Three years had passed since their conversation in that dimly lit tavern. Britain had transformed under Art's leadership—Saxon incursions reduced to occasional nuisances, internal conflicts largely resolved through her established governance framework, and prosperity returning to regions long plagued by violence and uncertainty.
At twenty-one, Art had matured into a truly formidable leader. No longer the impulsive girl who had drawn Caliburn from stone, she commanded with quiet authority that required no theatrical displays of power. Lords who had once dismissed her based on gender now sought her counsel, while common folk spoke her name with reverent appreciation.
Bobby observed these developments with his characteristic detachment, occasionally providing guidance on complex matters but increasingly finding Art capable of resolving challenges independently. Her governance approach blended practical effectiveness with surprising compassion—establishing consistent taxation that funded infrastructure and defense without crushing those it served.
Peace, however, brought its own complications. For Bobby, the stabilization of Britain represented both success and tedium. Existential threats generated novelty; prosperity produced predictability. Having witnessed countless civilizations rise and fall across eons, he found himself increasingly detached from daily governance concerns.
This detachment manifested in periodic absences. Bobby would vanish for days or sometimes weeks, offering no explanation upon return. Art never directly questioned these disappearances, though Bobby noted the subtle tension in her expression when he reappeared.
During these absences, Bobby indulged his physical appetites with characteristic efficiency. Tonight found him in a coastal village far from Art's administrative center, entertaining twin sisters in the region's most discreet establishment.
"More wine?" asked Lina—or perhaps it was Leah, as they were identical in appearance and deliberately interchangeable in behavior.
"No," Bobby replied, reclining naked on the substantial bed. "Come here instead."
The twins exchanged knowing smiles before approaching from opposite sides. Their lithe bodies, barely twenty summers old, moved with practiced synchronization as they joined him on the mattress. One straddled his face while the other took position between his legs, her warm mouth engulfing his already hardening cock.
Bobby's enhanced physiology responded instantly, blood flow precisely controlled to create perfect erection. He gripped the thighs of the woman above him, pulling her pussy down to his mouth and applying his tongue with calculated precision.
"Oh gods," she gasped, grinding against his face as his tongue found her sensitive bud.
Meanwhile, her sister worked his shaft with impressive skill, taking him deeply before withdrawing to swirl her tongue around the sensitive head. Bobby maintained perfect awareness of both women simultaneously, adjusting his techniques based on their physical responses.
After bringing the woman on his face to a shuddering climax, he effortlessly repositioned both sisters. One he bent forward on all fours, the other he placed on her back beneath her sister's face.
"Watch each other," he commanded, positioning himself behind the kneeling twin.
With a single powerful thrust, he entered her from behind, eliciting a sharp cry of pleasure. His cock filled her completely, stretching her inner walls as he established steady rhythm. The sister beneath watched with obvious arousal as Bobby's thick shaft withdrew glistening with moisture before plunging back inside.
"Lick her," Bobby instructed the woman being penetrated, indicating her sister's exposed pussy below.
She complied eagerly, creating erotic triangle of pleasure—Bobby fucking one sister while she pleasured the other with her mouth. He maintained perfect control throughout, varying his pace and depth to maximize their enjoyment while postponing his own release.
When he finally allowed himself to climax, he withdrew and positioned both women side by side on their knees. With practiced strokes, he brought himself to completion, shooting thick ropes of cum across both their faces. The sisters moaned appreciatively, licking the warm fluid from each other's cheeks and lips.
"You're not like other men," observed one twin, wiping a drop of cum from her chin before sucking it from her finger.
"That much is obvious," her sister agreed, eyes still dilated with pleasure.
Bobby smiled thinly but offered no comment. After ensuring their physical satisfaction—a matter of professional pride rather than emotional connection—he dressed and departed with minimal conversation. Physical release accomplished, his interest in further interaction evaporated.
The journey back to the administrative center took three days, during which Bobby reflected on his increasingly precarious position in this timeline. The quantum temporal energy continued its steady accumulation, suggesting perhaps another decade before critical mass triggered displacement. Not insignificant in human terms, but barely a moment in his vast experience.
More problematic was his evolving relationship with Art. Their tavern conversation three years earlier had introduced possibility beyond mentor-student dynamic, yet neither had taken definitive steps toward altering their association. Art maintained respectful deference in public while occasionally revealing more personal vulnerability in private, particularly when discussing Britain's future beyond her direct leadership.
