rabbit hearted boy, part two
Part One
Part Two
As Arthur grew older, the people of Camelot developed a routine. To say that everyone had become used to the prince’s unusual condition would be something of an exaggeration - the sight of a small child suddenly floating past, as happened on more careless occasions, was always surprising, no matter how well aware the people were of the possibility - but they had all developed their own ways of handling the matter.
The king did so by making sure every possible situation the prince could fall into was prepared for and precautions were taken against it, a decision which included temporarily hiring someone whose sole responsibility was to think about the potential scrapes Arthur could get into and never allowing the boy outside of the castle grounds.
Uther’s over protectiveness was matched only by Ygraine’s. She had expected to participate less in her queenly duties and spend more time with her son in the first few years of Arthur’s birth; she had not expected to be constantly in need of a ladder and running after a floating child. Thus, whereas she had previously been the voice of reason in her marriage, and the one Uther’s advisors looked to when they could not make him see what they thought sense, she now supported nearly all of even the most far-fetched of her husband’s ideas in order to prevent Arthur from falling - or, as was more likely to be the case, flying - into harm’s way.
The nobles dealt with the problem by never speaking of the prince’s predicament out loud. Even amongst themselves without the presence of the king and queen, it was considered too delicate a matter to discuss in polite society.
The people living in the town were unconcerned with the opinion of polite society, and spoke about it regularly. Unless something particularly shocking had occurred, such as two young lovers running away together, any tales relating to the prince were the highlight of the day’s gossip, especially if his little head was spotted floating higher than the castle walls.
The castle servants, however, enjoyed the whole situation very much. Prince Arthur was possibly the most loved child in any castle in all of Albion, and that had nothing to do with his temperament, which although continuously pleasant, was not particularly given to kindness or an ability to see his servants as anything more than people who existed for his own amusement. No, the reason he was so loved was because his condition meant the servants could play with him, and not have any fear of injuring their future ruler: losing him if they left the window open on a blustery day, yes, but not hurting him.
So, by the time Arthur was ten years old, everyone had become set in their ways, and none more so than Arthur himself. One might have wondered how it was that despite all the efforts of the king, young Arthur managed to continually find himself so high above ground, but a short attempt at conversation with the boy would easily provide the answer. The effect of lightness on his spirit was just as strong, if not stronger, as its effect on his body, and Arthur was unable to take anything seriously; not even his own condition and the hazardous consequences it could have. If his parents had made more of an effort to be firm with him, perhaps they might have been able to ground his character slightly, but the truth was that Arthur was spoiled. Ygraine was well aware this was her and Uther’s doing, but even when it led to sticky situations she could not completely regret their past actions. In Arthur’s first few years it had seemed as if every day revealed a new source of potential danger and yet another thing he would not be allowed to do, so how could she help herself from granting her only child his every other request?
This temperament was exacerbated by the fact that the prince was surrounded almost entirely by people so much older than him, all of whom constantly saw him as the future heir to Camelot, and treated him as such; and the blame for this fell mainly on his parents too. Despite his pleasantness, his overly careless temper and lack of consideration for others meant he had little about his person to recommend himself to anyone as a friend, but even the most vile or annoying of ten year old boys will have plenty of children eager to be his friend if he is a prince. However, the many rules his parents had set meant Arthur had not had the opportunity to meet more than two people his own age. The first was Morgana, who visited the castle regularly with her father, but she found Arthur much too silly and irritating to pay much attention to on her trips - unless he got himself into trouble and stuck in the air, in which case she found him most amusing. The second was a young boy by the name of Merlin, the ward of Gaius and a servant in training, and an unlikely sort of friendship existed between the two.
At first, Arthur had only been pleased to find someone smaller than himself, on whom he could impress his own sense of importance and pick on, and Merlin had felt obliged to let him because of his station, but over time the pair had formed a strange bond. It may have helped that Merlin had an unusual problem of his own: that he had been born with magical powers.
Uther had become even stricter with regards to the practising of magic in Camelot following Nimueh’s actions at Arthur’s christening, but it was still technically allowed; although most who still did practise it did their best to keep it quiet. When Gaius’ old friend Hunith had died, his sadness at her passing had soon given way to uncertainty in the light of her leaving her now-orphaned son Merlin to his care. He may have aided with the care of Arthur, but he felt that caring for a three year old boy by himself was a little dissimilar, particularly when he brought Merlin back to the castle and discovered when trying to wash him that the boy’s fingers emitted sparks.
He had fretted, but soon realised the only thing to do was to tell Uther straight away that Merlin was magical, making clear that he would do his best to curb the direction of the boy’s powers. It soon turned out that Gaius had little to fear. Although Uther was initially stern, observation of the boy proved he was unable to use his powers to do little other than shape smoke and create short streams of bright sparks, and so his presence at the castle was permitted, with certain conditions and the promise that he would be informed at once should Merlin grow more powerful. This was only a temporary relief to Gaius, although it turned out it was not something he ever had to worry about, for Merlin’s powers did not develop. Even when Gaius dug out his old books to try to teach Merlin about magic, purely in the interest of knowledge and possibly refining the gifts, of course, he was not up to the task.
So, when Merlin was not busy helping the stable master or Gaius with their duties, the two boys could be found spending the afternoon together; during which Merlin usually tried but failed to perform a spell and Arthur laughed at him, until he moved the wrong way, got caught in the air and began to float and Merlin laughed at him, until the prince was fetched back down.
*
“What’s the matter with you today?”
Morgana glanced sideways at her father who was riding next to her. “Nothing.”
“You don’t look very pleased,” he pointed out as their horses took them closer to the castle gates.
“I just don’t see why we have to come to Camelot all the time.”
“I thought you liked it here.”
“I guess,” she supposed, “but I’d rather be in the mountains. When are we going back?”
“Soon, Morgana,” he reassured her. “But in the meantime I’m sure we’ll have a nice visit. Don’t you want to see Uther, Ygraine and Arthur again?”
Gorlois discovered that was the wrong thing to say when she made a disgusted face. “No!”
“No?”
“Well, I’d like to see King Uther and Queen Ygraine, but I don’t care about seeing Arthur,” she said, with a little sharpness in her voice.
Gorlois frowned. He knew Morgana and Arthur didn’t get on particularly well, and whenever Arthur and that friend of his were told to include Morgana in their games they seemed to just played tricks on each other, but he hadn’t thought there had been anything significantly worse than the usual things children got up to, especially as they were usually supervised by one of the servants just in case Arthur got carried away. “Morgana, is there something you wish to tell me?”
“No.” After a pause she added, “Is there something you wish to tell me?”
He couldn’t help but smile inwardly at that (she really did remind him of himself sometimes) but kept his best expression of fatherly concern on. “What do you mean?”
Morgana sighed, but finally admitted, “It is just something that Vivian said.”
“What was it?” Gorlois wondered. They had needed to break up their journey to Camelot, and Gorlois had been given a place to stay in King Olaf’s court before. That had been some time ago, but he had hoped that Uther’s good relationship with Olaf and the good name of Le Fay would be enough to give him and Morgana shelter. A bed for the night had turned into two nights; Olaf had been so hospitable he hadn’t been able to refuse, and it was surely good for Morgana to be able to spend some time with another girl her own age when she did not have any company other than his own, except for when they were in Camelot. The young Lady Vivian had seemed like a nice enough twelve year old, and he was unsure what she could have said to vex Morgana.
