Follow you with my life.
A/N: I hope you enjoy this, I've been told my chapters are too short, so I hope this is better : ) Er any feedback is appreciated :D
And thank you to my beta: 'You'rethevoice'
Uther was dead and Arthur was King now. He had mixed emotions about that because although he loved his father, of course he did; it was nice to be free to do as he pleased without being forced into anything. The only thing he hated was the pressure, the whole kingdom was in his hands, and he didn't have an advisor either because he didn't trust anyone enough. Arthur had his knights and his sister but nobody he could really trust with his life and that of his people. So maybe his dad was right, a wife and an heir would be useful to him now, but he knew in his heart that wouldn't be right. Yes, she'd be 'useful' to the King but how was that fair on anyone? Even if it was only one of those girls that couldn't see past the money and his looks, one of those girls with no emotions, he wasn't like that. He couldn't live like that.
He trusted Morgana the most out of everyone and she was the only one who knew his big secret that he wasn't ready to share with anyone else yet. He wasn't like all the other King's from different Kingdoms had been. Okay, so he was handsome with a broad chest and girls fawning over him constantly (He could see that. He wasn't blind) but that's where the difference was, he wasn't one to except their advances like the others. He knew what he was, he just refused to admit it, and it was easier that way especially when his dad was alive. Now he had so much pressure on his shoulders alone that he had no time to contemplate anything to do with his personal life, and he was happy with how he lived for now.
Since his father's death four years ago magic was still outlawed, he saw no reason to change it even though he didn't exactly hold the same extreme views it would just cause more problems than it was worth. He felt as though a part of his father was still held in that law, and he wasn't quite ready to cut it yet. On the up side, Morgana had seemed a much happier person for the last four years and had only recently become engaged to one of Arthur's knights, Gwaine. He was happy for them, honestly, Gwaine was very loyal and trustworthy and Arthur knew he would take care of his sister.
He sat in the hall where a feast was being held for the upcoming tournament of knights and fighters. It wasn't a competition for anything but pride really, it was held annually and was a tradition. This year was Camelot's year to hold it which excited Arthur no end as, since he had become King, everything he'd done had been so serious and important whereas this was a chance for him to relax and enjoy himself.
A thin, pretty maid from some other kingdom came to offer him a drink half way through while couples were dancing across the floor in front of him, pouring it while (not so subtly) pushing her boobs into his face and giving him flirty eyes. Arthur was completely oblivious to this though, it really didn't interest him. His eyes scanned the room and first landed on Morgana who gave him a knowing smile, he scowled back and continued staring around the room. He was about to turn back to his wine when he noticed a small, lithe boy standing in the corner. He looked not much younger than Arthur himself, maybe eighteen at the most (It was hard to tell from where he was sitting.)
The mysterious boy that had caught Arthur's eye had messy jet black hair and wide, bright blue eyes, peering from the dark corner of the room he was crouching in. He looked as though he was trying to sink away, hide, not wanting to be found, allowing the darkness to engulf him obviously wishing he was anywhere but in the hall. To Arthur he wasn't being successful, his pale skin almost glowing in the light. He intrigued Arthur, but he wasn't allowed to think anymore about the boy as he was pulled out of his trance to make conversation with other knights and only reluctantly did Arthur drag his eyes away from the boy.
The raven haired boy completely left the King's mind the following day, as had everything left to organise (He needed to stop leaving things till the last minute so he could stop Morgana giving him that smug 'I told you so' look). The tournament had him rushing around making sure all other knights, princes, kings and queens were satisfied with where they stayed and everything was set up and ready. Arthur was further an unconventional king in the fact that he took part in the competition; he wasn't one to just sit around dolefully at the edge of the matches and watch his men fight. He enjoyed taking part and showing his knights how it was done; he'd always been a show off.
"Arthur? Arthur, have you even been listening to me this whole time?" Morgana scowled at her brother who was sitting on the window ledge form where she sat on his bed.
"Yeah, of course..." Arthur pulled his eyes away from the window.
"Go on then?" Morgana insisted.
"No, you go. You're in my room." Arthur stood up, staring incredulously at his sister.
"Oh shut up Arthur, I meant go on then, what did I say?" She rolled her eyes at his stupidity and looked at him expectantly.
"You were talking about organising your wedding. Honestly Gana, can we at least get this tournament over and done with first before we start organising something else?" He moaned crossing the room and slumping down on his bed next to his sister.