Bobby recognized the pattern from countless historical observations—the tension between public symbolism and private humanity that often tormented effective leaders. Art had sacrificed traditional female experiences for extraordinary achievement, yet increasingly wondered what personal fulfillment might entail once her primary mission reached sustainable stability.
Upon returning to the administrative center—a restored Roman fortress expanded with innovations Bobby had introduced from various historical eras—he found the usual flurry of activity. Messengers arrived and departed continuously, while regional representatives sought audience with the High Commander on matters ranging from taxation disputes to infrastructure proposals.
Art herself was absent from the command chamber, which surprised Bobby given the typical governance schedule. Instead, he found her in an unexpected location—the small harbor adjacent to the fortress, observing construction of an unusual vessel.
The ship taking shape represented significant departure from typical British watercraft. Following Bobby's discreet guidance, the shipwrights had incorporated design elements from multiple maritime traditions—Norse longship speed, Roman trading vessel stability, and several features that wouldn't be developed for centuries in normal historical progression.
"An impressive vessel," Bobby observed, approaching Art where she stood observing the construction. "The modifications to the hull design will improve both speed and stability in rough conditions."
Art turned at his voice, her expression revealing momentary surprise before settling into practiced neutrality. "Three weeks absence this time," she noted without direct accusation. "The coastal villages must offer remarkable attractions."
Bobby smiled thinly. "Simple diversion rather than attraction." He gestured toward the ship. "Your interest in maritime construction is recent."
"My interest in your commissioned projects is ongoing," Art countered. "Particularly when resources for their creation come from treasury funds."
Bobby inclined his head, acknowledging her point. "The investment yields technological advancement. British shipbuilding has lagged behind Norse capabilities for generations."
Art studied him with the penetrating gaze that had intensified over their years together. At twenty-one, she'd grown into a striking woman, though not in conventional ways. Her preference for practical clothing continued, though the material quality had improved with her position. Her hair remained shorter than traditional female styles but now appeared deliberately fashionable rather than merely functional. Most remarkable was her bearing—the quiet confidence of someone who commanded not through inherited privilege but demonstrated capability.
"This ship isn't meant for military application," Art observed. "Its design prioritizes distance voyaging over troop transport or coastal defense."
"Correct assessment," Bobby acknowledged. "Exploration rather than warfare dictated the specifications."
"Exploration," Art repeated, something wary entering her expression. "Toward what purpose, given your... unique capabilities regarding travel?"
The question approached dangerous territory. Art had experienced enough unusual phenomena surrounding Bobby to recognize his abilities transcended normal human limitations, though she lacked framework for understanding their true nature.
"Sailing has certain aesthetic appeal that instantaneous transportation lacks," Bobby replied, deliberately vague. "The journey itself offers perspectives unavailable through immediate arrival."
"I see." Art's tone suggested she understood more than his words conveyed. "And when do you plan this journey of aesthetic exploration?"
"Soon," Bobby said simply. "Britain's stability under your leadership creates opportunity for temporary absence."
Art turned back toward the ship, her profile revealing nothing of her thoughts. "You're leaving," she stated rather than asked. "Not merely temporary absence but genuine departure."
Bobby studied her response with analytical interest. Her perception had grown remarkably sophisticated over their years together. "Eventually," he acknowledged. "Though timing remains flexible."
"And you weren't going to ask me to join you," Art continued, still facing the ship rather than meeting his gaze. "Despite our conversation years ago regarding potential futures beyond Britain's immediate needs."
The observation surprised Bobby slightly—not the content but the directness. Art typically approached personal matters with greater circumspection.
"Your responsibilities here remain significant," he pointed out. "Britain's stability requires continued guidance through established systems."
Art turned to face him fully, something uncharacteristically emotional breaking through her carefully maintained composure. "You claimed to offer choice, yet now prepare departure without consultation."
"Choice remains available," Bobby countered. "Though exercising it requires willingness to release established identity in favor of uncertain future."
"You believe I lack such willingness?" There was challenge in her tone now, the same determination that had faced down Saxon armies and skeptical nobility.
