The right of passage for a young Prince meant that his first major hunt was at ten years old. He would take the trip out with his father and many of the best Knights- in his younger years, observing the party leaving the castle gates it had seemed like hundreds of men, but as Arthur grew he had realised the numbers weren't so large. As a hunting pack they would roam the forests surrounding Camelot, going as far as possible, right up to the borders between other kingdoms, and camping for days on end until they had cartloads full of game and wildlife to adorn their tables or walls with.

"You are 8 years old now my boy, almost a man."

"Yes Father."

"And in many ways you far surpass any boy of your age."

The small blond looked up at his father.

"And that is why I am asking you to join me on my hunting trip next week."

"But Father, Sire, I am below the rightful age." The boy was trying to be political, but his eyes still shone with excitement.

"Only physically my son, mentally, you could be King tomorrow."

And there they were. Father and Son, King and Prince, riding through the vast forests of Camelot, trailed by a stream of knights in their majestic red Pendragon cloaks. They had already been travelling for two nights now, camping below the stars and watching as the nocturnal creatures replaced those of the day.

Ahead and below them, over the crest of the hill, they could see another group of people, the size was not large but Uther's mind travelled quickly to Druids. Though, upon closer inspection it became apparent this was just a small, lowly village on the move. People were looking scared, occasionally looking backward and whispering to another close by. No-body appeared to be injured, or in need of help, though the fear was quite clear.

As the hunting party grew close, odd members- mainly men- ran toward them. "Sire, Sire." They shouted, already knowing who rode their way. "Our village, it has a curse. It...there must be magic."

So many voices spoke at once Arthur did not know where to focus first, whether it be upon the elder man of the group, the one telling the younger Heads of houses to be quiet, or the desperate group behind them.

"Hush." Uther's voice rose above all and immediately drew the bickering to a close. He pointed to the oldest man, who seemed to be the elder of the village. "You, tell me what has happened."

"Magic my Lord. Our village has been plagued with strange occurrences for a few years now but in the last week we have been chased out of our homes. It seems to have increased tenfold."

"In what way?" Uther was agitated, nervously fidgeting in his seat and looking in the direction they had come as if he could see the 'curse' itself following them, though he kept his voice strong.

"At first small things, things going missing or appearing, candles and fires going out with no wind. Then they grew. Fires sprang from nowhere. Things blowing up or fierce winds gushing through our village." It was clear the man could go on but realised it had already done what was needed, the news had already hit the spot.

"What village?"

"Ealdor Sire, within Essetir." The man shied away then, worried that this was indeed not Uther's Kingdom and he could not, lawfully, intervene.

"No harm. Magic is involved, I will not stand for such despicable events. If Lot enquires, I will come to an arrangement."

The King of Camelot turned to his Knights, barking orders for the large majority to follow him and be prepared, whilst a smaller lot was to stay with the villagers, keep watchful eyes on them should anything happen and most importantly to watch over their Prince. "I shall return, you stay here Arthur." It was an order the boy knew to keep, and besides, it would give him a chance to rest his sore behind- not that he would let on to his Father that he was uncomfortable. Oh do not be a child Arthur, real men do not suffer.

As the villagers settled around him Arthur took the chance to watch the interactions of the Knights knowing full well that when he was old enough these were the types of things he would be doing. He saw particularly how they calmed the women and children, focusing on their discomfort and keeping them at ease. After watching a good few he decided to try his hand too, choosing a lonely mother who had seated herself well off from the rest- the main choice being that it was away from the group should he mess up completely.

"There now, how are you fairing my lady?" He said, walking up to the woman who cradled her son in her arms.

The boy was only a year or two younger than him though he was incredibly small, at least when it came to his weight. He did not look dangerously thin, or too underfed, but had he been a child in Camelot he would have at least been double his size. The first thing, besides his build, that Arthur noted were the ears. Maybe he'll grow into them. They stuck out like a bats wings, which wasn't too far from the imagination with the jet black hair sprouting around them. It went off in all directions, curling at the ends and in desperate need of a cut. It was then that the Prince noticed the wetness of the curls, and how they stuck to the forehead and cheeks in certain places. The boy's pallor was almost grey, his already pale skin a worrying shade that made his hair seem even darker, if at all possible. The mother held him close, her eyes bulging as she looked to the Prince.

"Prince Arthur." The name came out more as a shocked, almost horrified, breath.

"Yes." He half answered, half asked, as if he wasn't sure he wanted to be 'Prince Arthur' at this moment in time. "I..I came over to ask you if you faired well? And your son."

Looking down at the trembling form he was pretty certain the boy was not fine. But nonetheless the woman looked back and managed to paint a smile on her face. "Oh yes My Lord, we fair well thanking you." She must have noticed him looking at her son for she added, rather quickly and shakily. "He is just a little scared with all of this excitement, never left our village before today you see."

"Ah." Arthur nodded, looking around as if his next move or question would show itself. "Erm...can I get you anything?"

"No." The reply came far too quickly, almost as if the woman wanted him gone right that second. Though she corrected herself, slowing her breath before trying again. "No, thank you, I think I should just try and get him to sleep."

Something clicked, like the snap of a thread of fate and the boy jerked in his mother's arms, his body spasming in pain. The woman couldn't quite hold him and he turned to face Arthur then, his back becoming parallel to his Mother's chest. The scrunched brow straightened all too quickly as the eyes snapped open to reveal not green, or blue, or even brown eyes, but pure gold. He had seen enough sorcerers to know that the gold he now witnessed meant the source of the magic was no longer in Ealdor but held in a poor woman's arms in the forests on the border of Camelot, ruled by a hellbent tyrant against magic, and Essetir, a dangerous and potentially dangerous kingdom. Around them a sudden wind blew, creating a small twister of leaves and stones. If not for the situation it would have been quite exciting, what with the colours dancing gracefully of their own accord and rocks and pebbles colliding to create a strangely musical jingle. Though as Arthur was in the midst of half panicking, half gazing in wonder almost instantly it died, just as the boy's fit ceased.