"Alright then." She sighed. "What's up? You've been acting odd lately?"
"Nothing" He looked her directly in the eyes. "Honestly!" He added as she raised one eyebrow. "Well it's just, there was this boy at the feast the other day and... Never mind!" He had crumbled, again under Morgana's unforgiving stare.
"Well, if you need to talk..." Morgana winked at him walking away, her hard exterior only falling away when she gave him a warm smile before sweeping out of the room and leaving Arthur to sleep.
Arthur awoke the morning of the first tournament to a bright blue sky and a piercing sun – one he already decided he could use to his advantage later that day. A random servant called 'George' with short black hair and a distinctly average looking face got his breakfast and dressed him in his chainmail. He didn't have a full time manservant, he didn't see the point. Arthur preferred not to get involved so liked using whatever servant happened to be passing, it probably had something to with slight trust issue (Not that Arthur would admit he had any sort 'emotional issues').
He wandered down the path that sloped from the castle to the part of the grounds the tournament would be held on. Arthur was ready to vent some of the tension he held these days as a King and this was just what he needed, no real drama just what he was good at, what he had been trained to do since birth by his slightly too pushy father. He believed that part of his success was down to his need to make his father proud and prove himself, and in a way he was glad that he had hardly any choice in whether he used to train or not, it had shaped him into the King he was today.
Arthur's first fight was with an ordinary knight from a different kingdom, no match for Arthur and it was over almost before it had begun. He was quick and quite skilful but had hardly and weight behind him and his blows were weak so Arthur used it to his advantage. For when he was small he had been trained to see the weakness' in everybody and saw everything as a test he had to pass for survival, it was the way he had been raised and was solidly instilled in his mind rarely slipping.
A few more fights and a joust or two later Arthur was up for his next fight, a different knight, this time there was no skill in the flick of his wrist and the plunge of his sword yet he was built like a mountain. The sun was his help in this match, dodging and weaving around his opponent so the it always came from behind him, blinding the man he fought and giving him the perfect opportunity to duck round behind him in that millisecond he was distracted to catch him off guard and win an easy fight. Although he won this one, it had taken much longer with more skill and effort needed so the amount of movement it took and the strength of the sun took it out of him.
Just as he was about to head off into his tent to cool down he saw a dash of black hair and pale skin flying around the corner. He followed it ending up standing in front of a small quivering ball, the boy from the feast. Hardly thinking about it, he cautiously sat down making sure there was a small gap between them and stretched his hand out touching the boy lightly on the back with a reassuring hand. He wasn't ready for the extremely bad reaction he received, the boy practically leapt into the air, a high pitched screech falling from his mouth, obviously not having noticed Arthur had approached him, let alone sat down on the grass beside him moments before.
"I'm erm sorry!" Arthur mumbled, recoiling from the boy slightly.
He didn't get a reply, just a wide eyed stare which gave him time to contemplate him closer up while he waited. All high cheekbones and adorably oversized ears, Arthur had to admit the boy had a unique face with an untamed kind of innocence about him. His clothes were ruffled and slightly ripped, a red, faded piece of rag was hung loosely around his neck, hiding a long length of pale skin; he concluded the boy must be some sort of servant or something. After a few minutes of unbearably awkward silence the King decided it was time to leave and retreated to his tent as quickly as possible as the boy had recoiled into himself, again looking as though he was trying to protect himself from the world.
For the next two days Arthur couldn't shake the thoughts of the skinny boy, he just couldn't work out what was wrong with him or why he was so scared when Arthur had done nothing wrong. He only wanted to comfort the boy or try and figure out what pulled him so strongly towards the other male.
He carried on with the fights and jousts as though nothing had happened and didn't see the strange boy again until about the fourth day of fighting. Of course Arthur was still in the tournament and had just fought (and beaten) an extremely well matched knight (of his Kingdom he was proud to say) when he heard a muffled scream on the way back, coming from a neighbouring tent.
Following the sound the blond King made his way between the maze of tents (He really should learn to stop being so god damn nosey.) The tent opening was only slightly pulled back but enough so that Arthur could peer in and see what was happening, although once he had done it he almost wished that it was completely closed and he had just minded his own business. But no, he had gone and got himself involved and refused to just leave the situation as it was.
