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Arthur Pendragon Windsor knew better than anyone that being the Prince of Wales, Heir to the Throne of the United Kingdom, was not an easy thing. Ever since he was small his father lectured him. "Everyone in the country will be watching us. They will want dress like us, act like us, eat like us, and be like us. It is our job to set a good example." This meant that Arthur was to be well groomed, on time, friendly, intelligent, gentlemanly, and other words that we generally think of to define a model citizen, at all times. His hobbies, servants, clothes, food, books, movies and even friends were picked for him.

When our story begins, Arthur is 21 years old and celebrating the 25th anniversary of his father's reign.

"Arthur? Arthur, are you even paying attention to a word that I'm saying?" Elizabeth whined

Arthur snapped back into reality when he heard her.

"Of course I was. You said that Ferdy's favorite color was pink? How fascinating!"

He had been wishing that he were anywhere else at that moment. Through the last 2 hours, he had heard 10 speeches about his father. The first speech wasn't so bad, but after an hour of that he was bored out of his mind. Once the speeches were over, he had been hoping to escape to sit with his friends, but his father had reserved a seat for him next to the current girl that he had in mind for him to court.

Her name was Elizabeth Harris and she was the daughter of one of the many men that his father had knighted during his reign. She had a pretty face, a handsome figure, and a small fortune, but not much else. She had been going on about her pet poodle Ferdinand for the past 10 minutes and he was just about ready to commit suicide with a desert fork. From across the table, he saw his cousin Morgan making faces at him, making fun of Elizabeth.

"What are you smiling about," Elizabeth pouted, trying to see what he was looking at, "I was just telling you about how he accidentally got his poor little foot stuck in the air vent. That's nothing to smile about."

Before he had to explain himself, he was rescued by an announcement that there would be dancing in the ballroom. Elizabeth was quickly distracted by the idea and, in the commotion of the guests collecting their things to go to the ballroom, he was able to slip away.

It wasn't too long before he found Morgan in the crowd.

"Oh, I see you've escaped from her clutches then?" Morgan laughed.

"What a nightmare," Arthur groaned, "What could have possessed father to pick this one?"

"I don't know. Maybe he has a soft spot for dog shows?" she teased.

Morgan had come to live with the royal family as a ward after her family had been killed in a tragic plane crash 10 years ago. She was almost like a sister to Arthur, and they argued like it occasionally. She was a pain constantly, but Arthur couldn't deny the fact that she was probably one of his closest friends.

As the music began, Arthur turned to Morgan.

"Dance with me?" he asked in a very stuffy voice.

"Well of course, Artie. Who else?" She taunted, using the childhood name that he had always hated.


After several dances with Morgan, Elizabeth, and several other young women, most of whom he had forgotten the names of already, Arthur stood by the side of the dancing and sipped some punch.

"Arthur. I see you've been enjoying the company of the young lady I picked out for you."

Arthur turned to see his father sipping some wine.

"I guess you could say that father," he sighed. "But you really don't expect me to marry a girl like her do you?"

His father frowned sternly at him. "And what's wrong with her?"

"Not this again father-" Arthur started.

His father cut him off. "I see nothing wrong with her, or any of the other girls that I have wanted you to think about courting. They come from respectable families, and are all very pretty. I don't see your problem with any of them."

"It's that they're all so stupid." Arthur fumed. "There are only so many little dogs that I can hear about before I hang myself with a leash."

"Arthur that is a totally inappropriate way to talk. What would they say if they could hear you? You know, your mother from the same background as these ladies. Beautiful, wealthy, and of very good breeding. I'm sure that she would find them charming."

Arthur's mother had died giving birth to him, so he never knew her, but he was sure that she wasn't as dimwitted as some of the girls that he had met in the past.

Before they could argue any more a Duke of somewhere or another came to congratulate Arthur's father and Arthur took this chance to try to escape the party. He made his way swiftly toward the servant's entryway. He had almost made it when suddenly he heard a voice.

