The year: 2023

Albion

[Marty's POV]

I had a new normal now. Dragon's Den was all mine, thanks to my connections with the reigning king of Albion. The window in my bedroom was also fixed now, courtesy of the royal carpenters. 

Since saving Albion, I spent time shuttling between my café and The Pendragon castle, where I was an honorary dessert chef. However, that was not all. Like I had done while learning magic under my masters, I had spent the last few months understanding politics from Master Merlin in Lastshire, which I visited every night after closing the café. 

Master Merlin had explained how with Dwight on the throne, he needed me to watch over the kingdom and guide the king when he was in a dilemma about choosing a course of action. "Marty, thought your mistress would have you believe otherwise I was as good as any of the council members at Arthur's court. Magic alone can not help run a kingdom. You need to understand the people and their hearts."

Mistress Morgana had grudgingly agreed with her now-boyfriend saying, "It is true. You were always by Arthur's side. He would have been lost without you." Giggling, she had added, "In fact, I remember that one time you forgot that he was on a bride-hunting mission on Uther's orders and barged in on him during his romantic getaway, citing that there was an 'urgent matter that needed his attention'."

The statement made my master turn beet-red; he shushed my mistress and gestured to her to leave us alone so that he could teach me politics in peace. 

Boarding my taxi, I fished out the phone from my pocket to check the news. As expected, the citizens were still interested in knowing all about the new king of Albion: Dwight Pendragon. 

Just for fun, I opened the top-most article:

'Albion's Sweetheart: Dwight Pendragon'

It has been three months since King Gregory's evil deeds came to light. It's hard to believe that a brother can do that to his sister- cousin or otherwise- to snatch the kingdom from her husband. 

Though a DNA test has confirmed that the young king, Dwight, is indeed the biological child of King Harold Pendragon and Queen Elvira, the details of how he escaped from the now-deposed King Gregory's clutches are still a mystery. 

Speculations are adrift that only someone loyal to the Pendragons could have risked their lives to save the newborn. 

Meanwhile, Albion has fallen head over heels for the charming king who, since ascending the throne, has done everything in his power to elevate his people's lives. The North is back on its feet, and trusted sources from within the castle have told The Albion Times that the South will follow in its footsteps in the coming months. 

Mrs. Flidgrr from Oadley said, "With everything the young man is doing for us, I hope he is taking care of himself. I met him a few times when he used to frequent Dragon's Den before…" 

Sighing, I closed the article and contemplated over the many mysteries surrounding Gregory's ascension to the throne. It felt like we had just scratched the tip of the iceberg when Jared, our first whistle-blower, had come clean about Gregory's involvement in Dwight's parents' deaths. 

Once Master Merlin had freed him from his ancestral curse, he had turned a new leaf. The boy, who had watched me end the curse, had pledged his loyalty to me; after gaining his voice, he had opened up about how the previous king and queen, Dwight's parents, had been assassinated by Gregory with Lancelot's help so that he could take the throne.

On questioning him about the details, he shook his head, "His Majesty didn't give my father any details. He just said he would not have been king had the creature under the castle not helped him poison them."

When I asked why he had stayed by the king's side for so long, the teen replied, "The king was not a good man, but the creature under the castle was worse. It was greedy, selfish, and insatiable in its desire to rule Albion."

I couldn't wrap my mind around how anyone could be loyal to someone while being treated like an animal or worse. Upon visiting Jared, who had lost consciousness when Akurra had vanished, at the hospital the night Dwight's true identity was revealed, I saw doctors treating his wounds, of which there were many. My gut told me he had probably received them at Gregory's hands while under Lancelot's control. 

When I had asked him to elaborate, the boy had said with tears streaming down his face, "The king had struck a deal, you see; in exchange for the throne, he agreed to let the creature use his body sometimes. For a few years, it stuck with it, but in the past couple of years, it had started taking over the king's body often. It was like the snake was trying to look for something or someone. Whenever the king returned home without success, he took the anger out on me. That's how I knew it was not my king. My king loved me. Treasured me." 

Watching him talk about his king, Gregory, reminded me of 'Gollum' from The Lord of the Rings.

Before parting with him, I had asked him if he knew what the snake was looking for, to which he had no answer. 