He could see the back of one of the young princes from another kingdom that was also taking part in the tournament. From the broad shoulders of his back and shoulder length black, greasy hair he could tell that it was Prince Casandrian. The pale boy Arthur had scared yesterday was lying on top of a table, shirt off and long lines of pale skin bared. Thin lines of red, risen skin littered the smaller boy's body, and the spaces that these didn't cover were shining purple mixed with blues and greens.
"Boy stay the fuck still" The prince growled at the boy as he leered over him a hand on his throat, his body pushing the boys into the table that he was bent over backwards on.
Arthur barely heard the small whimper that escaped the boy's lips as he saw the grip around the boy's neck tighten and the knife shine as it pressed into him. The prince held it to the boy's abdomen causing a small trickle of red to mar the only space of pale skin on his torso that had previously been untouched.
His gasp and sharp intake of breath was audible even over the cheers of the crowd in the stands. Arthur's hand flew over his mouth, but he knew it was too late. Prince Casadrian jumped away from the boy and he slipped to the floor going back into his protective ball and half rolling under the table away from the man's feet. He took a stance in front of the boy trying to hide him, not for protection but in the hope nobody would find out what he was doing. Although in his kingdom this sort of thing was normal, he knew it was outlawed in Camelot.
Withdrawing his sword from where it was sheathed around his waist, he stepped into the tent with more confidence than he'd care to admit he felt. Feet spread to shoulder width, standing tall and looking as intimidating as he could possibly look.
"What do you think you're doing? You know that sort of vile act is forbidden in my kingdom." Arthur almost roared at the prince, taking great pleasure in watching the prince shrink back slightly. "Not nice when it's done to you is it."
The prince visibly stood back to his full height in an attempt not to look so frightened. Arthur could see straight through the shield he'd put up as he stomped towards the King.
"And what you going to do about it?" He clenched his teeth as he said it, crowding Arthur's space.
"I'm going to take him from you." Arthur said it as calmly as possible, using all the self restraint he owned to not run the man through there and then.
"Ha! He's not yours to take, I own him and there is nothing you can do about it!" There was no humour to the man's laugh, it was cold and hollow. Arthur just wanted to wipe the smug look off the man's face.
Without thinking, the king pulled the glove from his right hand and dropped it in front of the man. They stood not breaking eye contact for almost five minutes and Arthur was beginning to think the man wouldn't take up the challenge, until he bent slowly picking up the glove and smiling as he backed away from the King out of the tent.
"Till tomorrow then." He laughed his humourless laugh again as the tent flap swung closed behind him and Arthur scowled at the place he had left moments before.
He felt something on the bottom of his leg, like a tugging feeling, and looked down to find bright eyes staring up at him. He could see the sorrow and a small glint of hope in the boy's eyes, although he was still wrapped up in a ball and had removed his hand quickly from Arthur's leg as though it had burnt him. The small boy had obviously moved over to him without him noticing and seemed to regret his actions slightly as Arthur bent down next to him and he shuffled backwards a few inches.
"Listen, I have to go soon but tomorrow, tomorrow I promise that I'll do anything I can to help you. You won't be leaving Camelot. That's a promise and A Pendragon always keeps his promises." Arthur reassured the boy, this time not bothering to try and touch him. "You'll have to stay here for another night, I can't help you yet. I don't normally do this, but there's something about you, I can't quite put my finger on it." When he received no response he stood back up re-sheathing his sword and following in the Prince's footsteps out of the tent and into his instead, flopping down in a chair.
He was glad he had no fights left that day and did not regret what he had just done, it was the right thing. The only problem was he couldn't help but imagine what his dad would have said, what he would have thought about him trying to save 'a mere slave'.
Two hours later and he was still sitting in the same chair, a mix of alcohol and thoughts of his father's disapproval causing him to be irrationally angry. He stood, knocking his chair over and banging his fists down on the table so firmly that things flew off the side. Taking one ruthless kick at the chair now lying on the floor, he left the tent to make his way back up to the castle, strolling slowly, the cool breeze causing him to calm down slightly and de-stress.
He reached his room, chucking off his clothes and diving straight into his bed ignoring the bath, suddenly becoming overly tired. He drifted off quite quickly into a fitful sleep including dreams about the black haired boy and how the prince treated him.
Arthur was woken the next morning by light streaming through the window as the sun began to rise. He groaned, rolling over onto his front and buried his face into the cushions, slowly beginning to remember what he had done the day before, and what was waiting for him today. He regretted getting involved.
Standing up, he went and opened his door asking a passing servant to go get him breakfast and dressed himself. The food was on the table in front of him moments later and he ate it more out of duty than because he was hungry.