“Vivian said I am meant to marry Arthur!” she said, with a pout gracing her features. “But you never told me that!”
“Well, I never told you that because it is not true.” And it wasn’t. Yes, there may have been a time when he and Uther had considered the possibility of their children marrying, but they had never talked about it properly, and that had been before either of them had had any. Perhaps he was biased but, as much as he cared for Arthur in the way anyone would their best friend’s child, and found the boy pleasant at the best of times, Gorlois thought his daughter could do better. Marrying Arthur may make her a Queen in the future, but he was not keen on the idea of his Morgana having to spend her life running after a floating King. “You do not have to marry Arthur.”
“Oh. Well, good,” she said, just as the drawbridge was lowered and they crossed into the courtyard, where Uther and Ygraine were waiting, their son standing between them. Ygraine’s hand rested on his shoulder and to one unaware of the boy’s situation it may have looked like a simple familial gesture, but as Gorlois was well versed in his condition he saw it for what it was: a necessary action to keep the prince from flying off the ground.
Gorlois watched as his daughter greeted the king and queen of Camelot with a smile and curtsey, but noticed as he embraced Uther that she sent Arthur a not-so-thinly veiled sneer. When Ygraine stepped forward to hug Gorlois, he pretended not to notice the prince’s slight rise in height before Uther clapped down on his shoulder and quickly pushed him back to the ground. Morgana looked as though she was about to giggle, but one glare from her father set her expression straight once more.
As soon as the usual pleasantries regarding their journey were shared, Uther suggested, “Shall we go inside?”
Gorlois dutifully nodded his assent, pleased to note that although he could see more grey in Uther’s thinning hair, and an increase in frown lines, his friend seemed little changed outside of his appearance. As much as keeping Arthur inside would have been the more sensible thing to do, guests of the king were always to be greeted by the whole family in the courtyard, and Uther clearly would not let something like a little lightness prevent certain traditions from being upheld.
When the children were dismissed from the company of their parents, neither was pleased and Marie, who had been sent to look after them, had to work hard to keep a conversation up with herself in an attempt to wipe the sullen look off Morgana’s face and the pleased but bored look on Arthur’s. Even the arrival of Merlin in the playroom failed to enliven them: at least not until Merlin asked if they wanted to see the new spell he was working on.
“Oh, no, Merlin, you had better not,” Marie instantly said, but Arthur shook his head.
“Why not?” he whined. “I want to see it.”
“You can’t do spells properly, anyway,” Morgana stated.
“I can!” he countered, the small boy’s long face falling.
“Anything other than making shapes in smoke yet? Didn’t think so,” she added, when Merlin could not reply.
“Show us the trick then,” Arthur said in his best princely tone.
Merlin looked so deflated by Morgana’s put down that Marie couldn’t help agreeing. He was such a sweet little boy, always trying to help everyone. His presence was sometimes more of a hindrance, but he clearly had good intentions. “Go on, then, Merlin. I would very much like to see your new spell too.”
He smiled at that and raised his palms to the fireplace. Slowly a shape emerged from the grey smoke: it was straight and tall at the base, but at the top the smoke formed small clouds around it. The grey turned first into red, and then changed to a mix of brown and green, revealing it was a tree, a sight that pleased even the two more discerning members of the audience. All had seen Merlin make the shapes before, but none had ever changed colour.
Arthur clapped at the spectacle. “Can you do that for the others?”
Merlin nodded eagerly and began going through his repertoire of shapes, beginning with the horse and turning it brown. They all gave requests, for both shapes and colours and enjoyed it immensely, especially when he turned shapes the wrong colours. The sight of a blue duck, had Morgana and Arthur agreeing for the first time in their lives, that it was the funniest thing they had seen.
Soon another servant arrived to watch over Arthur, reminding both Merlin and Marie they needed to leave to attend to their chores. On their way out she noticed Morgana and Arthur turn bored again, but Merlin at least was still smiling. When they separated, her to the stables, him to the physician’s quarters, Marie gently ruffled his hair and slipped him a sugar cube out of the pocket of her apron; he certainly needed it more than the horses.
*
Morgana found she enjoyed this visit to Camelot more than some of her previous ones, perhaps largely due to the fact that she happened to spend much of it in the company of Ygraine, whom was always very nice, and seemed to enjoy Morgana’s tales about the forests and mountains she had seen, unlike Vivian who had preferred to play at being a princess. Ygraine had some very fine things, much finer than anything Vivian had, and more beautiful, but she never fussed about them or tried to make Morgana play dress up, for which she was grateful. It also helped that Arthur and Merlin didn’t try to play tricks on her anymore - they wouldn’t dare after what she did back to them on her last visit. It was very fortunate indeed that she had found that frog.
On this particular day during their visit, however, the lack of Arthur’s presence was an annoyance rather than a blessing. Morgana, Gorlois, Uther and Ygraine were all ready to dine but could not eat because Uther would not allow them to touch the food until Arthur was at the table too. And Arthur was nowhere in sight.
“I am sure he just woke up late,” Ygraine said in attempt to smooth over the sour expressions of her three companions; one because of his son’s behaviour in the presence of guests, the other two because of their stomachs.
Gorlois nodded, knowing his friend too well to let his own annoyance show. “It is fine. The delay will simply give us better appetites for when the food does arrive. Don’t you think, Morgana?”
His daughter smiled dutifully, as she mentally put a curse on Arthur.
Ygraine was just about to suggest sending one of the guards to check when the doors to the hall opened. “Ah that must be him n- Merlin!”
“My lady,” he mumbled and gave a short, uncomfortable bow as he stepped through the large doors that dwarfed his small frame, only eight years of age.
“Where is Arthur?” Uther asked.
“That is why I am here, sire. There was…a burst of wind.”
“Oh no!” Ygraine exclaimed. “Has he flown away?” she feared.
“No,” Merlin said quickly. “No, not flown far anyway. He got stuck before he could.”
“Well, stuck where, boy?” demanded Uther, immediately pushing his chair back and standing.
“In a tree.”
In a tree on the nether portion of the castle grounds, to be precise.
Merlin had most feared the king’s wrath in case of him asking how Arthur happened to be in that part of the castle without anyone else noticing - and no one was supposed to know just how often Arthur tried to sneak out of the castle so he was not always cooped up inside, even if he never managed to get past the actual grounds thanks to all the guards - but Uther was so busy trying to organise a rescue that the question of where dwarfed that of why, and flew right out of his head when he saw the manner in which his son had managed to strand himself in the air. It was fortunate for Arthur that he was enchanted, for had anyone else found themselves that high up in the air and almost entirely upside down, with only one foot curled around a tree branch to hold them in place, they would certainly have feared the descent below. As it was, Arthur was merely amused by how small everyone looked as they ran about, and found the strange sensation in his head rather enjoyable.
Watching all the commotion unfold, as people ran left, right and centre to think of what to do, Morgana lifted the train of her dress and ran up to her father, who had deliberately placed himself halfway between Ygraine’s location by the tree and Uther’s pacing about the courtyard so that he was in the best position to be helpful to either of them, should they need him to be. “Father, tell King Uther I can help!”
“Morgana,” he hushed. “Don’t be silly, you must just stay here with me.”
“But, father, I can climb a tree, you know I can.”
“Yes, Morgana, but you need not do so now.”
