Citadel Overlooking Camelot, Sunday Afternoon
Occasionally, Arthur had an hour or so to spare in between his duties. Sometimes, especially these days, he liked to come up here when he did so, peering out from the parapets and onto the streets below. Today was such a day; he'd climbed up here on his own, shirking his heavy jacket somewhere along the line.
He propped his foot up on the battlement, leaning one shoulder against a merlon. He'd had a lot on his mind, these days: Morgana's newly-revealed magic, the king's inability to relent in the face of innocent magic users (so far, he told himself, repeatedly. He wasn't about to give up on his father yet), the everpresent danger of Merlin being compromised somehow.
Lost in thought, he wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings, so much.
He propped his foot up on the battlement, leaning one shoulder against a merlon. He'd had a lot on his mind, these days: Morgana's newly-revealed magic, the king's inability to relent in the face of innocent magic users (so far, he told himself, repeatedly. He wasn't about to give up on his father yet), the everpresent danger of Merlin being compromised somehow.
Lost in thought, he wasn't really paying attention to his surroundings, so much.