C H A P T E R  XII

♛ ♛ ♛

A TRANSLUCENT VEIL veil of frost fastened over Camelot. Flickers of snow and hail fell around the kingdom like bursts of confetti, laying down a white blanket just thick enough to crinkle under one's boots. Merlin watched the bustling masses, clad in makeshift hats and scarves fashioned from whatever they could find, trampling the chalky snow and leaving greyed footprints on the plaza, like echoes.

Preparations for the Camelot Winter Ball had been underway for many enduring weeks. Each day, Merlin would pass half a dozen servants in the cloisters, armed with all manner of decorations and ceremonious trinkets, which were later strung up around the palace for all to see. The nearer the event grew, the more ornate the palace became.

By the time the evening of the ball actually arrived, Merlin couldn't help find himself dumbfounded amidst the splendor. There was a glorious feast garnishing the tables of the grand hall, complete with freshly-polished goblets (some of which Merlin had polished himself, remembering the chore with little fondness). He darted between swarms of elegant strangers, who huddled and laughed idly about topics Merlin couldn't dream of understanding.

Soon enough, Merlin caught sight of Semelé, who sauntered through the crowd with that trademark smile and tilt to her brow. Her figure was shrouded in a velvet gown, the scarlet colour not dissimilar from the cloaks of the knights of Camelot. Weaving through the maze of guests, Merlin attached himself to her side, for fear of drowning amongst all those strangers.

"Have you tried the stew?" Semelé asked, after a while of fond chatter with Merlin. They had found themselves towards the back of the hall, claiming an omniscient view of the dance. Her gaze seemed to surpass the crowds, landing comfortably upon Arthur (who stood at the front of the hall), and lingering there until Merlin's reply fractured her attention.

"Servants aren't allowed to eat the food." Merlin said, dejectedly.

"I used to steal food all the time when I was a serving girl."

"You used to be a serving girl?"

"A few years ago." She shrugged it off with an air of nonchalance. Semelé would often litter her speech with random anecdotes about her past — a topic so alien thus fascinating to Merlin. She seemed to have been everywhere, done everything. Yet, Semelé never ventured into great detail about it, never saying too much about her life before moving on briskly to the next topic of conversation, preserving the enigma. "I was sixteen. It was one of the first kingdoms I ever lived in."

Sure enough, this was the most Semelé said about her experience as a serving girl, before guiding the conversation back to the stew, the flavour of which she described in vivid detail and made Merlin's stomach whimper.

When gaps of silence arose in their conversation, Merlin noticed how Semelé's gaze would fall on Arthur. Her eyes hadn't wandered far from him all evening, tracing his movements across the hall, though she stood a distance away.

"You have feelings for Arthur, don't you?" Merlin concluded after a while of observing her.

Tearing her gaze from the Prince, Semelé turned to face Merlin and spoke with a gravity. She hadn't flinched or hesitated when he'd questioned her affections, nor stammered out any kind of denial of her feelings. Instead, she spoke plainly, unashamed of her sentiment.

"I do, Merlin. There's no point in denying it, not now. It'd be unnatural to hide or shun my feelings, don't you think?"

Merlin could muster no coherent or useful response, and instead asked:  "What are you going to do about it?"

This question proved taxing for Semelé. There was a moment's pause as she contemplate, before she gave a remarkably casual shrug.

"I don't know yet." Semelé confessed, her hands falling to her hips, her gaze narrowing in on Arthur once more, "But I'll figure something out. I always do."

♛ ♛ ♛

THE MUSIC SWELLED and Arthur had once again found himself in the company of the Princess Estella.

They must've completed four or five laps of the castle grounds by this hour. Arthur couldn't quite remember; all the details smudged into a watery blur, like an oil painting, when his mind was not focused.

He had not seen Semelé all night, and the thought of being reunited with her lay heavy on his conscience. Not to mention, this night had been painfully reminiscent of the night he'd been formally acquainted with her.

