A red sky.
A first [and last] kiss.
Why causes a king to lie, screaming, in the middle of a forest?
*A note or two*
Arthur Pendragon had been king for a mere
three hours when his heart died.
No one yet knows the cause.
The story, I suppose, must start at the beginning.
A boy stood, drenched in rain water, watching another boy, also drenched in rain water. One walked to the other, taking what seemed live forever to close the short distance between the two. Arthur Pendragon stood, arms folded strongly over his armour-clad chest. And he watched. And he waited. He waited for a boy dressed in a pair of brown trousers and nothing more, walk up to him with a goofy smile spread across his face. Why. Arthur asked. Are you smiling? The boy gave no answer. He held his hand out, and unclenched his fist. A small piece of paper, folded neatly into a bird, lay wet and melting in the palm of his hand. And as Arthur watched, the boy collapsed to his knees, clasping his stomach and groaning loudly. Arthur watched as two guards rushed past him and lifted the boy, dragging him through the gates of Camelot and, as they moved, Arthur watched as a small, white bird floated to the ground. He stepped forward and lifted it, hurriedly shoving it into his pocket so the rain could harm it no more.
Needless to say, by the time Arthur had lifted the bird from his pocket, it lived no more. It came out in three pieces; split evenly into head, middle and tail. And Arthur dropped it from his hand and watched as it floated to the ground for the second time [but, I should mention, not the last], and he sat on the edge of his bed, watching at it lay still and silent. Not moving an inch.
*Three things that happened that night*
1. A boy left his village, seeking out the
Stranger that would soon become a home.
2. A boy fell asleep, hypnotised by the sound of
rain hitting wood.
3. A child lay, silent and dying, breathing his last
breath in the cellars of a castle.
Arthur awoke just after 6am. Birds chirruped loudly, and the rain fell no more. Arthur stood up, throwing the covers to the bottom of the bed as if they were meaningless trash. He made his way to the window, pausing for a moment before throwing it open. Arthur stood still, breathing in the smells of a waking town. The view from his bedroom was magnificent, to say the least. Arthur could see far beyond the forests, to the valleys and the mountains beyond, though he would much rather watch the people below as they made their way to market, as they set up their stalls and set out the treasures that they had to sell. Just the way his town moved and swayed in the early morning breeze caused a river of excitement to run through his body, and as he turned and rushed to his bedroom door, the sound of paper being stood on caused him to skid to an all-too-sudden halt. Arthur turned and looked to the floor, the sudden memories of the night before returning to him. He bent down and picked up the three pieces of paper, wrinkled by the rain water, studying them with care as he turned them over in his palm.
He got to his feet and pulled open the top drawer in the cabinet that stood next to him, lifting a roll of string from the top of a pile of books and shutting it again. Perched on the edge of his bed, it took Arthur four tried before the bird looked almost complete again.
Five pieces of string and a steady hand
Was all it took for a seven year
old prince to bring a bird back to life.
He tied a loop in the top of the last piece of string and hooked it around his middle finger. Lifting his hand, Arthur smiled as the bird swayed from side to side in the breeze of the open window, its wings spread majestically.
The dining hall seemed old and ghost-like in the amber light of the morning. Arthur walked up to his father and grinned, awaiting the ritual kiss on the forehead and the ruffling of hair. When none came, Arthur's eyebrows knitted together. Daddy? Is everything alright?
Of course, my son. Everything's fine.
The words were followed by a painted-on smile, and Arthur turned and slowly walked to his chair at the opposite end of the table. Looking up, he found his father watching him with sad eyes.
Dad?
The prince saw a slight shake of his father's head, and the King's face hardened. A door was opened and in came two servants, followed by the rich scent of freshly cooked meat and oven-baked bread. A platter was set down in front of Arthur, and the lid was whipped off, revealing a plate filled with the finest food in Camelot. Arthur looked down, and suddenly the smell sickened him. He looked back up at his father, who had begun shovelling down the eggs and the sausages. With suspicious eyes, Uther watched his son.
What's the matter boy? Eat!
Arthur's eyes returned to his plate, and he gingerly picked at the large slice of bread that lay on the side of his plate. Forcing a small piece into his mouth, Arthur continued to watch his father, who in turn regarded him with annoyed eyes.
Is something the matter, boy?
A shake of the head.
You seem… unwell.
Arthur shrugged his shoulders, childishly, and leaned backwards in his chair, allowing his head to rest against the back of the chair.
I feel a bit sick, is all.
He stated, clasping his hands together and resting them on his empty stomach.
Well, if you are unwell, son, you must rest. Go, off to bed.
Arthur lifted his head and stood. With a small nod, he turned and walked towards the large oak doors that lead to the hallway.
He was halfway there when he felt his eyes grow heavy, and as his world turned black, Arthur heard his father's worried voice reach his ears.