“But I don’t think anyone else can! Otherwise they would have done that already, wouldn’t they?”
“It is a very tall tree, it is quite dangerous.”
“But they should at least try, shouldn’t they?”
Gorlois sighed. “Do you remember what I told you about how some things are not done in society?”
“Even at a time like this?”
“Especially at a time like this, when everyone is looking.” Morgana looked slightly troubled by this, so Gorlois sought to explain to his daughter more clearly, and continued in hushed tones, “If it is truly a matter of life and death, you are of course allowed to climb a tree in public, but this is not such a matter.”
“So they are certain that it is impossible for Arthur to fall?”
“I’m afraid so, my dear.”
“So…he can’t die if they don’t get him down? He’ll just stay there and…look silly?”
“I’m afraid so,” Gorlois repeated.
“Oh.” Morgana smiled.
The knights had been training when they were alerted to the mishap, and three went straight to fetch the “baby ladder”; a misnomer, for it was taller than four grown men, but whenever Arthur had gotten into a scrape as a child and it had been needed, cries of “the baby’s ladder!” had been heard throughout the castle, and the name had stuck. However, when the other knights approached the tree in question, they noticed that the tree was too tall for even the ladder to reach where Arthur was.
This realisation brought in a whole new level of alarm.
However, as Arthur hung half-upside down in the air, only slightly aware of the growing discomfort of the sensation of blood rushing down to his brain - not that he knew that was what it was - one young man in the courtyard had the good sense to stop and survey the situation before rushing about to look for a solution. As he looked up at the young prince dangling from the tree, he happened to place his hands on his hips and as they rested on his belt he was suddenly struck with an idea.
He dashed to the stables in search of something he’d noticed there before training had begun and luckily found the object straight away. Picking it up, he noticed it was not particularly heavy, but it was long and seemed strong, which was the important part. With it in his hands, he ran back, all the way to the tree.
On one side now stood the ladder, not high enough to reach Prince Arthur, and the king and three knights stood by it, discussing how best to raise it in such a way that it would not lose balance. On the other stood the queen, still giving regular cries of encouragement to her son.
The young man was loathe to ask either of them to move - he could not yet presume to ask a knight, let alone a monarch, to give way to him - but he felt the importance of the situation outweighed his sense of propriety. He approached the queen and said, most sincerely, “Please excuse me, your majesty.”
Ygraine did not recognise the young man in front of her, but he seemed so purposeful in that moment that she backed away slightly to give him some room. It was then that she noticed he held a length of rope in his hands, and on one end, a small circle tied on one end with a knot. She did not see how he would get the rope to extend so high up, but she watched as he unfurled the length of the rope and walked backwards with it, charting a path. He then stopped, and pulled the rope back to him and angled himself in such a way before he threw it that, with the help of the breeze, he managed to make the rope extend as high up as Arthur - but only just.
The end of the rope had landed on the branch just below that which held Arthur’s foot, around where Arthur’s head dangled, and it teetered precariously.
“Prince Arthur! Can you reach?” he cried out.
The prince moved his arm forward and managed to grab hold of it before the end slipped off the branch.
“Hold tight!”
At that, he gave a tug and the prince came loose from the tree, although he stayed floating, upside down, like a kite on a string as he bobbed slightly in the light wind.
Sighs of relief and eventually applause came from the crowd as Arthur was gently lowered closer to the ground. Ygraine was nearest, and she pulled Arthur into a standing position before tugging him to her arms. The boy had a lot of colour in his face, but otherwise seemed perfectly unharmed as he accepted his mother’s hug.
The young man smiled at the sight, as he quickly gathered the rope into his arms, pleased his idea had been successful. He turned, intent on returning it, but had only taken a few steps into the throng of people when he was stopped by the sound of a loud, booming voice.
“You there! It was you? The one who pulled the prince down with the string?”
The people around him, mainly castle staff and a few from the market who had wondered into the grounds to see what was the source of the commotion, all moved their gaze from the young prince to him, as he turned back to face the owner of the voice, who was surprisingly close to him. He trembled, never having been so close to the king before, and briefly wondered if it was considered an offence to handle the prince in such a way. “It was more like rope, sire,” he offered.
“I do not recognise you,” Uther stated. “You are not a knight?”
“No, not yet, sire. I am only training.”
“I see. Well, I would like to extend my thanks to you, young man. You will be well rewarded for the services you have done. May I know who I am thanking?”
The man looked blankly at him, still a little dumbstruck at being spoken to by none other than the king.
“Your name, boy?” Uther prompted.
He soon remembered himself. “My name is Leon, sire.”
*
Leon, henceforth Sir Leon as his reward for saving Prince Arthur, found his first few days of knighthood almost everything he had ever dreamed it would be. He was not required in that time to defend his kingdom from any grave attacks, but in every other respect the duties of a knight had more than lived up to expectations. He had not quite realised all the advantages being a knight would bestow, and as a young man, only just turned eighteen, he greatly appreciated all the smiles his new title brought from pretty ladies, noble and peasant alike. (In fact, his title had brought more than just smiles from some ladies, but he did not think it was at all knightly to take up some of those offers.) He had feared his sudden knighthood might have ruffled a few feathers, but Leon was pleased that it did not seem to be held against him, neither by those he worked alongside, or those now below him, with much training to go before they could receive the same post.
Shortly after his knighthood, however, Leon was harshly awoken to the realities of his new position. Although now a knight, it appeared his new role was to have less to do with being a protector of Camelot, and more to do with being the protector of its crown prince.
Uther had been considering appointing Arthur a personal protector for some time. Ygraine had not been very keen on the idea, thinking it would impinge on Arthur’s freedoms even more than they already did, but the years had proved Arthur could simply not be careful and he would need someone constantly with him until he did. It seemed to Uther that it would be far better for there to be one person with that main responsibility, who could solely focus on Arthur’s safety, rather than sharing the task among everyone. That evidently left room for mistakes, which could no longer be allowed to happen. Leon had already proven himself to be quick thinking and had received nothing but praise from the other knights, and Uther congratulated himself on the decision.
To be granted such a position was an honour, a fact Leon was well aware of. Still, running after a ten year old boy, with a length of string tucked in his belt next to his sword, did not feel particularly honourable.
Running after a twenty year old man felt even less so.
Yet, at the age of twenty eight that was the situation Sir Leon found himself in, on an unfortunately frequent basis.
“Prince Arthur! Prince Arthur!”
From the other end of the hallway a groan sounded. “I told you we should have gone the other way,” a voice hissed, but the outburst was only met with a shrug.
Leon approached Arthur and Merlin, the latter looking sheepishly at him before back down at the floor, although the former did not bear the appearance of someone just caught red-handed.
“Where were you going?” Leon asked.
“Just to the kitchens, I was feeling peckish,” Arthur supplied easily.
Leon glanced at Merlin who kept his gaze firmly on the floor. “Well, then,” he said after a pause, “I will accompany you.”
“You need not trouble yourself, Leon,” Arthur replied, all false politeness.
“It is, of course, no trouble at all, sire,” he returned, with the same insincerity.
“Very well.” Arthur turned and led the way to the kitchens, with Merlin in-step and Leon right behind them, and it was easy enough not to let his annoyance show. He hadn’t been about to go anywhere particularly interesting anyway, he just wanted to have some time where he was not constantly watched, which was something that never happened as darned Leon was always on his tail. But Arthur knew he would, and did, forget about it in a few moments, until the next time Leon foiled one of his plans and so continued to their new destination.
