Arthur woke early. It surprised him. After the past few days and the feast last night, he had expected to sleep as late as anyone else in the city. Given that most of the court had drunk itself to a cheerful stupor last night, that was likely to be late morning at the earliest, and yet the new King was up with the sun and too wide awake to go back to sleep. He lay quietly for awhile, staring at the ceiling before he tossed the blankets aside and rolled to his feet, crossing over to the windows and straightening his bedclothes as he went. The sun had barely crested the trees when he pulled the curtains aside. The highest towers were lit with a rosy light, and all over birds were singing in the new morning.

He had been King for less than a day, and already he felt the change in the people. The common folk- what he had seen of them- were laughing again. Their celebrations had gone later into the night than the court's had, and Arthur had gone to sleep with the echoes of peasant music in his ears. The nobility were happier, too, as though a great weight had been lifted off their shoulders. "I suppose it has," he mused. A new King and a new regime meant that the people had a chance to start over, in a way, and given the diverging paths that Arthur and Uther had been walking in the past few years, everyone was ready for a fresh start.

Except for most of the Privy Council. Gaius and Geoffery, being the eldest members of council, were the most reasonable ones. Age had worn away rough edges and taught them patience. The rest of them, though. . . They were his father's choices through and through. Rough men, steeped in politics and accustomed to getting what they wanted. Replacing them would be a tricky proposition. Many of them held lands on the borders and if they felt that their new King was betraying them they might just cross those borders, seek aid from his enemies, and return to Camelot in rebellion. And yet he needed to replace most of them in order to move Camelot forward.

One more point of contention between Arthur and the councilmen rode through the courtyard just then. Merlin had returned from whatever task he had appointed himself, for once looking none the worse for it before he disappeared around the corner. "Where will he disappear to next?" Arthur could not help but remember Merlin's words from the day before, that they would not be able to go on as they had before, not when so many of Camelot's most powerful lords hated the sorcerer so much. The King hated to admit it, but his servant was right. If they did not call for Merlin's immediate arrest and execution at their first meeting, Arthur would be surprised. It would continue that way, he knew, until the law was changed, and the law would not change until the council had changed. They were in for a long fight. "But I suppose that's nothing new to him. That's been his life's work." Arthur sighed and flopped down into his desk chair. Hours into his reign, and there was already so much to do.

The heavy signet ring of Camelot lay on the desk before him, the dragon sigil facing him. Newly polished, it shone brightly, even in the dim light. He slipped it onto the first finger of his right hand, wondering at the fit- as though it had been made specifically for him. It would take time to get used to wearing it. Until now, the only embellishment he had ever worn was the chain of his knighthood. So much was changing so fast.

He glanced toward the merlin's perch by the window. Merlin the sorcerer had sent merlin the bird off with a message yesterday. A short letter from Arthur to Guinevere in Longstead, to tell her what had happened, and that it was safe to come home again. Suddenly, he wanted nothing more than to have her back, safe in his arms, with the scent of her lavender soap tickling his nose. Merlin had assured him the bird could be back as soon as this morning with her reply. He was tempted to flip the hourglass and watch the sands fall until the bird returned.

Outside, a raucous noise kicked up, as though a flock of crows had been disturbed by something and was letting the world know about it. When they failed to quiet down, he pushed out of the chair and went to the window. In the still-empty courtyard, a score or so of crows was indeed circling about, wheeling and diving at something in their midst. Arthur could not tell what it was until a gray blur broke free of them at last, streaking up to the King's window, brushing his face with its wings at it flew into the room. Arthur nearly fell backward, but kept his feet and slammed the windows shut before the crows could follow.

"What the hell. . . ?" he blurted out, spinning about to find where the bird had gone, spotting it as it began its second or third circuit of the room before landing on the perch. It was his merlin, its wings still spread wide, beak open and ready to stab at him if he dared approach. Its eyes were wilder than usual. A dark stain spread across the bird's pale gray breast and drops of watery red blood spotted the floor below it. The crows had attacked it en masse. It seemed the falcon had just barely escaped them. A chill ran down Arthur's spine when he glanced at the window and found two of the dark birds perched on the ledge, silently staring through the glass. He flicked the curtains shut, unsure why they suddenly seemed so menacing.

Long minutes passed before the merlin calmed enough for Arthur to gingerly remove the note tied to one of its legs. The bleeding had stopped, and the bird set about preening itself, sending downy clumps of blood-crusted feathers to the floor. Outside, the crows started screeching again, setting his nerves at edge even as his heart leaped at the sight of Guinevere's handwriting. "It's not a warning," he thought as he watched the birds disappear into the distance. He could not say why the crows made him uneasy, or why the sight of the bloodied merlin felt like an omen. He was no oracle, to guess at the future. He was just a King with all the mundane abilities that went along with it. But it still felt like a warning.

"Please, God," he sent the thought out to whatever god might be listening, "Don't let it be an omen."

A/N: And we've reached the end of another story! I hope you've enjoyed reading it. Stay tuned for the next installment, "A Study in Gray". I'm hoping to start posting it by the end of the week. Thank you for reading, and especially for all the lovely comments! I truly appreciate them.