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The Princess Mithian of Nemeth was not a sore loser, not in anything.
But there was something about King Arthur Pendragon that kept her sore in some places. The young king of Camelot was not at all that she expected. He was a good natured man, who cared for the welfare of all in his kingdom. He could be funny and
“The King of Camelot has found his bride.” Rodor told her over breakfast that morning. There was to be a planned visit to Camelot, to offer their congratulations to the new Queen.
Mithian sipped her juice, mustering a smile, “I do look forward to visiting Camelot again.”
The Blacksmith's Daughter.
There was a part of Mithian that truly wants to hate her. She had upended the order of things, taking a prince. There was no benefit to Camelot, to the other kingdoms. Princesses trained to be Queens their entire lives and she swoops in. At least, that was the view by many lords and ladies at the banquet. It messed up the order of things,
But Arthur, from what Mithian could see, was so utterly happy. He was so proud of his Queen.
Guinevere Pendragon was nervous, that was clear. Though she wore her lilac silk gown and golden crown most admirably
“She almost does not look like a servant.” One of the ladies whispered behind Mithian.
“She is a Queen.” Mithian said, and both the ladies stopped and looked at her.
When it was her and her father's turn to greet the King and his new Queen, Mithian studied Queen Guinevere with interest. She twisted a single silver band on her left forefinger, a ring she recognised from afar.
“Princess Mithian of Nemeth.” the knight introduced.
Guinevere smiled at her, “How lovely to meet you.”
“As it is you, your Highness.” Mithian replied as she curtsisd “Congratulations on your marriage.”
As Mithian moved to greet Arthur, she wondered how he would feel looking at her. Guilt? Relief? But he smiled, genuine, at her as he took her hands.
“Princess Mithian, welcome back to Camelot.”
“I am glad to be here under happier circumstances.” He did look a little charigned and she chuckled, “Your Queen is very lovely.”
“The loveliest.” Arthur agreed, looking over at Guinevere who had charmed Rodor, the older king smiling and laughing with her.
As the night progressed and the ball and banquet grew, Mithian saw Merlin, and smiled. He was a trusted servant to the king, a friend even. And when he returned a warm smile, she was glad.
“How good to see you again, Merlin.”
“As it is to see you, My Lady.” Merlin bowed.
“I hope so.” Mithian joked, and his ears tinged pink as he glanced down bashfully, “I can see why you did not wish for me to wed King Arthur.”
Merlin's lips twitched upwards, “I knew he still loved Gwen. I'm sorry, for how I was. I had no right and you are a good and kind lady.”
Mithian shook her head, “You were trying to protect us both. I suppose it would be a sad affair, to be wed to someone who years for another.”
“Apparently most marriages for royals are supposed to be unhappy.” Merlin shrugged, “Not that you should be unhappy!” he quickly added.
Mithian chuckled, “Oh, they can be. My parents are good rulers but they are not affectionate with one another. I do not believe they met until their wedding; my meeting with Arthur long before an engagement was unusual.”
“Really?” Merlin's eyebrows raised, “Wow.”
“What of your parents?”
Merlin looked sad for a moment, “My father is dead. But in the short time I knew him, I know that he...he loved my mother. And she loved him.”
Mithian offered a comforting smile, “I am sorry. But it is nice, to have been borne from love rather than strategy.”
“Everyone deserves happiness.” Merlin replied.
Mithian looked over at the head of the table again. Arthur's hand was resting on Guinevere's even as he was speaking to someone else, as though her very presence was grounding for him. When the nobleman returned to his seat, she watched as he looked at his queen, adoration in his eyes. They shared a small laugh, heads bent together and he kissed the back of her hand.
Would she have had that with Arthur? Perhaps, maybe one day. But not like this. There would be no inside jokes, holding hands and public displays of affection for the older nobles to disapprove of.
Perhaps that should hurt the most. Arthur was capable of that love and care but it was not for others, no. It was for the blacksmith's daughter who's heart he had and she had his. Instead, it was comfort to see. Camelot, for so long, had been a frightful kingdom under a angry king. But the reign of Arthur Pendragon would no doubt be a happier one, especially with his Queen Guinevere by his side.