Traipsing the cloisters, Estella's mind was no less tormented than Arthur's. She'd turned over her mother's advice a dozen times over, knowing the scheme to liberate sorcery across Albion hinged on her union with Arthur.

And yet, here Arthur was, alarmingly aloof about the whole idea. He cut quite the fine figure in his crimson cloak, trailing ceremoniously at his heels as they walked. He was a handsome man, objectively, and Estella favoured his humour and easy-going disposition, though she didn't know how to outwardly show this. She couldn't help thinking how he would make a fine king, and an even finer husband.

But Arthur didn't seem remotely interested.

"Arthur," Her gentle voice broke his reverie, drawing him back to the present with some reluctance. They'd halted their tour of the palace in a far corridor, where the uproar of the main hall was a distant hum.

Suddenly feeling out of her depths, Estella's words hopelessly dissolved on her tongue, leaving a strange silence to hang and fester in the air. Her gaze flickering between his eyes and lips, she edged forward.

Arthur knew what was about to happen, it was imminent. He would've never instigated this, and his instinct was to refuse it. To back away and confess his disinterest. But his father's words scraped his conscience. The very thought of Uther's scornful glare burrowed right through his insides; reminding him relentlessly of his duties to Camelot, to his people, and to his father.

Throwing caution to the wind, Arthur leaned forward an inch or two and their lips met.

It was a perfectly pleasant kiss, if a little awkward at first as their mouths brushed together a tad inconsistently. There was nothing gross or gruesome about the event, for either party.

A fragment of himself had wanted this kiss to spur an undying affection for Estella, but Arthur found no such passion. He cursed his stubborn heart for ignoring the perfectly decent maiden in front of him, the maiden which his father would approve of, and instead fixating on a woman he knew he could never have a life with.

He broke the kiss a little abruptly, excusing himself and disappearing from view.

Her heart sinking to her gut, Estella was left frozen, paralysed with desolation as she watched Arthur's figure shrink into the distance. The roaring fire the kiss had ignited in Estella was clearly unrequited, and the evidence of that was heart wrenching.

♛ ♛ ♛

AS WITH MANY Winter nights, the twilight faded to black in the blink of an eye, and the guests began their march back to their horses and carriages, arming themselves for a brisk return to their respective kingdoms. The air was crisp, nipping at the necks of those who departed from the warmth of the palace.

Having much of that evening to contemplate, Arthur once again found himself in the most secluded twist of the cloisters. There was a glass panel forged between the ancient stone walls, granting him a view of snow-swept Camelot. The glimmer of moonlight danced around the veil of white, glistening like freshly-polished chainmail.

"Arthur," a chill breeze cut through him as his name was called from behind him. Turning around, his heart was softened in seeing it was Semelé. He'd recognised the familiar ring of her voice, it's chime was ever-present in his conscience. Her casual remarks had a disarming effect on Arthur, no matter how hard he tried to resist. "I haven't seen you all evening."

"I've been thinking." was all the reply he could muster, as if three words could possibly encapsulate the endless thoughts that'd turned his mind that evening.

"Thinking?" She looked at him archly, "What a revelation!"

Arthur was unable to resist the chuckle this extracted from him. Joining his side, Semelé's gaze met Arthur's. Somehow, there was no longer a need for words.

Confidence radiated in her eyes, a confidence that Arthur admired with every fraction of his tormented soul. The sheer confidence to be aware of her desires, and unafraid to simply ask for them, was a breed of courage Arthur envied. Semelé was telling him things he couldn't even bring himself to admit, and all in the sincerity of her warm eyes.

Half of Arthur coaxed him to return his gaze to the window, to Camelot, but the other half ordered him to face his desires, the burning sentiment his mind mocked him for; the sentiment he knew would wreathe his soul for all eternity.

Semelé's deft hand rose to cup his cheek, and Arthur found himself paralysed, lost beyond help in her gaze. Like a drowning man battling aimlessly against the power of the tide, Arthur could no longer fight his feelings. Semelé looked at him, drawing nearer and nearer, closer and closer.