"Arthur? Where are you going?"

Arthur quickly spun around with an excuse already forming in his mind when he saw Morgan holding a glass of Champaign.

"Oh, thank heaven. Morgan it's just you." Arthur said, letting out the breath that he didn't know that he was holding in.

"Yes. Now where are you going?" She asked again looking slightly amused.

"I'm trying to make a break for it while I can." He said, looking around to make sure that no one saw him talking to her. "I've had enough of the public for one night.

"Your father will be furious." She warned. "He'll definitely have a bone to pick with you tomorrow morning."

"Vouch for me, won't you?" Arthur said, blowing this worry away as he slowly backing toward the door. "If he asks, tell him that I was feeling sick or something."

"I'll do what I can, but I make no-." Morgan started, but he was already gone.


The next morning, Arthur dressed before breakfast, looking forward to the day ahead of him. He was supposed to meet him mates for a football match at around 10 o'clock and then watch the game that evening between Arsenal and Chelsea. He went to the dining room and sat down to a plate of bacon and eggs. Morgan had eaten breakfast already that morning so that she could go out with some of her friends, so Arthur ate breakfast alone. He was about half done with his breakfast when a newspaper slapped down on the table next to him, making him jump. His father stood at the head of the table. He didn't look pleased.

"I suppose you slept well then." The king grumbled, sitting down to his breakfast. "Seeing as you were so tired that you were 'unable to stay up a moment longer' or so you had Morgan explain to me."

"I wasn't feeling too well so I decided I had better retire for the—"

Arthur's father interrupted him. "I don't want any of your excuses. You are the Prince of Wales. You will become King once I die, and you can't even stay awake for your father's own celebration? What kind of picture do you think that this gives the people? Do you think that they want a lazy King who is unable to be polite to his guests?"

"Father," Arthur began calmly, "I'm sure that they don't think that I'm lazy after I go to bed early. I'm sure that they understand how tiring entertaining is."

"You know just as well as I do that you were not tired." The King accused, his voice rising. "When will you learn that the Royal family cannot just leave a party because they're bored? Especially not a party for an occasion as important as my 25th anniversary."

"Father—"

"I am the King. Do not argue with me. You have much to learn before you will be ready to take the throne. I would have thought by now that after all of the hard work that I have put in, taking care of your upbringing, you have learned nothing." His father lectured.

"I do not need your approval on my life, father. I am an adult. I can choose the way that I act in public on my own." Arthur argued. "You care only for how you are seen by the public. You care nothing for your son, only that I make you look good. Some days, I wish that I were not the Prince of Wales and that I was merely a normal person. Who would care what Arthur the shoe clerk wore or what Arthur the Lawyer thought?"

"Arthur, we cannot choose the life that we are given. Only how we live it. I am your father and until you have learned how to behave on your own, you will do as I say."

"Father, I—"

"Enough!" His father boomed. "My word is final. And because you seem to need more instruction on the way that a King should behave, today you will accompany me to the meeting of Parliament."

Before his father could say anything else, Arthur stormed out of the room. He had had enough of his father. All the man cared about was his public appearance. He never listened when Arthur talked to him. He had even pulled the 'I'm the King' trump card that Arthur hated. All he ever did was try to prepare Arthur to be the King. Well, maybe he didn't want to be the King.

Arthur stopped dead in his tracks as he made it to his room. Once the thought had left his mind, it started growing. Maybe he didn't have to be the King? What if he just decided to pack up and leave? Start a new life for himself and be Arthur the shoe clerk or Arthur the Lawyer?

As this thought grew in his head, he began to pace his room. He liked this idea. Before he had a second thought, Arthur pulled out his most plain, everyday clothing out of his drawers and shoved them into a back pack. He pulled on his sneakers and without even saying goodbye or leaving a note, left the home that he had lived in all his life.