Could it be the 'old man' that Lancelot had mentioned? 

"Chef!" Someone called, pulling me out of my thoughts. I hadn't even realized that I had arrived at my destination. Smiling at the officer, I paid the cabby and hopped out of the taxi. "Meena, looking sharp." I greeted the head of security before going in for a quick hug. 

Slapping me on my back, she shook her head and mouthed, 'Thanks, sweetie,' before leading me into the castle. 

"Any idea why His Majesty wants to see me?" I asked, hoping she would know why Dwight had summoned me so urgently without giving me any details.

Meena shrugged, "No, and I didn't think it wise to push him," she stopped dead in her tracks, "Marty, he didn't look too good, you know?"

My heart plummeted to my knees. I turned to face Meena, "What do you mean?" 

After my masters had left Albion and settled in Lastshire for good, I had revealed to Meena what had transpired but left out the part about her being the reincarnation of Guinevere, the supposed love of Arthur's life. 

I figured if Dwight and Meena were meant to be, they would find love in each other sooner or later. After all, they saw each other every day. So far, however, they seemed content with being friends, and I rather liked that arrangement. 

"You know how nothing usually gets him down?" 

I nodded, "Ya."

"Ya, he looks pretty darn down. The kitchen staff informed me that he even refused breakfast today," Meena pursed her lips and threw her hands in the air. "I don't understand why he is being so secretive. I am worried, Marty," her brows drew closer, "I am useless if it's something," she paused and looked around before continuing in a whisper, "magic related."

Damn it! I hadn't thought about that. After going over every word Lancelot had said while possessing Gregory and Akurra, I had sadly concluded that though we had gotten rid of Lancelot, we were still far from finding out who had broken the seal Balinor had placed on Lancelot at birth and tempted the knight to choose greed over friendship and loyalty. Then there was also the matter of how Dwight had survived after his mother, the then-queen Elvira, had succumbed to blood loss after delivering him? 

I quickened my pace. Meena fell in step with me with ease, "By the way, there is something I need to tell you." she smiled like a Cheshire cat.

I quirked my brow, "Spill."

Meenakshi shook her head, "Not here. Not now." her almond eyes twinkled. "Later, I promise."

What could it be? I wondered, but before I could press her for more information, we arrived outside Dwight's office; it was aesthetically placed with windows overlooking the king's private garden. Dwight was lucky; it was the kind of view not many could afford in Albion.

"I will take your leave here, Mr. Wyllt," Meenakshi offered me a curt nod, then glancing at the man standing guard outside the door, she winked at him, mouthing a 'bye.'

The guard, dressed in red and black with an uncomfortable-looking tall hat perfectly balanced on his head, blushed.

Wait… what? 

"Mr. Wyllt," he called, "Please," he bowed, opening the door for me, gesturing to me to enter. "His Majesty is expecting you."

Smiling awkwardly and wondering if I had imagined the silent interaction between Meena and him, I stepped inside the office. A moment later, the guard closed the door behind me. 

Dwight, who had his face buried in some file as I entered, looked up. 

Smiling weakly, he signaled me to take my usual seat. 

Meena was right. Something was eating Dwight. "My lord," I bowed deeply and did as asked. 

"How many times have I told you not to do that, especially when we are alone?" Dwight said, sounding more tired than he looked. 

I dismissed the complaint with a wave of my hand. Reaching over, I placed my palm on Dwight's forehead, "You are not taking care of yourself." 

Dwight closed his eyes and smirked, "I am feeling much better now that you are here, my friend."

I couldn't stop myself from grinning but said nonetheless. "I know they are just words you say to keep me around. My lord, you don't have to flatter me; I am already yours."

Dwight's smile brightened; he cocked his head, "Really?"

And that's when I realized how flirty I had sounded just now. Fuck! Gulping thickly, I shrugged, trying to make light of the situation, "Of course, I have pledged my loyalty to you, haven't I?"

"Oh," The smile dropped from his lips. "Of course," his eyes lowered to the file he was holding. "Marty, there is something I have kept from you."

Why did he sound so hesitant… so guilty? 