Bobby studied her with enhanced perception, noting subtle physiological indicators of emotional conflict—slightly elevated heart rate, minor capillary dilation, pupillary contraction despite ambient lighting. "I believe attachment to achievement creates complex barriers to personal transformation," he said carefully. "Britain's High Commander cannot simultaneously be anonymous explorer without sacrificing hard-won authority."
"So my choice is between duty and freedom," Art summarized, her expression hardening slightly. "Between responsibility to others and potential personal fulfillment."
"Most significant choices involve competing values rather than simple preferences," Bobby observed. "Historical figures who attempt to maintain contradictory identities typically fail at both."
Art fell silent, returning her gaze to the ship under construction. The workers continued their labor, oblivious to the significance of the conversation occurring nearby.
"When will it be completed?" she finally asked.
"Approximately three weeks," Bobby replied. "Though sea trials will require additional time before extended voyage."
Art nodded almost imperceptibly. "I would appreciate notification before your departure."
Before Bobby could respond, a messenger approached at urgent pace, informing Art that the Norman emissaries had arrived for their scheduled audience. Without further acknowledgment of their conversation, she departed to fulfill her governance responsibilities, leaving Bobby alone with the unfinished ship and unresolved tension.
Later that evening, Bobby found himself alone in the small tower room he'd claimed as private quarters. Unlike the ornate chambers befitting his advisory position, these simple accommodations provided isolation for activities requiring privacy from curious observers.
Tonight, he performed routine nanite system inventory, a process invisible to external observation but essential for maintaining optimal functionality. The microscopic machines that sustained his immortality required periodic reassessment and occasionally reprogramming based on cumulative data analysis.
A soft knock interrupted his internal diagnostics. Bobby recognized the distinctive pattern—three rapid taps followed by two slower ones—as Art's established signal for private conversation.
"Enter," he called, shifting mental focus from internal systems to external awareness.
Art appeared in the doorway, having changed from formal attire to simpler clothing more reminiscent of her early training days. The regression to practical garments typically indicated desire for honest exchange rather than official consultation.
"The Norman delegation departed satisfied," she reported, though Bobby recognized this as pretext rather than purpose for her visit. "Their trading rights have been formalized with appropriate tariff arrangements."
"Excellent negotiation," Bobby responded, allowing her to establish conversational direction at her own pace. "Normandy represents valuable commercial partnership without direct political entanglement."
Art nodded absently, clearly preoccupied with unspoken concerns. She paced the small chamber briefly before stopping at the simple window overlooking the fortress courtyard below.
"You spoke of choice this afternoon," she said finally, still facing the window rather than meeting his gaze. "Suggesting I remain unwilling to release established identity for uncertain future."
"An observation rather than criticism," Bobby clarified. "Identity becomes increasingly difficult to transform proportional to investment in its construction."
Art turned, something unusually vulnerable in her expression. "What if the identity was never fully embraced? What if the symbol remained partially separate from the person beneath it?"
The question revealed psychological complexity Bobby hadn't fully anticipated. Throughout their years together, Art had appeared increasingly integrated with her leadership role, displaying minimal conflict between personal preference and public responsibility.
"Interesting distinction," he acknowledged. "Though separation between public performance and private self typically creates progressive psychological strain."
"Perhaps," Art conceded. "Yet you yourself demonstrate remarkable compartmentalization. The advisor who guides Britain's reconstruction vanishes periodically for 'simple diversions' without apparent identity conflict."
Bobby smiled thinly. "My circumstances differ significantly from yours."
"In what specific ways?" Art pressed, approaching where he sat. "You speak of historical patterns and leadership burdens as if personally familiar beyond scholarly observation. Sometimes I wonder if you've lived multiple lifetimes, accumulating knowledge impossible for single existence."
The observation approached uncomfortable accuracy. Bobby recalculated appropriate response, balancing truth against comprehensibility within Art's existing framework.
"Experience accumulates differently for different individuals," he said carefully. "Some penetrate deeper meaning within single lifetime than others achieve through multiple incarnations."
"More cryptic non-answers," Art observed, though without genuine irritation. Her lips curved in slight smile that softened her features remarkably. "I've grown accustomed to your deliberate mysteriousness over the years."
"Direct answers sometimes create more confusion than illumination," Bobby replied. "Context determines comprehensibility."
Art's expression shifted toward something more deliberately vulnerable. "Then perhaps I should ask questions with clearer context." She moved closer, stopping directly before him. "Are you afraid to touch me, Merlin?"
