BONUS !

You can now watch the trailer for this story on youtube looking up "the prince & the idiot Merlin fanfic trailer".

It is far from being perfect, of course, but at least you should be able to ride on the same "feelings" the fic carries through its three main themes : the music box rythm of the begining, far away memories ; then the young years with challenges, laughters, tears ; and finally the epic moments of the building of Albion. Somewhere in the middle, at the turning point, Gwaine who belongs to both times, the breaking point...

I hope you'll enjoy it : I made it thinking of all the comments so full of love you gave to this story while I was writing it. It really belongs to the reviewers and it is my humble gift of thanks to you lovely people, for your tremendous support...

And then...

So many ideas are crawling in my poor head as I try to hide from the heat and sun like a good otaku vampire that I am, and here is one that actually make sense...

A mini sequel of "the Prince & the Idiot" (four chapters at most!) based on a happy mixing of episodes 3x03, 3x07, 4x04, 4x08, 5x02, but mostly inspired on 3x07 (Castle of Fyrien) et 5x02 (Arthur's Bane), starring our cuties from the end of the fanfic, who have grown up a little.

Emrys who doesn't remember much of his father, Albion aware of the role she will have to play in History yet being a teen, Mordred who has found his peace but still needs to understand where he belongs in the future Court.

Two years after Arthur's death, as they travel back from Gawant, his children and nephew get separated brutally from the rest of the group. They will have to face the woods, bandits and terrible choices... will they make the Once and Future King proud of them ?

Here is the begining, just to see what you think of the idea and if you'd like to know what happens next... ^^

THE BOAR'S PLEDGE

The sun flickers through the thick foliage, its light speckling the road tamped by hooves and wheels. Somewhere in the woods, a stream sings merrily, giving the hot summer day an illusion of coolness.

The travelers are moving in a disciplined way.

First the scouts, weapons in hand, wearing sleeveless leather jackets, their spry mounts dancing as if they were fully rested. Then four Knights in long red cloaks protecting the Queen's white palfrey. Then Sir Perceval on his massive gelding, his hand on his sword though his square jaw is serene.

Behind him, four other armored knights escorting the prince and princess, then the dozing Dolma, the yawing nanny, five packhorses and finally two riders to watch the back.

This is a relatively small party: the trip was a simple courtesy visit and the roads are safe between Camelot and the realm of Gawant.

Guinevere's back is straight even after hours of riding. She looks beautiful in the stunning aubergine silk dress flooding over the embroidered harness of her palfrey. Her dark curls are braided in a crown on her head, held by a simple headband adorned with jewels and gathered in a net on her graceful neck. Time weaved silver threads in her hair. Over the years, soft curves have settled on her hips and thin wrinkles now hem her mouth and the corners of her eyes.

The gray and white greyhound of the Queen is trotting beside her, his tongue hanging out. Well trained, the dog does not slow down to sniff anything on the roadside. His ears only twitch a little when he hears the muffled sound of a doe bounding away.

- "Are we there yet?" Emrys asks in a high-pitched voice.

Guinevere simply turns round and offers him a patient smile, but Sir Leon, the blond knight with a dreadful scar across his face who rides beside the little boy, bends over to him.

- "We'll be home soon, Your Highness", he says gently, as if he was not tired of repeating the same thing for about two hours.

Albion rolls her eyes and sighs dramatically, while Mordred stifles a smirk.

Both reactions do not get lost on the prince who glowers at them.

They have been travelling for five hours now and he has more than enough of sitting on his pony without being able to gallop or stop whenever he wants.

He's hot, he's thirsty, his buttocks are sore and he finds this all very unfair. The visit to Gawant was terribly boring for a six years old child: no one of his age to play with, two days of endless discussions and courtesies during which he sat on the edge of his seat and swung his legs despite the wrathful glares of the Dolma and the supplicants glances of his nanny, a banquet with only courtly love songs and no jugglers – not even a dancing bear.

Real torture.

- "Next time, I'll stay at the castle", he grumbles sulkily.

- "As if", retorts Albion. "Mother said ..."

Her little brother hastens to complete the sentence at full speed, pinching his nose.

- "You'reaprinceandprincesdon'tgettodowhattheywantonedayyou'llunderstandwhyit'sharderforyouthanforothers". He sucks in a breath then pulls his tongue to his sister. "I know what Mother said."

- "Well then", she shrugs.

The child's blue eyes sparkle with anger.

- "Even you don't do what's right all the time!"

- "I do what's necessary", corrects Albion with another exasperated and grandiloquent sigh. "I act every bit as I'm meant to, I'll have you know. I did not lose my temper and I did not go horseriding with Lady Elena as I wished to, because someone had to keep company to this Blodwen of Gawant. You have no idea how her conversation is boring. She is a contemptuous and ignorant plague."

Guinevere's voice reaches them, calm but full of warnings.

- "Albion Pendragon."

- "She spoke ill of my favorite books when she hadn't even read them, Mother!" exclaims the girl, outraged. "I longed to tell her she was being rather ridiculous, but I didn't say a word and I even let her simper and jabber to her heart content about a Sir Richard who seems to be an absolute prat! Mother, I was an example of virtue and diplomacy, let me say what I want now that she's no longer there to hear it! "

Mordred hides his snicker behind a cough and focuses on the sun dappling in gold the violets on the roadside.

Guinevere sighs and shakes her head.

Albion scowls and sags on her hackney, which earns her a reproachful ahem from the Dolma.

The princess is sixteen. She has a triangular face, long honeyed hair cascading in soft curls over her shoulders and amber eyes sparkling with life. She is wearing a dark blue brocade dress with slashed cream sleeves, which emphasizes her adolescent grace and yet conceals her woman's curves, and a crafted leather belt girdled low on her hips. Her feet, that she hates, are shod with embroidered ballerinas. When she smiles, her endearingly pointy teeth give her the stance of a young wolf.

She is very different from her brother, first because of her porcelain complexion contrasting with his mate skin, but also in her morphology. She is slender but small, he will be tall and sturdy as was their father, this can already be seen in the shape of his shoulders and his well-developed chest for a child this age. An avalanche of dark locks brush Emrys' chubby cheeks. He has long eyelashes and eyes as blue as a clear winter sky, harmonized with his linen surcoat adorned with the Pendragon crest. He is dressed like a little man, with spurs, a tiny dagger in his belt and a velvet cap jauntily set on his cute head.

Their cousin, who rides next to them, is nineteen and the youngest knight of Camelot, dubbed by Arthur himself as he was dying on a lake shores after the Battle of Camlann against the Saxons. Mordred is a pale young man with eyes of a fugitive azure, nuanced in jasper and gold like the reflection of a rainbow in a puddle. His mop of black curls and his round face give him an air of the child he never was, grown up too soon to protect his mother. He rides as regally as the queen, squaring his shoulders in his chainmail coat like Sir Leon, splendid and proud with his red cloak billowing over his white horse, keeping his gloved hand on his sword as Sir Perceval does.

They are called "the children of the king". One day the weight of the world will rest on their shoulders. But for now this future is far from their thoughts.

TO BE CONTINUED