"My lord,"

"Marty, I have found your father." He admitted, and without looking up from the file, he continued, "You are aware that I am not close to my mother, the woman who raised me," he clarified and went on, "so I didn't see it fit to entertain her monetary requests after I was crowned. But two months ago, she came to me and told me she had some important information regarding my birth. You know how desperately I have been seeking answers to that question, so I paid her what she wanted in return for the information," color drained from his face.

"My lord," I tried to interpret again, but he held up his hand, "Just let me finish." pulling in a deep breath, he began again, "She told me that someone had come asking for me, and after she had told him that she had kicked me out years ago, he had asked where he could find me. When she told him I was the king, he left smiling. A few days later, she recalled that he was the same guy who had entrusted me in her care all those years ago."

"Dwight, what are you getting at?" I left my place and went down on my knees next to his chair. His hands were shaking. I held them in mine, "Calm down." reading his mind, I asked, "Was the man my father?"

He bobbed his head but refused to look at me, "I didn't know it was your father... We located him a few weeks later at a mental asylum. He didn't seem to be in his senses. I needed to know who he was and why he had saved me, so I moved him here."

I didn't know how to react. My father was in the Pendragon castle right now. This was good news, so why did Dwight look so shaken?

"With the care he received here, for a while, it looked like he was on the mend. At least physically. I visited him often, I should have told you then, but it didn't seem connected to you. You already had a lot to deal with-" Dwight finally looked up; his deep, beautiful blues shone with tears, "Late last night, his condition worsened unexpectedly. I was called. The meeting didn't go as I thought it would."

"What happened?"

"He smiled when he saw me and told me how saving me was the only thing he did right in his life. When I asked why he had risked himself to save me, he told me that he was a Wyllt, and it was in his job description to protect me."

I found myself at a loss for words. My heart clenched in my chest. 

"Marty," Dwight squeezed my hand, "I told him about you, and he asked if he could meet you. Doctors have informed me that Mr. Wyllt doesn't have much time," he said, wiping the tears from my cheeks. "Would you like to meet him?"

I hadn't realized that I was crying. I nodded, and in silence, Dwight escorted me to his private quarters, which he had turned into a hospital ward. "See you soon, my friend," he said, leaving me alone with my father. 

I buried my father a few hours later. With Dwight to my right and Meena to my left, I bid my last farewell to my dad. Any anger that I had ever felt towards him, I lay to rest with him. After all, had it not been for him, Dwight would not be standing next to me. 

On Dwight's insistence, I spent the night in the castle my father had called home during the last days of his miserable life. 

Come morning, Dwight told me everything my father had revealed to him about his miraculous escape from the castle. "When you were three, your father had heard the serpent's calls and, like a true Wyllt, ended up in Akurra's lair. Unfortunately, Prince Gregory had followed him and found the location as well. Your father was the royal physician's aid at the time. When my father died of poisoning, he got suspicious and kept tabs on him. Soon he found out that Gregory had cut a deal with Akurra."

I could guess what had happened next. As a Wyllt, the magic trapped in my father would have urged him to protect the heir to the throne: the unborn child in Queen Elvira's womb, Dwight. 

"For some reason, none of the poisons brewed by the head physician, who was being controlled by Akurra, worked on my mother during her pregnancy, but once I was born, it seemed that she had lost her armor and died minutes after giving birth to me."

I knew why The Queen had died. After Dwight was born, the protection spell I placed on her chamber had run dry, and the poison she had drunk during her pregnancy had taken effect, killing her.

As my friend spoke about the mother he never saw, I couldn't help but feel sorry for him. Dwight didn't deserve it. He should have grown up as a prince, A Pendragon.

"I am sorry, My lord." I said, pulling him in for a hug; he didn't resist. A moment later, his arms wrapped around me as well, "I am sorry I couldn't save your father, Marty. If I had known he was your father, I would have told you sooner. Will you ever be able to forgive me?" he asked, sounding utterly miserable. 

There was still much he needed to tell me about what exactly had transpired on that terrible night he had lost his Mum, but I was done seeing him look and sound so... unlike him. 

Pulling out of the circle of his arms reluctantly, I rubbed my chin as if I was in deep thought, "My lord, maybe I should believe my master when he tells me that Arthur was brave but stupid."

"Did he really say that?" Dwight gasped.

When I nodded, his mouth fell open. But he was quick to school his features. Puffing his chest, he said, "Ha! You know I could have you hanged for implying that your king is stupid."