It was one of the benefits of the enchantment - one of the few - that he could not remain in a mood for long. Not that Arthur himself really thought of it as a particular benefit - he could not, when he did not know another way to feel. He had seen other people feel things he had heard described as anger, or fear, or sadness, but he had never experienced these and could not understand why people did not simply feel jolly again instead.
“Ahem. Prince Arthur,” Leon sounded from behind him.
Arthur stopped his stride, realising instantly why Leon had called out to him. “That’s not necessary, Leon,” he said quickly. “It is only a short distance.”
“It is breezy today, my lord, therefore your parents deem it necessary.”
Arthur glanced at Merlin in the hope that he could provide some help in the argument, but Merlin simply shuffled his feet and shrugged again. He really was completely useless sometimes.
With an overdramatic sigh - one Leon thought Arthur now delivered to perfection, after practising it for so many years - Arthur stuck out his arm.
“Thank you, sire,” Leon said, before pulling out the length of string he carried and tying one end around Arthur’s wrist. “You may proceed,” he stated when he had finished, and the other end was wrapped securely around his palm.
“Thank you, Leon,” Arthur replied sourly, and then continued his walk, now down the corridor, one of the few areas of the castle with an open balcony, and the ability to spirit Arthur away should the wind get too strong.
In the kitchen Marie looked up from clearing her mistress’ breakfast tray and smiled at the arrival of the three men, all wearing very different expressions, but each radiating their irritation in waves.
“Good morning,” Arthur greeted her, in addition to Cook and the king’s manservant who were both present on the far side of the room.
They returned the greeting with a bow. “May I help you Prince Arthur?” Marie inquired.
“I wondered if you have anything to eat.”
From his place by the sink, the manservant Brian grumbled into his dirty dishes as Cook rolled her eyes, but Marie dutifully replied, “Of course,” and left her tray to fetch some food. “Does my lord have any preference?”
“Hmmm…how do you feel about some cheese, Leon?”
“None for me, thank you. I already had my breakfast.”
“Just some bread for me then, I think,” Arthur supplied.
She wrapped some up carefully in paper and presented the food to him. “I hope it will be enough for you until your next meal, sire.”
“I’m sure it will be,” he replied with a smile.
Arthur turned to leave, Leon turning at the same time to keep hold of the string still on his arm. Before the last of them could leave, however, Marie pressed another small parcel of bread, into Merlin’s palm. He accepted it with a wide smile and quickly tucked it into the side of his shirt.
He left the kitchen and was shutting the door behind himself, just in time to hear but not see Sir Leon’s cry of “Sire, be careful w-”
At that moment Merlin felt a gust of wind blow against his back, so he did not need to ask what the problem was. He turned to face them and saw Sir Leon leaning over the balcony, looking on regretfully as Arthur floated far in front of them, outside the castle and over the grounds. Although the string had extended to its full length, it was still in place on his arm, so as Merlin moved to stand beside him Leon began to pull it, and therefore Arthur, back.
His actions were slow and steady, careful not to tear the string or cause it to come loose from Arthur’s arm or his own hands. However, Arthur was not assisting matters by removing the paper from his bread, not minding where it fell to the ground far below him, and beginning to eat it.
“Prince Arthur, would you mind not using the arm the string is attached to until you are safe, please?” Leon requested.
“Very well,” he said, and held the bread in only his other hand, continuing eating. “Oooh, Merlin, you should see this!” he exclaimed, looking to his left. “I can see through into Lady Sarah’s chambers from here!”
Merlin choked on his own breath at the same time Leon nearly dropped the string in response to Arthur’s statement. “Sire!” Leon exclaimed, in horror at such an improper suggestion.
“There is no need for that, Leon. I was only going to say her hair looks ghastly when it is not done up.”
“Of course, my lord,” Leon replied, as he continued pulling Arthur back to the balcony.
“Marie actually told me that Lady Sarah -” At Leon’s pointed look, Merlin quickly stopped. “Never mind.”
“What is taking so long?” Arthur whined, before taking another bite of the bread.
“I do not want to lose hold of the string, sire. Besides, I thought I had heard you say many times that you rather enjoyed these little…adventures.”
Arthur grinned widely at that. “I do actually. But, I am bored now.”
“I am very sorry you are bored, my lord,” Leon said evenly.
Arthur shrugged as he chewed. “This could be a lot quicker if you could actually do magic, Merlin.”
Leon inwardly groaned. He heard this argument far too often for his peace of mind.
“I can too do magic!”
“Smoke horses aren’t real magic, Merlin. At best, it will enable you to entertain children temporarily. - If you tire of being a servant, perhaps you could become a nurse,” Arthur thought, and laughed so heartily at this he did not realise when Leon had brought him back to hover over the castle floor, until he pulled down on his arm.
“Well. Now you are back let’s get you somewhere more safe.”
Arthur would have protested, but Leon quickly dragged him as gently as it was possible to drag a future sovereign across the floor and into the hallway, while Merlin trailed behind them with a glum look on his face. His protest was then forgot when they heard pounding footsteps on the landing.
“Arthur!” the king’s voice bellowed.
“Yes, father?”
“What are you doing in this part of the castle?”
“Nothing.”
By this time, Uther was now standing before them, and if Leon and Merlin had found his tone terrifying before, his face was even more chilling. “Have I not been rightly informed in being told that you were only just seen floating over the courtyard?”
“Yes, you were. But Leon pulled me straight back.”
“That is no matter! What were you doing coming down this way, when you know it is windy today?”
“I was hungry,” he said easily, and finished off his bread.
“Hungry?” Uther repeated, Leon and Merlin silently stepping back as they watched the vein in their king’s forehead bulge. “You were hungry?” he bit the words out.
Arthur merely nodded, smile still on his face as he swallowed.
“How can you be so…ridiculous, Arthur! All this floating - nonsense! You should be more careful!”
“Nothing happened. Honestly, father, there is no need to get so…” Arthur waved his hand about, trying to find the words for his father’s current state. Descriptions like “serious” or “angry” did not come easily to his lips, as they were so far from his own person.
“Yes, there is need - there is need because you clearly cannot think for yourself. It is one thing to have a son who cannot think seriously, but surely by now Arthur, you can have at the very least learnt to be careful! - And at twenty years old!”
“So?”
“You are nearly of age! Don’t you see!” he exclaimed. But one look at his son’s eyes showed he most clearly did not see, and Uther found he had grown tired of explaining. He exhaled slowly and looked away before saying, a bit more calmly. “Come with me.”
“Now?” Arthur pouted.
“Yes, now, Arthur,” he snapped, “Your mother heard as well, she is worried.”
Arthur sighed, only a little dramatically this time, but moved to follow his father; that is, until the string still attached to his arm and Leon’s hand caused him to stop short just as Arthur and Uther were at the top of the stairs.
Arthur was unfazed by this, and lifted his other hand to remove it, but before he could Uther pulled at it fiercely so it snapped, and dropped into unceremoniously to the ground with something akin to a growl. He stormed down the stairs, leaving Arthur to go behind him, slightly bewildered at his father’s behaviour.
Still in their places at the other end of the hallway, Merlin looked sideways at a silent Leon, who met his gaze a little unsteadily.
Merlin offered him what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he reached into his pocket and lifted a neatly wrapped item. “Bread?”
