C H A P T E R VIII

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CASCADES OF OBSIDIAN waves tumbled down Morgana's shoulders, as she removed the pins from her dark mane. The process was therapeutic, her trembling fingers foraging for the little clips and combing her them back down the glossy strands, soothing her frayed nerves.

Gwen would've been more than happy to do this for her, but she knew how calming the process was, after a restless night's sleep. Guinevere was cautious to allow Morgana space, occupying herself with quiet tasks such as discanting the clean laundry back into the appropriate wardrobes, making a conscious effort to keep a respectful distance from Morgana, as she talked to Semelé across the room.

The nightmares must've been pretty intense last night, Gwen deduced, as Morgana's voice was still a tad brittle as she spoke.

"It felt so real, Semelé. I could barely sleep."

Semelé nodded, examining the current sleeping drought Gauis prescribed to Morgana, holding the little vile up in the sunlight, illuminating the liquid as she checked it's consistency.

"I know the feeling," She looked back to Morgana, "I used to have noisy neighbours that kept me up all night, banging drums and dancing. I ended up joining in with them. It was actually quite good fun."

This delightfully random anecdote earned a small but sincere laugh from Morgana, her face brightening and radiating her beauty tenfold. "You speak such wonderful nonsense." She let the smile linger on her features.

Glad to see the colour returning to Morgana's cheeks, a small smile graced Semelé's face too. She then retrieved a second vile of sleeping drought, a stronger formula, advising Morgana to try this version instead.

A hollow knock echoed from the door, before it creaked open, revealing Arthur, who stepped inside with an casual air of nonchalance. He hadn't seemed shocked to see Semelé sitting with Morgana at her dresser. Infact, upon entering the chambers, his gaze immediately found Semelé's, like magnets colliding. It took a few more moments before he acknowledged Morgana and Gwen.

"What on earth are you doing here?" exclaimed Morgana. Her face had twisted into repulsion upon Arthur's entrance, and her tone was something between disbelief and disgust.

"What, am I not allowed to check up on you?"

"You've never 'checked up on me' before. Not ever. Not once."

" 'Course I have. I do it all the time." Arthur cleared his throat abruptly, before averting his gaze back to Semelé and addressing the real reason he was there.

A sly diversion of conversation was orchestrated by Arthur, moving to declare that he would be leading a training session with his knights later that day. Morgana rolled her eyes theatrically, recognising the boasting tone of his voice. He glared daggers at her, before returning his attention to Semelé, asking her assurance that she would be there to watch.

Semelé promised she would indeed be there, before packing up a few scattered medical items and the old vile of sleeping draught, and returning to Gauis' quarters. She felt Arthur's gaze heavy on her back as she left, but wasn't exactly complaining. Morgana rolled her eyes once more at him.

"You are so obvious, Arthur."

He whipped back around to face Morgana, brows furrowed and lips twisted in perplexion. Arthur then enquired innocently as to what she meant, though he suspected he already knew what she was referring to.

"You are such an idiot when you're in love."

"I'm not an 'idiot', Morgana."

"Well, you could've fooled me."

Then it was Arthur's turn to roll his eyes. He cautioned Morgana against spreading any sort of jargon about him being 'in love' throughout the castle, waving a stern finger before her (which she scoffed mockingly at, but assured him she wouldn't tell a soul). Gwen made the same promise, curtseying daintily across the room.

Seemingly satisfied with this, Arthur gave a contented little hum, before leaving just as abruptly as he had entered.

"That boy is hopeless." Morgana gave an idle chuckle, wandering over to the window and allowing the sunlight to pour onto her porcelain skin.

She seemed to be in much better spirits now. Gwen wasn't sure if it was Semelé's light-hearted company or the opportunity to mock Arthur that had cheered Morgana up so much.

"Do you really think Arthur has feelings for Semelé, my Lady?" asked Gwen, gingerly stepping forward.

"I don't just 'think' it, Gwen. I know it."

This sparked Guinivere's curiosity. She'd never considered that Arthur might be attracted to Semelé (frankly, it wasn't really Gwen's place to comment) but the evidence was conclusive. Gwen couldn't help thinking that Semelé would be a good match for Arthur, despite the barriers separating them. In hindsight, Gwen recalled the disarming effect Semelé often had on Arthur, how sincere and spirited he became around her. It was sweet to think of Arthur succumbing to the genuine affection in his heart, rather than the pretence of invincibility.

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"WHAT WOULD YOU do if someone in the castle liked you?" Gwen asked a little randomly, quickly adding: "In a romantic way, I mean."

Semelé tilted her head at Guinevere, both amused and perplexed at this sudden inquiry.

They had been watching the glorified training session, as promised, from a safe distance and neither of them had said a word to one another for a few moments. Gwen hadn't wanted to distract Semelé, as she traced her gaze back to Arthur, who was leading the brigade of knights with a disciplined, rigid tone. Arthur bested every single one of his knights in the one-to-one combat, flaunting his achievements in his vaunting stride. Semelé seemed to find this amusing, but her little laughs were wreathed with an affectionate undercurrent, not a belittling one.