Pushing his chair back, he got up and left the room, walking briskly along two corridors and down a flight of stairs. He knocked once and entered without an invite.
"Well that wasn't exactly polite." Morgana turned to face her brother, putting her hair brush down on her dresser.
"Sorry, it's just, I need to talk to you." Arthur paced up and down the room, hands clasped together behind his back.
"Stop that, you remind me of Uther when you pace." Arthur shuddered and sat on the edge of her bed instead. "Come on then, what do you want?" She had a smirk on her face as though she had always known Arthur would need to speak to her.
"You know I said about the boy?" Arthur started looking at his feet like a small child.
"Yes, the one you were talking about the other night?" Morgana stood and crossed the room, settling herself down on her bed next to her brother obviously realising this was going to be a serious conversation.
"Yes that one. Well yesterday, I saw Prince Casadrian holding a knife to the boy's stomach and he had bruises and cuts everywhere! Morgana, you have to realise I couldn't leave him like that!" Arthur finished off looking directly at his sister who threw an arm around him, nodding her understanding. "So I went in there, and he wouldn't let me take the boy. So I challenged him to a fight over the boy, today. I just, I can't do it."
"Why not?" She asked as Arthur stood up.
"Because Morgana, what would father think? What would the people of the kingdom think?" Arthur looked at her pleading her to understand how he felt.
"Arthur! When will you learn? It doesn't matter what he thinks, you need to make your own decisions now your king. Lead like you're meant to, you know what I think, Uther can go to hell for all I care! Anyway, I believe your people will appreciate what you're trying to do. It shows you have a heart, more importantly it shows you were different from your father and that's what people like about you." Morgana smiled a warm, genuine smile at Arthur as she stood up pulling him into a hug.
When they pulled away from each other he nodded at her and left the room to return back to his chambers to prepare for the impending fight.
Dressed in his full armour he made his way down towards the stands where a crowd of people were waiting to watch the fights. Arthur was feeling confident, he never lost his fights but it made him slightly more nervous than normal as more was at stake. As he neared he saw the boy sat in the front row of the stands, knees pulled up to his chest and arms wrapped around them, hugging himself as though he wanted to disappear as normal. Arthur noticed the boy didn't like anyone touching him and any sort of contact from either side made him jump slightly and hold his knees more tightly. He also noticed that the prince had been very careful not to allow any of the cuts or bruises to show above the boy's clothes, nobody would suspect a thing, especially as the neckerchief he wore covered his collarbones and most of his neck (allowing more space for the Prince to harm him no doubt.)
Pushing his helmet onto his head he stepped into the arena, pulling his gloves on as he walked towards Prince Casadrian where he waited in the middle facing Arthur. The prince grinned smugly at him one more time, turning to wink at the young boy in the stands just to annoy Arthur, knowing that the boy wouldn't even notice. He growled low in his throat and brought his hand and sword up to face the prince. He flicked his wrist around, his sword swivelling with it and bringing it back in front of him.
The Prince was slightly taller than Arthur but in all they were quite well matched which should give them quite a fair fight. His opponent took the first move, swinging his sword down towards Arthur's head which he blocked easily, moving his shield up to meet the sword using his other hand to swing his own sword at the Prince.
The sword connected with his chest armour and the force pushed him backwards slightly but he still managed to keep his balance. The next few swings of Arthur's sword managed to dislodge the Prince's shield and it went flying away from him, the King copying him and throwing away his own sword (he had always been raised to think that the only way he could be proud of a win was if the fight was fair.)
Arthur used both hands to hit the Prince with his sword this time and after a glint of metal and a slightly late dodge, Arthur's weapon made contact with the prince's arm, causing a slight break to form in his chainmail. While his opponent was stumbling backwards Arthur lunged forward, tripping the man over so he fell onto his back, his helmet rolling off. Again Arthur copied and so both men were now facing each other again, minus their shields and helmets.
This time the prince got the upper hand, pushing Arthur back with blows so strong Arthur could only barely defend himself. After about ten blows the king lost his footing over nothing and tripped onto his back, a sword being pressed against his chest before he even realised what had happened. The prince stood above him an evil look in his eye, the colour of his eyes seemed to darken as he looked triumphantly at the King at his mercy. Arthur was unsure how, but he had managed to drop his sword as he had fallen, and with no other option left to him he rose his hands by his head in surrender, the crowds booing at his loss.