Part Three
Part Two
As Arthur grew older, the people of Camelot developed a routine. To say that everyone had become used to the prince’s unusual condition would be something of an exaggeration - the sight of a small child suddenly floating past, as happened on more careless occasions, was always surprising, no matter how well aware the people were of the possibility - but they had all developed their own ways of handling the matter.
The king did so by making sure every possible situation the prince could fall into was prepared for and precautions were taken against it, a decision which included temporarily hiring someone whose sole responsibility was to think about the potential scrapes Arthur could get into and never allowing the boy outside of the castle grounds.
Uther’s over protectiveness was matched only by Ygraine’s. She had expected to participate less in her queenly duties and spend more time with her son in the first few years of Arthur’s birth; she had not expected to be constantly in need of a ladder and running after a floating child. Thus, whereas she had previously been the voice of reason in her marriage, and the one Uther’s advisors looked to when they could not make him see what they thought sense, she now supported nearly all of even the most far-fetched of her husband’s ideas in order to prevent Arthur from falling - or, as was more likely to be the case, flying - into harm’s way.
The nobles dealt with the problem by never speaking of the prince’s predicament out loud. Even amongst themselves without the presence of the king and queen, it was considered too delicate a matter to discuss in polite society.
The people living in the town were unconcerned with the opinion of polite society, and spoke about it regularly. Unless something particularly shocking had occurred, such as two young lovers running away together, any tales relating to the prince were the highlight of the day’s gossip, especially if his little head was spotted floating higher than the castle walls.
The castle servants, however, enjoyed the whole situation very much. Prince Arthur was possibly the most loved child in any castle in all of Albion, and that had nothing to do with his temperament, which although continuously pleasant, was not particularly given to kindness or an ability to see his servants as anything more than people who existed for his own amusement. No, the reason he was so loved was because his condition meant the servants could play with him, and not have any fear of injuring their future ruler: losing him if they left the window open on a blustery day, yes, but not hurting him.
So, by the time Arthur was ten years old, everyone had become set in their ways, and none more so than Arthur himself. One might have wondered how it was that despite all the efforts of the king, young Arthur managed to continually find himself so high above ground, but a short attempt at conversation with the boy would easily provide the answer. The effect of lightness on his spirit was just as strong, if not stronger, as its effect on his body, and Arthur was unable to take anything seriously; not even his own condition and the hazardous consequences it could have. If his parents had made more of an effort to be firm with him, perhaps they might have been able to ground his character slightly, but the truth was that Arthur was spoiled. Ygraine was well aware this was her and Uther’s doing, but even when it led to sticky situations she could not completely regret their past actions. In Arthur’s first few years it had seemed as if every day revealed a new source of potential danger and yet another thing he would not be allowed to do, so how could she help herself from granting her only child his every other request?
This temperament was exacerbated by the fact that the prince was surrounded almost entirely by people so much older than him, all of whom constantly saw him as the future heir to Camelot, and treated him as such; and the blame for this fell mainly on his parents too. Despite his pleasantness, his overly careless temper and lack of consideration for others meant he had little about his person to recommend himself to anyone as a friend, but even the most vile or annoying of ten year old boys will have plenty of children eager to be his friend if he is a prince. However, the many rules his parents had set meant Arthur had not had the opportunity to meet more than two people his own age. The first was Morgana, who visited the castle regularly with her father, but she found Arthur much too silly and irritating to pay much attention to on her trips - unless he got himself into trouble and stuck in the air, in which case she found him most amusing. The second was a young boy by the name of Merlin, the ward of Gaius and a servant in training, and an unlikely sort of friendship existed between the two.
At first, Arthur had only been pleased to find someone smaller than himself, on whom he could impress his own sense of importance and pick on, and Merlin had felt obliged to let him because of his station, but over time the pair had formed a strange bond. It may have helped that Merlin had an unusual problem of his own: that he had been born with magical powers.
Uther had become even stricter with regards to the practising of magic in Camelot following Nimueh’s actions at Arthur’s christening, but it was still technically allowed; although most who still did practise it did their best to keep it quiet. When Gaius’ old friend Hunith had died, his sadness at her passing had soon given way to uncertainty in the light of her leaving her now-orphaned son Merlin to his care. He may have aided with the care of Arthur, but he felt that caring for a three year old boy by himself was a little dissimilar, particularly when he brought Merlin back to the castle and discovered when trying to wash him that the boy’s fingers emitted sparks.
He had fretted, but soon realised the only thing to do was to tell Uther straight away that Merlin was magical, making clear that he would do his best to curb the direction of the boy’s powers. It soon turned out that Gaius had little to fear. Although Uther was initially stern, observation of the boy proved he was unable to use his powers to do little other than shape smoke and create short streams of bright sparks, and so his presence at the castle was permitted, with certain conditions and the promise that he would be informed at once should Merlin grow more powerful. This was only a temporary relief to Gaius, although it turned out it was not something he ever had to worry about, for Merlin’s powers did not develop. Even when Gaius dug out his old books to try to teach Merlin about magic, purely in the interest of knowledge and possibly refining the gifts, of course, he was not up to the task.
So, when Merlin was not busy helping the stable master or Gaius with their duties, the two boys could be found spending the afternoon together; during which Merlin usually tried but failed to perform a spell and Arthur laughed at him, until he moved the wrong way, got caught in the air and began to float and Merlin laughed at him, until the prince was fetched back down.
*
“What’s the matter with you today?”
Morgana glanced sideways at her father who was riding next to her. “Nothing.”
“You don’t look very pleased,” he pointed out as their horses took them closer to the castle gates.
“I just don’t see why we have to come to Camelot all the time.”
“I thought you liked it here.”
“I guess,” she supposed, “but I’d rather be in the mountains. When are we going back?”
“Soon, Morgana,” he reassured her. “But in the meantime I’m sure we’ll have a nice visit. Don’t you want to see Uther, Ygraine and Arthur again?”
Gorlois discovered that was the wrong thing to say when she made a disgusted face. “No!”
“No?”
“Well, I’d like to see King Uther and Queen Ygraine, but I don’t care about seeing Arthur,” she said, with a little sharpness in her voice.
Gorlois frowned. He knew Morgana and Arthur didn’t get on particularly well, and whenever Arthur and that friend of his were told to include Morgana in their games they seemed to just played tricks on each other, but he hadn’t thought there had been anything significantly worse than the usual things children got up to, especially as they were usually supervised by one of the servants just in case Arthur got carried away. “Morgana, is there something you wish to tell me?”
“No.” After a pause she added, “Is there something you wish to tell me?”
He couldn’t help but smile inwardly at that (she really did remind him of himself sometimes) but kept his best expression of fatherly concern on. “What do you mean?”
Morgana sighed, but finally admitted, “It is just something that Vivian said.”
“What was it?” Gorlois wondered. They had needed to break up their journey to Camelot, and Gorlois had been given a place to stay in King Olaf’s court before. That had been some time ago, but he had hoped that Uther’s good relationship with Olaf and the good name of Le Fay would be enough to give him and Morgana shelter. A bed for the night had turned into two nights; Olaf had been so hospitable he hadn’t been able to refuse, and it was surely good for Morgana to be able to spend some time with another girl her own age when she did not have any company other than his own, except for when they were in Camelot. The young Lady Vivian had seemed like a nice enough twelve year old, and he was unsure what she could have said to vex Morgana.