Considering Gwen's query, Semelé turned the prospect over in her mind for a few moments before giving a wry reply. "Well, I certainly wouldn't blame them." She smirked.

"Very funny. But, really. Would you be mad?"

"Mad? Of course not. Why do you ask?"

Gwen hesitated, her words collapsing in her throat. She didn't want to expose Arthur's sentiment — she'd specifically promised not to do such a thing. Not to mention, she feared that revealing Arthur as Semelé's secret admirer may hurt his chances. Watching Gwen struggle to form a coherent response, Semelé cocked a brow, a mischievous smile tugging her lips wider.

"Is there something you want to tell me, Guinivere?" She asked, archly.

"N-No!" Gwen stammered, "I didn't mean me. Obviously I don't like you."

" 'Obviously'?"

"I-I didn't mean that as an insult! I mean, there's no reason why anyone wouldn't like you, it's just—"

Gwen stopped herself, halting her gibbering and garnering her thoughts. She paused, inhaled a slow, steady gulp of oxygen and strung her sentence together, lingering a little while longer on each word and slowing her pace.

"I'm just saying," Gwen went on in this tranquil rhythm, "Somebody in the castle may or may not like you. That's all."

Semelé's brows knitted together. "Who?"

"I can't say."

"Oh Gwen, that's unfair. You are such a tease."

The training session continued for another half hour, and the knights were drowning in their own sweat by the time Arthur had finished with them. Arthur himself seemed the least physically exhausted, perhaps because of his superior skill and technique, or perhaps he was just better at pulling off that flushed, dewy look. His chainmail glistened in the sunlight, like the golden glow of his skin. Once the knights had disbanded, Arthur wandered over to Gwen and Semelé.

"What did you think then?" He asked Semelé, squinting in the sunlight and partially concealing the twinkle of blue in his eyes.

"Hm. I've seen better."

"Oh, shut up. You know it was good."

This back-and-forth teasing between the two went on for a few more turns. Observing this casual form of flirtation, Gwen opted to return to her duties in the castle and leave those two to their own devices, trusting they would bode well in each other's company.

Arthur walked Semelé down the meadows, just the two of them. The lush fields of green were scattered with dandelions and buttercups — the last sprinkling of flowers to survive in September's wake. They chose to settle atop a grassy mound, which boasted a view overlooking the kingdom of Camelot in all it's splendour. Arthur's heart swelled at the sight.

"It's... beautiful." He admitted.

Semelé watched his expression, the way his pupils swelled in adoration and his lips parted, awestruck by the kingdom he would inevitably come to inherit.

Unlike Semelé, Arthur possessed no desire to scarper off to another kingdom, shedding his loyalties. Perhaps, in the throes of some distant fantasy, Arthur would enjoy living a normal life, unchained from his duties. But he understood his responsibility, and the dream of an ordinary existence was a necessary sacrifice for the good of his kingdom. Though she knew she'd never understand that way of living, Semelé admired Arthur infinitely for it.

"It'll be yours someday, Arthur. And you won't disappoint Camelot."

"How can you be certain?"

He turned to Semelé, the sun casting a shimmer of bronze atop his fair skin. His expression was soft and sincere, but a troubled look clouded and dulled his irises. Semelé knew how the uncertainty of his future in Camelot tormented him; whether he would be a worthy king of an abhorrent failure; whether he would do his people justice or force them against Camelot for all eternity. It saddened her to think Uther had installed such fears in him.

"I have faith in you." Semelé looked at him, "We can't always be 'certain', but sometimes we must take risks in order to achieve great things."

"Sounds a little precarious to me."

"That's how I've always lived and I've always been alright."

Arthur hummed in casual agreement, leaning back on his elbows. Propping herself up on her side, Semelé observed him, leisurely. She allowed her gaze to trace the planes of his porcelain cheekbones, which tapered into the sharp ridge of his jaw, along to the delicate curve of his plump lips. Semelé was shamelessly captivated by his prepossessing beauty, and was certain his magnificent bone-structure would make for fine subject material in any royal portrait.

Arthur's gaze then flitted over to meet her's, and Semelé was suddenly reminded of something she found even more enthralling than his appearance.

Though Arthur could shield his sensitive side with boasting and mockery, the serene pools of his irises were a fast-track to his heart. Everything true and genuine, everything good and pure, everything about Arthur that Semelé was so enamoured of seemed to converge in his gentle gaze.

He blinked, and Semelé managed to tear her eyes from his. Tilting her chin upwards, she found the vivid ocean of the sky, reminiscent of Arthur's impossibly blue irises, basking in the last few hours of sunlight Camelot had to offer.

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AUTHOR'S NOTE

i actually LOVED writing this chapter for some reason so i hope you loved reading it just as much!

oh my goodness arthur and semelé are falling so hard for eachother, this could be dangerous.

it was so nice to focus on gwen and morgana for a little while at the beginning. i love gwen's friendship with semelé, it's subtle but sweet :'))

also,, arthur and semelé's walk in the meadows is the most romantic thing in the world and i'm eternally jealous that i wasn't there 😢😢