The directness of the question momentarily disoriented Bobby's typically perfect composure. In their years together, physical contact had remained exclusively functional—training adjustments, medical assistance, occasional battlefield support. Nothing approaching intimate connection had transpired despite their tavern conversation years earlier.
"Fear doesn't apply," Bobby said carefully. "Appropriate boundaries maintain effective advisory relationship."
"And if I requested different relationship?" Art asked, her voice steady despite the significant departure from their established interaction pattern.
Bobby studied her with enhanced perception, noting physiological indicators of both determination and apprehension—the complex mixture indicating genuine emotional investment rather than tactical maneuvering.
"Request requires careful consideration," he replied, deliberately neutral. "Established dynamics resist sudden transformation without potentially destabilizing consequences."
Art's expression hardened slightly. "More theoretical deflection. For someone who offered choice years ago, you seem remarkably reluctant to acknowledge its exercise."
The observation contained sufficient accuracy to warrant reconsideration. Bobby had indeed suggested potential relationship evolution beyond advisory function, yet now erected barriers against its implementation. The inconsistency required acknowledgment.
With deliberate movement, he raised his hand to her face, fingers lightly touching her cheek in gesture that transcended their established boundaries. The physical contact represented significant departure from their typical interaction parameters.
Art immediately tensed, unconsciously stepping backward despite having explicitly requested such contact. Her reaction revealed underlying complexity—intellectual desire conflicting with ingrained physical boundaries established through years of formal association.
"Interesting response," Bobby observed, lowering his hand. "Requested connection triggers instinctive withdrawal."
Art's cheeks flushed slightly, rare display of embarrassment breaking through her customary composure. "I didn't expect—" she began, then stopped, recalibrating. "That is, I thought..."
"Physical boundaries reflect psychological ones," Bobby said simply. "Transformation requires progressive adjustment rather than immediate reversal."
Art's embarrassment shifted toward frustration. "You're analyzing rather than participating again."
"Accurate observation," Bobby acknowledged, standing to reduce their proximity's awkwardness. "Perhaps consideration during our separate activities provides useful perspective. I'll be departing tomorrow for several days to oversee final preparations for the ship's completion."
"Running away," Art said flatly, her vulnerability hardening into familiar command presence.
"Strategic withdrawal to allow mutual recalibration," Bobby countered with faint smile. "Significant transitions benefit from thoughtful preparation rather than impulsive implementation."
Before Art could respond, Bobby simply vanished—teleporting from the chamber to distant location without conventional movement. The departure represented deliberate demonstration of his otherworldly capabilities while simultaneously avoiding further conversation complexity.
He reappeared on coastal cliffside several miles from the administrative center, overlooking moonlit waters where his commissioned vessel would eventually sail. The quantum temporal energy signatures continued their steady accumulation, reminding him that this particular displacement remained temporary despite its extended duration.
Art's unexpected directness created interesting variables in his remaining time within this historical period. Her leadership development had exceeded even his optimistic projections, establishing governance framework that would likely survive beyond her direct oversight. Britain's trajectory had already deviated significantly from historical patterns Bobby had observed across countless timelines—a female unifier rather than male king, peaceful integration rather than violent conquest, diplomatic alliance rather than military subjugation.
The question remained whether Art herself would follow divergent personal trajectory or ultimately conform to historical patterns of leadership isolation and eventual disillusionment. The next several weeks would likely provide definitive indication of this particular timeline's ultimate configuration.
With that analytical assessment complete, Bobby turned his attention toward practical preparations for potential departure. Whether traveling alone or accompanied, the vessel would require careful provisioning and final modifications before extended journey could commence.
Art, meanwhile, returned to her private chambers within the fortress core, dismissing attendants with uncharacteristic abruptness. Alone with her thoughts, she poured small measure of imported wine—rare luxury she typically avoided but occasionally employed for significant contemplation.
"Coward," she muttered, unclear whether the accusation targeted Bobby's convenient disappearance or her own instinctive withdrawal from his touch. After years imagining potential beyond their established relationship, the actual transition apparently required more adjustment than anticipated.
The coming weeks would determine whether High Commander of Britain could truly transcend the identity she'd constructed with such dedication, or whether the weight of achievement would ultimately anchor her to familiar shores despite distant horizons beckoning with untold possibility.