“Vivian said I am meant to marry Arthur!” she said, with a pout gracing her features. “But you never told me that!”
“Well, I never told you that because it is not true.” And it wasn’t. Yes, there may have been a time when he and Uther had considered the possibility of their children marrying, but they had never talked about it properly, and that had been before either of them had had any. Perhaps he was biased but, as much as he cared for Arthur in the way anyone would their best friend’s child, and found the boy pleasant at the best of times, Gorlois thought his daughter could do better. Marrying Arthur may make her a Queen in the future, but he was not keen on the idea of his Morgana having to spend her life running after a floating King. “You do not have to marry Arthur.”
“Oh. Well, good,” she said, just as the drawbridge was lowered and they crossed into the courtyard, where Uther and Ygraine were waiting, their son standing between them. Ygraine’s hand rested on his shoulder and to one unaware of the boy’s situation it may have looked like a simple familial gesture, but as Gorlois was well versed in his condition he saw it for what it was: a necessary action to keep the prince from flying off the ground.
Gorlois watched as his daughter greeted the king and queen of Camelot with a smile and curtsey, but noticed as he embraced Uther that she sent Arthur a not-so-thinly veiled sneer. When Ygraine stepped forward to hug Gorlois, he pretended not to notice the prince’s slight rise in height before Uther clapped down on his shoulder and quickly pushed him back to the ground. Morgana looked as though she was about to giggle, but one glare from her father set her expression straight once more.
As soon as the usual pleasantries regarding their journey were shared, Uther suggested, “Shall we go inside?”
Gorlois dutifully nodded his assent, pleased to note that although he could see more grey in Uther’s thinning hair, and an increase in frown lines, his friend seemed little changed outside of his appearance. As much as keeping Arthur inside would have been the more sensible thing to do, guests of the king were always to be greeted by the whole family in the courtyard, and Uther clearly would not let something like a little lightness prevent certain traditions from being upheld.
When the children were dismissed from the company of their parents, neither was pleased and Marie, who had been sent to look after them, had to work hard to keep a conversation up with herself in an attempt to wipe the sullen look off Morgana’s face and the pleased but bored look on Arthur’s. Even the arrival of Merlin in the playroom failed to enliven them: at least not until Merlin asked if they wanted to see the new spell he was working on.
“Oh, no, Merlin, you had better not,” Marie instantly said, but Arthur shook his head.
“Why not?” he whined. “I want to see it.”
“You can’t do spells properly, anyway,” Morgana stated.
“I can!” he countered, the small boy’s long face falling.
“Anything other than making shapes in smoke yet? Didn’t think so,” she added, when Merlin could not reply.
“Show us the trick then,” Arthur said in his best princely tone.
Merlin looked so deflated by Morgana’s put down that Marie couldn’t help agreeing. He was such a sweet little boy, always trying to help everyone. His presence was sometimes more of a hindrance, but he clearly had good intentions. “Go on, then, Merlin. I would very much like to see your new spell too.”
He smiled at that and raised his palms to the fireplace. Slowly a shape emerged from the grey smoke: it was straight and tall at the base, but at the top the smoke formed small clouds around it. The grey turned first into red, and then changed to a mix of brown and green, revealing it was a tree, a sight that pleased even the two more discerning members of the audience. All had seen Merlin make the shapes before, but none had ever changed colour.
Arthur clapped at the spectacle. “Can you do that for the others?”
Merlin nodded eagerly and began going through his repertoire of shapes, beginning with the horse and turning it brown. They all gave requests, for both shapes and colours and enjoyed it immensely, especially when he turned shapes the wrong colours. The sight of a blue duck, had Morgana and Arthur agreeing for the first time in their lives, that it was the funniest thing they had seen.
Soon another servant arrived to watch over Arthur, reminding both Merlin and Marie they needed to leave to attend to their chores. On their way out she noticed Morgana and Arthur turn bored again, but Merlin at least was still smiling. When they separated, her to the stables, him to the physician’s quarters, Marie gently ruffled his hair and slipped him a sugar cube out of the pocket of her apron; he certainly needed it more than the horses.
*
Morgana found she enjoyed this visit to Camelot more than some of her previous ones, perhaps largely due to the fact that she happened to spend much of it in the company of Ygraine, whom was always very nice, and seemed to enjoy Morgana’s tales about the forests and mountains she had seen, unlike Vivian who had preferred to play at being a princess. Ygraine had some very fine things, much finer than anything Vivian had, and more beautiful, but she never fussed about them or tried to make Morgana play dress up, for which she was grateful. It also helped that Arthur and Merlin didn’t try to play tricks on her anymore - they wouldn’t dare after what she did back to them on her last visit. It was very fortunate indeed that she had found that frog.
On this particular day during their visit, however, the lack of Arthur’s presence was an annoyance rather than a blessing. Morgana, Gorlois, Uther and Ygraine were all ready to dine but could not eat because Uther would not allow them to touch the food until Arthur was at the table too. And Arthur was nowhere in sight.
“I am sure he just woke up late,” Ygraine said in attempt to smooth over the sour expressions of her three companions; one because of his son’s behaviour in the presence of guests, the other two because of their stomachs.
Gorlois nodded, knowing his friend too well to let his own annoyance show. “It is fine. The delay will simply give us better appetites for when the food does arrive. Don’t you think, Morgana?”
His daughter smiled dutifully, as she mentally put a curse on Arthur.
Ygraine was just about to suggest sending one of the guards to check when the doors to the hall opened. “Ah that must be him n- Merlin!”
“My lady,” he mumbled and gave a short, uncomfortable bow as he stepped through the large doors that dwarfed his small frame, only eight years of age.
“Where is Arthur?” Uther asked.
“That is why I am here, sire. There was…a burst of wind.”
“Oh no!” Ygraine exclaimed. “Has he flown away?” she feared.
“No,” Merlin said quickly. “No, not flown far anyway. He got stuck before he could.”
“Well, stuck where, boy?” demanded Uther, immediately pushing his chair back and standing.
“In a tree.”
In a tree on the nether portion of the castle grounds, to be precise.
Merlin had most feared the king’s wrath in case of him asking how Arthur happened to be in that part of the castle without anyone else noticing - and no one was supposed to know just how often Arthur tried to sneak out of the castle so he was not always cooped up inside, even if he never managed to get past the actual grounds thanks to all the guards - but Uther was so busy trying to organise a rescue that the question of where dwarfed that of why, and flew right out of his head when he saw the manner in which his son had managed to strand himself in the air. It was fortunate for Arthur that he was enchanted, for had anyone else found themselves that high up in the air and almost entirely upside down, with only one foot curled around a tree branch to hold them in place, they would certainly have feared the descent below. As it was, Arthur was merely amused by how small everyone looked as they ran about, and found the strange sensation in his head rather enjoyable.
Watching all the commotion unfold, as people ran left, right and centre to think of what to do, Morgana lifted the train of her dress and ran up to her father, who had deliberately placed himself halfway between Ygraine’s location by the tree and Uther’s pacing about the courtyard so that he was in the best position to be helpful to either of them, should they need him to be. “Father, tell King Uther I can help!”
“Morgana,” he hushed. “Don’t be silly, you must just stay here with me.”
“But, father, I can climb a tree, you know I can.”
“Yes, Morgana, but you need not do so now.”
“But I don’t think anyone else can! Otherwise they would have done that already, wouldn’t they?”