The following day, there was a hunting occasion. Whilst Mithian enjoyed to hunt, she decided to stay in the tents, greeting others from various kingdoms.
Guinevere was sitting on an ornately decorated chair, wearing a dress of pale pink with long sleeves made of silk and accented with gold thread. A gold circlet sat upon her curls and she demureley sipped her wine as the ladies chatted around her.
“Your Highness, have you been hunting?” One of the Ladies - Lady Branwyn, Mithian recalled. Her husband was Master of the Treasury here in Camelot.
“I have never enjoyed hunting but I do enjoy riding.” Guinevere said politely.
“Of course, you have not had time to learn" Lady Branwyn said with a tight, condescending smile.
Mithian stepped forward, “Her Highness is likelyoccupied with other matters, Lady Branwyn.” Mithian said, “Hunting is for those of us ladies who do not yet rule. Queen Guinevere does.”
Some of the ladies smiled, their teeth bared in discomfort, “Yes.” Lady Branwyn agreed, “I suppose you are correct.”
“Your Highness, you sit on the Round Table, do you not?” Mithian said, taking a seat. The King must value your insights and thoughts. I think we should all be lucky to have a say in how a kingdom is run.”
“Indeed. Camelot is strong not only because of our knights but the people. That includes women from all walks of life.” Guinevere said, sharing a smile with Mithian.
Guinevere approached her, later on. Standing, restless, Mithian was surprised when the Queen approached her.
“Thank you. For earlier.” Guinevere said
“I did nothing.” Mithian said.
“Right. Queens are not supposed to thank others for saving them.” Guinevere said, as though memorising a lesson, no doubt given to her by one of the frightening looking older ladies of the court.
“Nor are princesses but I have thanked many a servant for getting me out of embarrassing situations. Usually involving a suitor.” Mithian offered.
“I completely understand.” She replied “Arthur has spoke so wonderfully about Nemeth. I look forward to visiting one day.”
“We should be most glad to have you, Your Highness. Camelot is a friend and ally. King Uther was close with my father.”
“I am only glad that the relationship between our kingdoms may continue. And that you do not think to ill of Arthur.” Guinevere said carefully. Her index finger tapped against her goblet, the ring Mithian had once only seen on a string glistening.
“Why should I? Because he tore up a sensible marriage agreement?” Mithian sipped her wine and realised how rude that sounded. Perhaps she meant it, a small part of her.
“Arthur told me that he did like you.” Guinevere said, “And I think you would make a good Queen. A better one than I.”
She was being honest, Mithian realised. There were no games, no hidden messages in her words. This Guinevere was honest in a way that the born nobility were not.
“I do not think that true.” Mithian said, “You should not think I wish ill on either of you. Anyone can look at the two of you and see how in love you both are.” Mithian looked down into her goblet, “What kind of Queen would I be if I were utterly unhappy? What sort of King would he be?”
Guinevere looked surprised at her words, making her feel rather guilty once more for her judgement.
“I was upset, at first. Not just at the rejection but the upheaval of order.” Mithian admitted, “ Arthur told me that you were a blacksmith’s daughter. He loves you more than this kingdom. I think many of those ladies are envious. I admit to being one of them.” she added with a self depricating chuckle, “But the people adore you. I can see it quite clearly. I think what makes one a good Queen is not a matter of birth but character. And you have more character than many of us noble ladies put together.*
“I hope I will be.”
“Well then, allow me to offer advice - stop hoping. You know your ability; do not be afraid to be confident.”
Guinevere beamed, “Thank you. And I know that you shall be a good Queen. I'm not just saying that to be kind. Arthur truly thinks the best of you, as do I.”
Mithian could not help but smile back, “You are annoyingly kind. It is likely why they also envy you. You are so genuine. I should like to write to you? Perhaps offer my advice on how to become a cold noblewoman,” she quipped.
Guinevere chucked, “I should like that as well. And please, my friends call me Gwen. Not Your Highness.” She insisted.
No, she would not be Queen but Mithian had a new friend, a genuine friend and that was more than satisfactory indeed.