Once Arthur was sure that Gaius and the boy, Merlin, were gone he climbed down, sending bits of dust onto him. He quickly walked towards the chambers he had taken up residence in, which was near the heart of the manor.

He bounded up the stairs like a wolf might and into the first room on the right. There were lots of rooms that he could have used, but this one was the most like his own chambers back in Camelot and thus felt more like home.

He quickly spotted the extra clothes that had been brought to him that he desperately needed. He tended to accidentally rip and tear his clothing while he was trying to blow off steam by climbing, running, and basically destroying things all around the manor.

Next to the clothes was a letter from Gaius. He approached it slowly, his long, clawed toenails clicking on the stone flooring. He reached out and used his long claws to quickly open the letter.

'Dear Arthur,

No progress has been made as of yet about how to reverse this curse. Don't worry though, we have not given up searching for one, and we won't until you're back to normal in Camelot with us.

I bet you're wondering about the boy who came here with me today-'

Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes. Why would he be curious about who the boy was?

'- and I'm going to let you know right from the start that he does not know who you are or what has happened to you. His name is Merlin, and he's my ward back in Camelot. Traveling so far in one day is stressful and difficult for me to do, so Merlin will be helping me.

You don't have to come out when he's around, although I would appreciate you coming down from those rafters next time so I can check you over.

In the end, the choice is yours.

-Gaius'

Arthur laid the letter back down on the table as he thought over everything Gaius had written. His heart felt heavy with something similar to dismay that his father had never been mentioned in Gaius's letter, at least not directly.

At the same time though, Arthur felt his heart lighten. So Gaius hadn't betrayed him by bringing someone who would kill or attack him. Not that he actually believed that the scrawny, big eared boy could harm him even if he tried beastly transformation or not. It still felt good to know at least Gaius was still on his side with all of this.

It wasn't long until his heart was sinking again though. Today was the only day he got to talk to someone, even if that someone was just Gaius, whose main conversation topic was asking how Arthur felt, and he had missed it by hiding up in the rafters from a boy whose only dangerous feature was how sharp his cheekbones were.

He hated to admit it, but he was lonely. He missed talking to people and giving orders to useless servants. He missed roughhousing with the knights, hell he even missed council meetings with the old stuffy lords and his father.

He hated to admit it, but he had to. That is, were there was anyone there to admit it to.

With a sigh that sounded more like a growl, he headed back to the kitchen. Before he had been forced to move into the manor by himself he would have laughed at the thought of him fixing any sort of food. He was a prince, with cooks and servants who would practically fall over themselves to serve him food. There was absolutely no need for him to know how to cook as long as he lived in Camelot as a prince.

The problem now was that he no longer lived in Camelot, but a rundown manor, and he was no longer even able to use the title of Prince, even if there had been anyone to order around.

The first day he had moved in, (and calmed down enough to not rip apart the first soul in sight) Gaius began to show him simple things to make. Arthur had resisted at first, surely he wouldn't be there long enough for that, but he eventually came around to it after eating nothing but the rations normally taken on patrols for two weeks.

His cooking skills were still subpar, Gaius was a physician not a cook or a cooking teacher after all, but it was better than nothing. It was sad, but he was almost getting used to his own horrible cooking, even though it had only been three months.

Another thing that was sad was that he almost enjoyed cooking. It gave him something to do other than mope about or wreck parts of the manor, and it felt natural. It sounded odd, but it helped him to feel no as lonely as he was, knowing that people all around Camelot was doing the exact thing he was doing: cooking a nice meal to be enjoyed, even if it was just for himself.

He went about the room, taking out everything he would need to make a roasted chicken, which was thankfully one of the things that Gaius had managed to pack for him. Gaius was usually pretty good at bringing him the things he requested, such as chicken or more clothes.

Cooking was slow going due to his long claws that refused to detract whenever he was angry or stressed. He wasn't even exactly sure what he was so stressed about, which only served to make him even more stressed, thus creating a never ending cycle of un-retractable claws.

He quickly ate the meal, woofing it down in a very un-princely manner. Before the curse he hadn't eaten with his fingers since he had been a young child, especially not after his tutors had practically beaten it into his head that that was not how little princes ate. After the curse, however, he didn't care how he looked while he ate. First of all, there was no one around to see him, and secondly, he was always hungry. He had eaten a lot while he had been a normal prince, but now that he was some kind of… beast for lack of a better word, he was practically ravenous all the time.

At least he had thought there was no one around to see him.

"Seems like someone has a big appetite. Now, now is that anyway for a prince to eat?" the witch's voice spoke from across the room.

Arthur dropped his chicken causing to it land with a thud onto the plate. His glowing red eyes flashed even brighter at the sight of the witch, and his claws extended even further.

Morgause was casually sprawled in the chair across the long table from him, her legs swinging freely over one armrest. She stretched her arms out above her head, her long, blonde hair falling carelessly down her shoulders, looking almost as golden as her eyes did when she cast magic in the candle lit kitchen.

Arthur growled, standing up and gripping the edges of the table as if he was preparing to throw it across the room to get to the witch.

A slow, lazy smile spread across Morgause's face. "Seems to me like someone has quite a temper. Then again, you had one even before the curse, didn't you?"

Arthur's blood was practically boiling at seeing the witch again, and it was only made worse by the fact that she was teasing him.