“It is a very tall tree, it is quite dangerous.”
“But they should at least try, shouldn’t they?”
Gorlois sighed. “Do you remember what I told you about how some things are not done in society?”
“Even at a time like this?”
“Especially at a time like this, when everyone is looking.” Morgana looked slightly troubled by this, so Gorlois sought to explain to his daughter more clearly, and continued in hushed tones, “If it is truly a matter of life and death, you are of course allowed to climb a tree in public, but this is not such a matter.”
“So they are certain that it is impossible for Arthur to fall?”
“I’m afraid so, my dear.”
“So…he can’t die if they don’t get him down? He’ll just stay there and…look silly?”
“I’m afraid so,” Gorlois repeated.
“Oh.” Morgana smiled.
The knights had been training when they were alerted to the mishap, and three went straight to fetch the “baby ladder”; a misnomer, for it was taller than four grown men, but whenever Arthur had gotten into a scrape as a child and it had been needed, cries of “the baby’s ladder!” had been heard throughout the castle, and the name had stuck. However, when the other knights approached the tree in question, they noticed that the tree was too tall for even the ladder to reach where Arthur was.
This realisation brought in a whole new level of alarm.
However, as Arthur hung half-upside down in the air, only slightly aware of the growing discomfort of the sensation of blood rushing down to his brain - not that he knew that was what it was - one young man in the courtyard had the good sense to stop and survey the situation before rushing about to look for a solution. As he looked up at the young prince dangling from the tree, he happened to place his hands on his hips and as they rested on his belt he was suddenly struck with an idea.
He dashed to the stables in search of something he’d noticed there before training had begun and luckily found the object straight away. Picking it up, he noticed it was not particularly heavy, but it was long and seemed strong, which was the important part. With it in his hands, he ran back, all the way to the tree.
On one side now stood the ladder, not high enough to reach Prince Arthur, and the king and three knights stood by it, discussing how best to raise it in such a way that it would not lose balance. On the other stood the queen, still giving regular cries of encouragement to her son.
The young man was loathe to ask either of them to move - he could not yet presume to ask a knight, let alone a monarch, to give way to him - but he felt the importance of the situation outweighed his sense of propriety. He approached the queen and said, most sincerely, “Please excuse me, your majesty.”
Ygraine did not recognise the young man in front of her, but he seemed so purposeful in that moment that she backed away slightly to give him some room. It was then that she noticed he held a length of rope in his hands, and on one end, a small circle tied on one end with a knot. She did not see how he would get the rope to extend so high up, but she watched as he unfurled the length of the rope and walked backwards with it, charting a path. He then stopped, and pulled the rope back to him and angled himself in such a way before he threw it that, with the help of the breeze, he managed to make the rope extend as high up as Arthur - but only just.
The end of the rope had landed on the branch just below that which held Arthur’s foot, around where Arthur’s head dangled, and it teetered precariously.
“Prince Arthur! Can you reach?” he cried out.
The prince moved his arm forward and managed to grab hold of it before the end slipped off the branch.
“Hold tight!”
At that, he gave a tug and the prince came loose from the tree, although he stayed floating, upside down, like a kite on a string as he bobbed slightly in the light wind.
Sighs of relief and eventually applause came from the crowd as Arthur was gently lowered closer to the ground. Ygraine was nearest, and she pulled Arthur into a standing position before tugging him to her arms. The boy had a lot of colour in his face, but otherwise seemed perfectly unharmed as he accepted his mother’s hug.
The young man smiled at the sight, as he quickly gathered the rope into his arms, pleased his idea had been successful. He turned, intent on returning it, but had only taken a few steps into the throng of people when he was stopped by the sound of a loud, booming voice.
“You there! It was you? The one who pulled the prince down with the string?”
The people around him, mainly castle staff and a few from the market who had wondered into the grounds to see what was the source of the commotion, all moved their gaze from the young prince to him, as he turned back to face the owner of the voice, who was surprisingly close to him. He trembled, never having been so close to the king before, and briefly wondered if it was considered an offence to handle the prince in such a way. “It was more like rope, sire,” he offered.
“I do not recognise you,” Uther stated. “You are not a knight?”
“No, not yet, sire. I am only training.”
“I see. Well, I would like to extend my thanks to you, young man. You will be well rewarded for the services you have done. May I know who I am thanking?”
The man looked blankly at him, still a little dumbstruck at being spoken to by none other than the king.
“Your name, boy?” Uther prompted.
He soon remembered himself. “My name is Leon, sire.”
*
Leon, henceforth Sir Leon as his reward for saving Prince Arthur, found his first few days of knighthood almost everything he had ever dreamed it would be. He was not required in that time to defend his kingdom from any grave attacks, but in every other respect the duties of a knight had more than lived up to expectations. He had not quite realised all the advantages being a knight would bestow, and as a young man, only just turned eighteen, he greatly appreciated all the smiles his new title brought from pretty ladies, noble and peasant alike. (In fact, his title had brought more than just smiles from some ladies, but he did not think it was at all knightly to take up some of those offers.) He had feared his sudden knighthood might have ruffled a few feathers, but Leon was pleased that it did not seem to be held against him, neither by those he worked alongside, or those now below him, with much training to go before they could receive the same post.
Shortly after his knighthood, however, Leon was harshly awoken to the realities of his new position. Although now a knight, it appeared his new role was to have less to do with being a protector of Camelot, and more to do with being the protector of its crown prince.
Uther had been considering appointing Arthur a personal protector for some time. Ygraine had not been very keen on the idea, thinking it would impinge on Arthur’s freedoms even more than they already did, but the years had proved Arthur could simply not be careful and he would need someone constantly with him until he did. It seemed to Uther that it would be far better for there to be one person with that main responsibility, who could solely focus on Arthur’s safety, rather than sharing the task among everyone. That evidently left room for mistakes, which could no longer be allowed to happen. Leon had already proven himself to be quick thinking and had received nothing but praise from the other knights, and Uther congratulated himself on the decision.
To be granted such a position was an honour, a fact Leon was well aware of. Still, running after a ten year old boy, with a length of string tucked in his belt next to his sword, did not feel particularly honourable.
Running after a twenty year old man felt even less so.
Yet, at the age of twenty eight that was the situation Sir Leon found himself in, on an unfortunately frequent basis.
“Prince Arthur! Prince Arthur!”
From the other end of the hallway a groan sounded. “I told you we should have gone the other way,” a voice hissed, but the outburst was only met with a shrug.
Leon approached Arthur and Merlin, the latter looking sheepishly at him before back down at the floor, although the former did not bear the appearance of someone just caught red-handed.
“Where were you going?” Leon asked.
“Just to the kitchens, I was feeling peckish,” Arthur supplied easily.
Leon glanced at Merlin who kept his gaze firmly on the floor. “Well, then,” he said after a pause, “I will accompany you.”
“You need not trouble yourself, Leon,” Arthur replied, all false politeness.
“It is, of course, no trouble at all, sire,” he returned, with the same insincerity.
“Very well.” Arthur turned and led the way to the kitchens, with Merlin in-step and Leon right behind them, and it was easy enough not to let his annoyance show. He hadn’t been about to go anywhere particularly interesting anyway, he just wanted to have some time where he was not constantly watched, which was something that never happened as darned Leon was always on his tail. But Arthur knew he would, and did, forget about it in a few moments, until the next time Leon foiled one of his plans and so continued to their new destination.