Almost instinctively he poised himself to run, and the name 'KAY' screamed out all too quickly. Something, though he know not what, made him stop, kept his feet planted firmly in place. He looked from the boy, who was now whimpering as sweat beaded on his head, to his mother and saw her face. He saw the pure terror in her features, the tears in her eyes that would soon become a waterfall and the plea already forming on her lips. She seemed to freeze, her words getting lodged in her throat. So no begging for mercy was heard, no excuses.

But her eyes relayed a thousand words, the wondrous eyes of an innocent begging and proving there was no harm. And imbedded within the look was pride and adoration, it was felt wholeheartedly for her son and Arthur knew the boy was her whole world. It was not the pride you saw of a dark sorcerer, not the type he had seen in Druids watching their own children kill an innocent with a flick of the wrist, so happy to see their own darkness passed down. No, this was the true love of a mother. Though, as he thought back he could not picture seeing the gaze in any other eyes, not in all the thousands of women that resided in Camelot. The woman in front of him was different, maybe she was hiding her and her son, or maybe there was something more to it, but she knew the lad was special in so many ways, even Arthur could tell that, and it showed in the way she looked at him, the way that showed the Prince just how much of a gift all of this was. And so, in that moment this was just a mother who was protecting her child. She was not a bad person and neither was the boy. He was ill, Arthur could see that, and it was causing him to lose control. What if it was a curse. A small voice said, but he knew this was no curse, he didn't know why, or how, but he knew, it was almost as if he could feel the magic thrumming in the boy's veins.

Arthur had not personally met many magical beings, but when he had he'd, somehow, always been able to feel the bad energy within them. He had tried to explain once or twice to his father that some of the people he was sentencing to death did not feel bad, that they did not share the same evil energy, but of course, the vengeful King would not listen. All magic is evil Arthur. Now he could feel the same thing. This boy's magic almost seemed to glow, not that the Prince could actually see anything, and deep within him he could feel, or maybe even hear, a chorus of calm notes, a tingling of bells or strings being plucked. Once again he looked to the mother, her face now just as pale as her sons, with tears streaming freely down her face. Arthur had not known his own Mother but somehow he still felt the grief of losing her, maybe it had been watching his father suffer from her loss, but the young boy often felt sadness as if he truly had known her. Ygraine had been taken away through evil. It was evil that had killed her. If Uther killed the boy would it not be the same? Evil taking a loved one, and all because of magic. Morgana had once said that maybe Uther was evil too, just, maybe in a different way, she had mused. Should this boy be taken from his mother it would only mean the same grief Arthur felt, it would be the opposite side of the coin: A mother from her son, a son from his mother.

"Arthur!?" Kay ran up beside him, the Knight who had looked after the Prince since birth. He was breathing hard and his sword was already half from its scabbard. The man's eyes were darting to and fro and finally landed on the pair on the ground. "What is it my Prince?"

The young mother brought her son closer to her, pulling his head to her chest and shielding him from the knight. She was petrified, not only of Arthur having him taken away but of the same accidental magic happening in front of more witnesses.

"Nothing." Heads whipped to him, both the large knight and the woman. Arthur swallowed, standing resolute. "This boy has a fever, get one of the vials and some water for him."

"Yes Prince Arthur." Kay clearly did not see anything amiss so nodded and ran off on his errand.

The mother looked to him, her eyes now shining with tears of joy, though there was still a look of uncertainty on her face. Maybe she thought he would hand them straight over to Uther.

But nothing did happen. Kay returned moments later with the medicine the court physician had packed for the party and a skin of water. "Keep it." He had said, nodding to the water. "We have more." And with another nod had walked off. Arthur had taken a final look to the pair, at how relieved and grateful the woman was.

"I hope the fever breaks." He said and walked away.

It was half a day later the King returned, stating the village seemed abandoned by both its people and the 'curse' but they were to send for him the moment anything happened again. Breaking company the two groups went their own ways, the villagers, along with the mother and son, back to Ealdor, and the Knights, King Uther and Prince Arthur, back to Camelot.

Turning on his horse one final time he spotted the small yet gangly boy. He was now walking with his hand held tightly in his mother's, slowly and unsteadily- like a newborn foal with those legs- and still looked very pale, but he too looked back, as if sensing the Prince looking to him, and gave a wide smile that seemed to take over his face. There was no malice in the look, just a joy any young child should have. Before turning back his eyes glowed gold for a split second and Arthur panicked, but as a leaf brushed his hair he realised the boy had just stopped him coming off his stead, for a branch was suspended high above his head, the bark clearly strained as if an invisible force was holding it up. Once he had passed under it the boys eyes returned to a wondrous blue and the branch sprang back into place, just below Arthur's shoulder height.

Thanks. He nodded.

He must have imagined it but he could swear he had heard a small voice reply. You're welcome, my King.

*edit* A comment left by 'clh' (thank you very much) pointed out my mistake in who ruled Essetir at the times of the chapters. Chapter 2 was Cenred's, as I had written 'Lot's', Kingdom and I have since changed that, however, they also pointed out the King in Arthur's childhood would not have been Cenred (too young) and that the king at the time is unknown- as far as can be told. I have changed the places I wrote 'Lot's Kingdom' just to Essetir (with a few small edited sentences) and I hope they work ok.