"Reverse this. Now!" he growled, the animalistic urge to kill, to hurt, to maim, was back again, this time focused entirely on the witch.

"Now why would I do such a thing?" Morgause asked, completely unfazed by the beast in front of her.

"Because I order you to!" Arthur roared. The small part of his mind that was still capable of rational thinking told him that no good would come from roaring at the witch, but it was so small and quiet that it was covered up by the more animalistic part.

Morgause's smile disappeared, a deep frown and glare settling onto her face instead. She slowly stood up out of her chair, her red dress sliding to the floor and gathering at her feet.

"There you go again, ordering me like I'm yours to command," she said threateningly. "There's a reason I put this curse on you, and until you've learned your lesson this is how you'll have to stay." Her voice was low and even and calm, which somehow seemed even more intimidating than if she had been screaming at him.

"But I have!" Arthur said. He would have considered his voice desperate, but princes don't sound desperate. "I've learned my lesson now!"

Morgause squinted her eyes even more at the prince's words, clearly not pleased to hear them. "You've learned nothing. You're still the same arrogant prince I cursed three months ago; the only difference now is that you're lonely. You've proven as much by trying to order me around."

Arthur struggled to hold back the urge to rip the witch's throat out or toss her out the window. He stared down at the kitchen table, trying to ignore the witch as she walked around the table and towards him, dragging her fingers across the wooden surface.

"I told you before I believe that you can be a great king, and that's why I'm doing this. You need to be taught a lesson," Morgause said.

The simple truth of it was that her words sounded sincere. Surely that was just another trick conjured by the witch. If she honestly believed that he was going to be a great king (which was something he already knew, thank you very much) then why turn him into such a beast?

"How am I expected to become a great king, or learn my lesson, if I'm locked away in this old manor?" Arthur asked, hating how soft and lost his voice sounded. Gone was the confident, roaring animalistic voice from before, replaced with the lost and lonely voice of a boy left all on his own.

Morgause seemed to be sympathetic as she closed the space between them and rested her hand on his upper arm. "That's not something that I can control, nor can I answer," she said softly. Arthur never lifted his eyes from the table.

"I know that it's hard to be so lonely. To be afraid that if you walked out the door you might be killed for something that you couldn't control," she said. Arthur tried to ignore her words, wanting no comfort from the witch who had cursed him.

"Which is why I want to give you this," she said. She reached into a small bag Arthur hadn't noticed strapped to her side and pulled out a mirror from the small bag.

Arthur finally glanced over to Morgause and the mirror in her hands. The last thing Arthur wanted in the manor was mirrors; in fact, most of them had already been destroyed or covered up. But he couldn't help but be drawn to the mirror.

It seemed to be an ordinary mirror, although a slightly expensive one if the ruby red jewels and golden tint was anything to go by. It seemed more like a gift for Morgana than the beastly Arthur.

"A mirror?" he questioned. He wanted to rant to the witch about how her little practical joke of a gift wasn't funny, when she held up a hand for silence.

"This is more than a mirror. This allows you to see anyone in the world you want, so long as you know their name," she said, waving a hand over the mirror's smooth surface. It began to cloud over and the witch opened her mouth to speak again. "Show me Arthur Pendragon."

The grey clouds in the mirror swirled around like a tornado, hints of red mixing into it. The clouds began to clear and Arthur gasped.

He could see himself, but not the way one would normally see themselves in a mirror. It was as if he was floating from above, his back and the witch in the center of the mirror.

He held one hand out and wiggled his fingers and watched as his little mirror-self did the same. He tested it a few more times, each time doing more and more ridiculous things to prove that the mirror was really seeing him.

Morgause gave an almost nonexistent smile at the young Pendragon's antics. He actually looked like the twenty-year-old boy he really was for once, instead of the beast or the obnoxious prince.

"And this shows anyone in the world, just as long as I know their name?" Arthur asked, his hand reaching for the mirror. His claws clinked slightly as he gripped the handle gently, not wanting to damage the magical object.

"That's its job," the witch said. Arthur seemed to be rather interested in the mirror, obviously deep in thought.

A magical object this powerful was obviously dangerous. It could show anyone in the castle at any moment, which could be positively catastrophic in the wrong hands. It was clearly something that should be destroyed.

But he didn't have it in him to destroy it. This mirror could show him anyone that he wanted to see. Even if he couldn't talk to them, he would still be able to see them, which was more than what he had right now.

The clouds swirled just under the surface again, obscuring the image of the prince and the witch, this time reflecting like a normal mirror should. He stared into the mirror and at Morgause's reflection.

"What's the catch?" he heard himself ask, although most of him was still focused on the mirror in his hands.

"There is no catch, Arthur Pendragon," Morgause said as she stepped back and out of the range of the mirror. "Despite what you may believe, I actually want you to succeed."

That seemed doubtful; otherwise she wouldn't have turned him into such a beast in the first place. Arthur opened his mouth and spun around on his heels, prepared to tell the witch exactly that, but she was gone.

Alright so this ends this chapter! I really wanted to put more into this, but I don't have time to type the rest of it out tonight. I might update before next Thursday. That is, if I don't have to work too many hours this next week!

And sorry for not answering you're questions about the story, my email message replying isn't working for some reason, and I don't want to put them in the story in case they could possible spoil something for someone who doesn't want to know yet.

Til' Later!