It was one of the benefits of the enchantment - one of the few - that he could not remain in a mood for long. Not that Arthur himself really thought of it as a particular benefit - he could not, when he did not know another way to feel. He had seen other people feel things he had heard described as anger, or fear, or sadness, but he had never experienced these and could not understand why people did not simply feel jolly again instead.
“Ahem. Prince Arthur,” Leon sounded from behind him.
Arthur stopped his stride, realising instantly why Leon had called out to him. “That’s not necessary, Leon,” he said quickly. “It is only a short distance.”
“It is breezy today, my lord, therefore your parents deem it necessary.”
Arthur glanced at Merlin in the hope that he could provide some help in the argument, but Merlin simply shuffled his feet and shrugged again. He really was completely useless sometimes.
With an overdramatic sigh - one Leon thought Arthur now delivered to perfection, after practising it for so many years - Arthur stuck out his arm.
“Thank you, sire,” Leon said, before pulling out the length of string he carried and tying one end around Arthur’s wrist. “You may proceed,” he stated when he had finished, and the other end was wrapped securely around his palm.
“Thank you, Leon,” Arthur replied sourly, and then continued his walk, now down the corridor, one of the few areas of the castle with an open balcony, and the ability to spirit Arthur away should the wind get too strong.
In the kitchen Marie looked up from clearing her mistress’ breakfast tray and smiled at the arrival of the three men, all wearing very different expressions, but each radiating their irritation in waves.
“Good morning,” Arthur greeted her, in addition to Cook and the king’s manservant who were both present on the far side of the room.
They returned the greeting with a bow. “May I help you Prince Arthur?” Marie inquired.
“I wondered if you have anything to eat.”
From his place by the sink, the manservant Brian grumbled into his dirty dishes as Cook rolled her eyes, but Marie dutifully replied, “Of course,” and left her tray to fetch some food. “Does my lord have any preference?”
“Hmmm…how do you feel about some cheese, Leon?”
“None for me, thank you. I already had my breakfast.”
“Just some bread for me then, I think,” Arthur supplied.
She wrapped some up carefully in paper and presented the food to him. “I hope it will be enough for you until your next meal, sire.”
“I’m sure it will be,” he replied with a smile.
Arthur turned to leave, Leon turning at the same time to keep hold of the string still on his arm. Before the last of them could leave, however, Marie pressed another small parcel of bread, into Merlin’s palm. He accepted it with a wide smile and quickly tucked it into the side of his shirt.
He left the kitchen and was shutting the door behind himself, just in time to hear but not see Sir Leon’s cry of “Sire, be careful w-”
At that moment Merlin felt a gust of wind blow against his back, so he did not need to ask what the problem was. He turned to face them and saw Sir Leon leaning over the balcony, looking on regretfully as Arthur floated far in front of them, outside the castle and over the grounds. Although the string had extended to its full length, it was still in place on his arm, so as Merlin moved to stand beside him Leon began to pull it, and therefore Arthur, back.
His actions were slow and steady, careful not to tear the string or cause it to come loose from Arthur’s arm or his own hands. However, Arthur was not assisting matters by removing the paper from his bread, not minding where it fell to the ground far below him, and beginning to eat it.
“Prince Arthur, would you mind not using the arm the string is attached to until you are safe, please?” Leon requested.
“Very well,” he said, and held the bread in only his other hand, continuing eating. “Oooh, Merlin, you should see this!” he exclaimed, looking to his left. “I can see through into Lady Sarah’s chambers from here!”
Merlin choked on his own breath at the same time Leon nearly dropped the string in response to Arthur’s statement. “Sire!” Leon exclaimed, in horror at such an improper suggestion.
“There is no need for that, Leon. I was only going to say her hair looks ghastly when it is not done up.”
“Of course, my lord,” Leon replied, as he continued pulling Arthur back to the balcony.
“Marie actually told me that Lady Sarah -” At Leon’s pointed look, Merlin quickly stopped. “Never mind.”
“What is taking so long?” Arthur whined, before taking another bite of the bread.
“I do not want to lose hold of the string, sire. Besides, I thought I had heard you say many times that you rather enjoyed these little…adventures.”
Arthur grinned widely at that. “I do actually. But, I am bored now.”
“I am very sorry you are bored, my lord,” Leon said evenly.
Arthur shrugged as he chewed. “This could be a lot quicker if you could actually do magic, Merlin.”
Leon inwardly groaned. He heard this argument far too often for his peace of mind.
“I can too do magic!”
“Smoke horses aren’t real magic, Merlin. At best, it will enable you to entertain children temporarily. - If you tire of being a servant, perhaps you could become a nurse,” Arthur thought, and laughed so heartily at this he did not realise when Leon had brought him back to hover over the castle floor, until he pulled down on his arm.
“Well. Now you are back let’s get you somewhere more safe.”
Arthur would have protested, but Leon quickly dragged him as gently as it was possible to drag a future sovereign across the floor and into the hallway, while Merlin trailed behind them with a glum look on his face. His protest was then forgot when they heard pounding footsteps on the landing.
“Arthur!” the king’s voice bellowed.
“Yes, father?”
“What are you doing in this part of the castle?”
“Nothing.”
By this time, Uther was now standing before them, and if Leon and Merlin had found his tone terrifying before, his face was even more chilling. “Have I not been rightly informed in being told that you were only just seen floating over the courtyard?”
“Yes, you were. But Leon pulled me straight back.”
“That is no matter! What were you doing coming down this way, when you know it is windy today?”
“I was hungry,” he said easily, and finished off his bread.
“Hungry?” Uther repeated, Leon and Merlin silently stepping back as they watched the vein in their king’s forehead bulge. “You were hungry?” he bit the words out.
Arthur merely nodded, smile still on his face as he swallowed.
“How can you be so…ridiculous, Arthur! All this floating - nonsense! You should be more careful!”
“Nothing happened. Honestly, father, there is no need to get so…” Arthur waved his hand about, trying to find the words for his father’s current state. Descriptions like “serious” or “angry” did not come easily to his lips, as they were so far from his own person.
“Yes, there is need - there is need because you clearly cannot think for yourself. It is one thing to have a son who cannot think seriously, but surely by now Arthur, you can have at the very least learnt to be careful! - And at twenty years old!”
“So?”
“You are nearly of age! Don’t you see!” he exclaimed. But one look at his son’s eyes showed he most clearly did not see, and Uther found he had grown tired of explaining. He exhaled slowly and looked away before saying, a bit more calmly. “Come with me.”
“Now?” Arthur pouted.
“Yes, now, Arthur,” he snapped, “Your mother heard as well, she is worried.”
Arthur sighed, only a little dramatically this time, but moved to follow his father; that is, until the string still attached to his arm and Leon’s hand caused him to stop short just as Arthur and Uther were at the top of the stairs.
Arthur was unfazed by this, and lifted his other hand to remove it, but before he could Uther pulled at it fiercely so it snapped, and dropped into unceremoniously to the ground with something akin to a growl. He stormed down the stairs, leaving Arthur to go behind him, slightly bewildered at his father’s behaviour.
Still in their places at the other end of the hallway, Merlin looked sideways at a silent Leon, who met his gaze a little unsteadily.
Merlin offered him what he hoped was a reassuring smile as he reached into his pocket and lifted a neatly wrapped item. “Bread?”
Part Three