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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It was not the first time that he was ushered through palace hallways in such a quick manner; but it was in a much more respectful way. The last time that this had happened to him, he was exiled from the country—hopefully it was not the case again. Although his heart was thumping a bit too loudly, he tried not to think of what the worst case scenario was; his head on a pike for something he did not even know about.
The page presented him and then he was allowed into the King's private chambers. Upon stumbling inside, he noted the room to be very grand and luxurious; as was rather obvious for a King to own. He noted that there was two chambers; the main being for greeting subjects and the one to the far right for his actual sleeping chambers. A long dinner table—probably for twelve people—was placed in front of him, and there were only four chairs; three of which were being used. The king sat on the far right edge while a beautiful woman with black curly hair sat in the middle, and on the left edge was another young man.
"Welcome, Diarmuid," the King greeted as he stood and the two people did as well, out of manners, "I would like to congratulate you on your hunt," he gave a warm smile.
Alright, this is good, Diarmuid smiled and nodded, "Thank you, your majesty,"
"But," there was a change of tone in the monarch's voice and Diarmuid feared the following words, "there seems to be a slight problem," he turned to the other two people at the table.
The lady looked at him with pure rage in her pale green eyes, and then averted her gaze immediately, "You have been branded," she had tried to keep calm.
Diarmuid's eyes grew and he tilted his head.
"So you knew?" She hissed between clenched teeth, "Get him out of here! Out!"
"Morgana," the king growled her way and then turned to Diarmuid, "Forgive my sister; she is only watching out for Camelot. Merlin, if you would please,"
"Yes, your majesty," Merlin, the man at the far left bowed and then approached Diarmuid, "I am positive that it was not your intention to keep this mark from us, as I suspect you do not even know what it means."
"I do not," Diarmuid shook his head.
"Good," Merlin smiled, "could you please show us where it is?" He asked as he looked the Irishman over.
"Of course," Diarmuid nodded and then proceeded to turn around, "It is on my back, I would have to remove my tunic." He then warned after recalling that there was a lady in the room.
"Just take off the tunic, I want to claw that mark out if I need to," she growled in anger.
Diarmuid flinched and did as she asked. He heard the clacks of her heels as she approached him and he felt a chill run down his spine as goose bumps formed all over his body. He then felt a cold slender hand on his back, and the hairs on the back of his neck rose.