"I didn't imply it at all." I said with a straight face before adding, "I stated it!" 

Dwight's jaws touched the floor.

Biting back a laugh and scrunching my nose, I shook my head, "By the way, My lord, I regret to inform you that this is not the 900s, and you can not execute a man for stating facts."

"You fucker!" Dwight cursed between peals of laughter. 

Now that was the man I knew and loved! 

Wait… what?

I watched my king fall back into the bed we had spent the night in. It wasn't something we hadn't done before. When Dwight used to visit my place to fix the window, there were times we had bunked together. 

We were both men. It didn't matter. 

I was not sure about the 'didn't matter' part now. Akurra's question, 'Tell me, Merlin, which of the Pendragon siblings did you love more?' echoed in my mind, leaving me feeling somewhat parched. 

A pillow made contact with my face. It made me look at the man I called my friend, my king. He was still laughing, totally unaware of the identity crisis I was having; he was clueless about the effect of seeing him rolling on the bed in nothing but his blood-red pajamas was having on me. 

Fuckati fuck! 

Realization dawned on me as bright as Dwight's blond hair when it caught the sun on his morning jogs: I was in love with my best friend and had no clue what to make of it. 

I needed help; I needed guidance. But most importantly, I needed to get out before my feelings showed on my all-too-expressive face. 

"Dwight," I pulled at the hem of his shirt, "I just remembered that I need to get back to the café."

He stopped his antics and sat up. Concern lingered in his eyes, "Are you sure you have to leave?"

I nodded; getting off the bed, I lied, "There is a delivery I got to receive."

"Oh." Looking nothing like he did seconds ago, he got off as well. His cerulean eyes searched mine, "Would you be alright all by yourself?"

"I am a grown man, My lord."

Dwight's soft smile warmed my heart, "Maybe it is as you implied, my friend. I am stupid." 

I took in his features, soft yet strong, beautiful yet rugged. "Maybe, My lord. I am sure I can brew something to fix that problem, but I would rather not; stupidity suits you."

My statement earned me a slap on the back of my head. 

"Brat!" I muttered under my breath, but he heard it, "Maybe I should pass a new law," he said, running his thumb over his jaw, "forbidding citizens from calling their king names."

I shook my head and turned heel. 

"What do you say, Marty?" I heard him call my name, but I didn't turn. 

"My lord, do as you please. I will see you when I see you. Have a great day!"

"Now that I don't have to keep you company, maybe I will!" he yelled, controlling his laughter and failing. 

"Keep lying to yourself, my lord. I know you love spending time with me." I yelled back, and before he could make a comeback, I exited the room, closing the door behind me. Soon after, my legs turned to jelly, and I fell bottom-first on the floor. 

The guard from earlier gushed towards me, "Mr. Wyllt, are you alright?" he asked, helping me up. 

I couldn't afford to fall apart now. This was Dwight's turf. Everyone knew that the king and I were close. Anything I said or did would reach his ears. 

"I am fine. Just tired." I lied again. 

The young man nodded as if he understood my predicament. Then, "It's to be expected, Sir."

What the fuck did he mean by that!? 

"You lost your father, after all." 

Oh! Right. I buried my father yesterday. How could I have fallen in love today!? 

A voice from deep within me replied, 'You have been in love with him for a long time, lad; your stupid brain was just late to clue you in.'

That made sense; it was the only logical explanation. 

The guard, meanwhile, let go of me and asked, "Do you want me to call you a cab?"

"Yes, please," I replied, glad I had insisted I change before having breakfast with Dwight.

A few minutes later, the cab pulled up in front of me. I had my day's work cut out for me. I needed to get home. Seek an audience with the high priestess and ask her for a herb that could cure my ailment: love. 

Unfortunately, just as I was about to step inside the vehicle, the stone of Erer around my neck heated up. My eyes burned; no sooner did I close them than Dwight's face flashed across my mind's eyes. 

Dwight was in danger. 

Turning around, I rushed back inside. Finding a cure for my ailing heart would have to wait. For I was not just a man. I was Wyllt. I was my masters' apprentice. 

And the fate of Albion and its Sweetheart rested on my shoulders. 

THE END