(Untitled)

[most_generous]

The great hall in the silver-circled castle is full of lords and ladies, kings, artisans and Makers of every kind, Old Ones dressed in the clothes of a dozen centuries and a hundred cultures. Rows of tables stand under the beamed wooden roof. Arthur had thought of erecting a round table, but no such table could efficiently seat the hundreds of

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[merrimanlyon]

Merlion has been taking meals at odd hours of late, before the sun rises or in the middle of the warm afternoon, but nevertheless he does his best to appear at these evening feasts even if he does not partake of anything much. And so, perhaps out of long habit and perhaps out of new wariness, he has spent the greater part of his time letting his gaze travel around the hall.

He is mostly listening to a question that someone (much later on, he will never be entirely certain what the question was or who had asked it) has put to him...but the sudden faint tremor drives all thought of an answer from his mind.

He, too, goes quite still -- and his gaze snaps to where the king is sitting.

[mother_lost]

*Guinevere may not feel what Arthur and Merlion are sensing, but she notices Arthur's sudden stillness.*

My lord?

[gwion_bach]

These days the eyes that are not on the king are on Merlion -- the eyes of those who know about the problem they may soon face.

The problem. The danger.

Gwion has been following Merlion's lead for quite a long time. If he wants to remain safe, he knows, he has to continue. And while a cat may look at a king... Gwion's own king is not here, not right now, and the harper's eyes are on the lion.

And when the lion stills, and when Gwion sees where the lion's gaze goes --

Gwion quells the sudden fear, and puts down his cup, and watches them both, warily.

[most_generous]

In another world, a woman is calling a name, with the help of the Warstone upon her finger. The name itself has no power to summon this Arthur, but the ring has met Bran Davies and is attuned to his father. Arthur sets the knife down, grips the table as if it will help him resist the call.

Merlion! His mental voice cracks in command. Raise the Circle and send for Bran, now! More gently, aloud, Arthur says, "I am sorry, Guinevere. We guessed it was coming."