After being revived by his foster father, Diarmuid learns of his treasonous acts and decides to leave Hibernia for sure. Still longing to be a knight, he learns of a certain king that is willing to accept any kind of Knight. Camelot is quite the jou...
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"If there is anything," Diarmuid began, "that I want more than anything in my entire life; it is to be a knight. That is why I have come." His voice was clear and audible for the entire table—of what looked like twenty or thirty men—to hear him speak. No one said a word until the blond man next to the king whispered something and the entire table was alive with whispers; roaring and breathing, like the soft flame of a hearth, speaking of doubts and hopes for the male.
"Yes, We understand that." The King sighed loudly. "But why Camelot and why not any other kingdom, maybe Cornwall, or what have you?"
Diarmuid licked his lower lip and realized that his heart was pumping at a higher rate than usual. In fact, it seemed to be thumping audibly. How everyone in the room did not hear it was a miracle in and of itself. "Well," he started once again, "I have always admired Camelot and its way of ruling. Your specific rule, my king." He had opened his mouth to speak once again, but he was interrupted.
"But, We are not your King, Diarmuid. We are practically your enemy. Thus I ask you a second time; why should We accept you? It makes little sense when you are the son of a god. You could be in any kingdom you want, you simply say the word, and Aengus will snap his fingers and your wish is granted." The King sighed, "Why have you chosen Camelot, when you know much too well, that even the strongest of spells do not work on me?" The King's emerald eyes bore into his own, beseeching, curious.
Diarmuid had kept silent until the King was done with his words. "Because Camelot is just. I have found that the Fianna have the same principles and wishes for the country as the Round Table, and thus I have a yearning desire to rejoin these principles and ethics," he said, eyes lighting with fervour, "To be a knight is my calling, but because of things that occurred to me without my consent, I am stripped of my wish and my vocation. My love for Knighthood exceeds any other love I have, but my loyalty will stay but with one that does not betray me in return. I would have followed Fionn and Cormac to the ends of the world, if they will it.
"But—" he broke off, breaking the smooth façade of a confident knight, and if only for the slightest of moments, the barest of seconds, allowed no more than a glimpse of the rather nervous and worried man he truly was. "But how can you love those that want your head on a pike? Never had I thought that jealousy and folly would taint my trust and reverence for my master. Never had it crossed my mind that my life was but a game to those I had pledged allegiance to. And after near-death, I was restored to my natural mentality and no longer remained under a petty spell. My trust in Fionn was tarnished; he had desired my death and destroyed my loyalty and dignity in Ireland for a woman. As much as I love my country, I can and will never return, and so I seek refuge in Camelot."
At this point, his amber eyes glittered, with the promise of a dedicated knight who would follow whom he chose to the ends of the world. "I wanted a new start, where I could embed my loyalty, where I could trust those around me; Camelot offered hope for me.