Reason begged her not to pursue him, for their love would surely be doomed. But she loved him against reason.

Their lips finally met, and Semelé was breathless.

Breathless, exhausted from the intensity, the raw passion, the feeling of her desires spilling into reality. And yet, she was filled with renewed vigour, her heart soaring. It was everything all at once, and Semelé was delighted to feel so out of her depths.

Their lips brushed one another's, delicately at first, soft and cautious, so as not to shatter the moment. But this quickly descended into something much deeper, as everything converged in that moment. No amount of preparation could've prepared either one of them for this.

As a man, Arthur had been nurtured to stand his ground, resist his weaknesses and show no outward signs of vulnerability. But, inwardly, he was trembling, practically falling to his knees. This kiss was worth infinitely more than his kiss with Estella, or any kiss he'd ever had the pleasure of experiencing.

This was everything he wanted.

But he pulled away. Away from Semelé, from his desires, from everything he wanted.

"I shouldn't have done that." he said, regretfully.

Reality hit Semelé like a stampede of stallions. She was torn from the blissful fantasy of their kiss far too soon for her liking, and her face washed over with puzzlement.

"Why not? You wanted that kiss just as much as I did." Semelé stated with unwavering confidence.

"What I want doesn't matter, Semelé." Arthur returned her gaze with one of serious gravity, deflecting his emotions with all the strength he could muster. His heart sank to his stomach, and he lowered his tone, pitifully. "If I give in to this, what happens then? My father would never allow it, we both know that."

"Then we'll make sure Uther doesn't find out." She spoke with a fighting spirit, "We'll just meet in secret, like a tryst."

"And what if my father discovers us?"

"Then I'll take responsibility."

"And what if he has you banished? Or executed?"

"I don't know!" Semelé retorted, shrugging aimlessly, finally falling short for a response to Arthur's relentless quizzing "I haven't thought that far ahead. I'll figure that out when I get to it."

Dejected, Arthur's gaze dropped to the floor. He gave a forlorn sigh and a sombre tone washed over his voice, mourning their forbidden desires.

"My father expects me to know what I'm doing every day for the rest of my life. I can't just make it up as I go along, like you do. I have to consider the future, for Camelot's sake."

At that moment, a realisation dawned on Semelé that she'd never considered before that moment: Arthur would choose his responsibilities over his own happiness, and he'd do so a thousand times over. He'd watch his friends sail off to weave their own adventures, fulfill their wishes and follow their hearts while he remained shackled to his duty in Camelot. Arthur endured a life of sacrifice, the likes of which Semelé could barely fathom.

"I could never live like that." She envisioned her life stripped of her exploits and gallivanting, grounded in one kingdom. Semelé had only ever lived for herself, doing exactly as she pleased, exactly where she pleased, exactly how she pleased. But Arthur's life belonged to Camelot.

"No." Arthur swallowed thickly, "I don't think you could either."

Semelé looked up at him helplessly, knowing he was right but unable to deny the swell of her heart and it's tormented pleas and cries.

"But I love you, Arthur Pendragon."

"Don't say that. It's painful."

"I don't care. I want you to know, even if it hurts me."

"No, it's hurting me." Arthur returned a little cuttingly. Beneath the stoic front he was preserving, his emotions were not far from the surface, boiling and bubbling over in that moment. But, reigning himself back to composure, he adopted a weaker tone. "Hearing you say that, and knowing nothing can ever happen between us, hurts me."

There was nothing that could be done or said. Defeated, Semelé tore her gaze from Arthur's as he left her alone in the cloisters, and just alone.

♛ ♛ ♛

AUTHOR'S NOTE

really sorry for the hiatus! i knew this one would be difficult to write so i just kept putting it off 😖 this was a really important one for the iNtErNaL cOnfLiCt i love writing so much, so i wanted to do it justice in this chapter!

even more sorry for breaking everyone's heart, including the characters'!! this one was really heartwrenching and the next chapter won't be any different 😔 poor arthur and semelé just can't catch a break!