A/N: Another kinda zany AU idea, lol. I hope you enjoy it!

Chapter 1

It was a cold, blustery day that found the lone wanderer Lancelot trudging through the woods. The chill air wormed its way under his thin shirt, and he wrapped his arms around his torso tightly trying to hold in what little warmth he had. If he didn't find shelter soon, he was going to be in dire trouble. The problem was he was lost. After being run out of the last village as a vagrant and beggar, he had nowhere to go. No one wanted a displaced young man whose village had been destroyed. As though he were some kind of walking curse that would bring the same misfortune upon them.

Sometimes he wished he had died with his family, rather than fall to the elements far from a home that no longer existed.

Wolves bayed in the distance, sending an entirely different chill up his spine. He tried to pick up his pace, if only to keep the blood flowing in his limbs. He was going to run out of stamina soon.

Then, as if conjured by his need, a castle loomed up just ahead, gray spires stretching into the pewter sky. Lancelot hesitated; he had not received a welcome in any other place he had gone, and yet he was desperate. So he turned toward it, pushing on as the last of his reserves quickly began to wane.

The road, if it could be called that, was covered in autumn leaves, and the large gate to the castle grounds was closed. Lancelot staggered toward it, grabbing the bars to hold himself up.

"Hello?" he called. "Is anyone there?"

But as was his constant misfortune lately, the place looked abandoned. He shook the bars, then tried to squeeze through them, but of course he couldn't fit. There was an iron lock, and Lancelot tried to break that next. If he could just get inside, he could find shelter from the wind and cold for the night.

But the lock was secure. Lancelot slumped down on the icy ground in abject defeat. It seemed he'd finally be joining his family after all.

Arthur stood on the balcony of his chambers, looking out over the drab castle grounds, fenced in by high stone walls on three sides and a wrought-iron gate on the fourth. Thick forest surrounded the castle in all directions, but even further was the barest outline of mountains. Arthur tried to imagine what it would be like to see them up close, maybe to see wide open spaces and fields. He knew they existed somewhere beyond this place that was both home and prison. But he'd never be allowed to venture beyond the castle walls. His father had always told him it was too dangerous out there, the world full of evil sorcerers like the one that had cursed them.

A svelte black cat jumped up onto the balcony rim. "You're going to catch a cold out here," he said.

Arthur didn't respond. Maybe if he got sick, his father might spare him some attention…some care.

The cat looked out at the distance. "Why don't you go?" he said. "Just pack up and leave."

Arthur sighed. "You know why I can't, Merlin."

Merlin stood on all fours and arched his back, tail swishing. "I'll protect you from the evil sorcerers," he said with a toothy mien.

Arthur couldn't help the twitch of his lips, and he shook his head in mild amusement. Movement in his peripheral vision caught his attention, and he turned to look at the gate where a figure was fumbling with the lock. Arthur immediately tensed; visitors to the castle did not tend to be friendly. But after a few moments of no success, the figure slid down the bars to the ground and ceased to move.

Curious and guarded, Arthur went back inside and grabbed his coat, then made his way downstairs and outside to investigate, Merlin loping beside him to keep up. They found a young man about Arthur's age, not yet at his majority, collapsed against the gate and nearly blue from the cold. Arthur didn't know what to do…he'd only ever caught glimpses of other men before, armed and determined when they infiltrated the castle grounds. This one didn't look like those. In fact, he looked dead.

Merlin bounded over and sniffed the young man. "He's still alive! But almost frozen through. We should get him inside."

Arthur stiffened. "We can't. My father would be furious."

"But if we leave him here, he'll die," Merlin persisted.

Arthur was torn; he didn't want to just let someone die, but if his father found out he'd let a stranger into the castle… Arthur didn't even want to think about that.

A wolf's howl went up from deep in the surrounding forest. Merlin shot Arthur a pointed look. Swallowing hard, he cast a nervous glance back toward the castle, then hesitantly unlocked the gate and slipped out just far enough to grab the young man's arms and drag him inside. Arthur then quickly locked up again, scanning the thicket for those wolves, but they were still a good distance away.

Arthur turned around and groaned; his presence at the gate had caught the attention of one of the knights, who was now coming toward him, the stiff jointed armor clacking with each step. Arthur grimaced. It was Sir Leon, the First Knight. His face and a tuft of hair were the only human features visible through the suit of armor encasing the rest of him, and they were of the same metallic sheen.

The knight came to a stop in front of Arthur, expression silent and stoic, but Arthur could just imagine what he would say if he could speak—that Arthur should toss this stranger back out.

But Arthur couldn't do that.

"Don't just stand there, help me," he ordered. He was, after all, still the prince.

Leon reached down to pick up the boy in his armored arms and carry him.

Arthur's stomach churned with trepidation as they headed back to the castle with their guest. His father usually kept to himself, so there was a chance he'd never find out about this…

They went into the common room where a servant stood ready at the hearth. With one stone arm melded with the mantel, he used the other to pile wood into the fireplace and light it. Arthur gestured for Leon to lay the young man in front of it, but other than that, he didn't actually know what to do to help him. He'd never been in this type of situation before.

"Blankets," Merlin prompted.

Arthur looked around the room and grabbed a throw off a settee, which he clumsily draped over the stranger. A large dog with floofy fur that'd been lying in the corner got up and came over to lie next to the boy. Arthur ran a hand through his hair before turning to Sir Leon, who was giving him a stern glare.

"Don't give me that," Arthur huffed. "As soon as he's warmed up, we'll send him on his way."

Leon, of course, didn't say anything. There were only three beings in this castle who had the agency of speech. Arthur had spent his entire life talking to either statues or his cat. His father…well, his father wasn't very approachable.

"Just…stand guard and make a noise if my father is coming," he said.

Leon pivoted sharply with a metallic clink and marched to the door.

Arthur stayed where he was, shifting anxiously until the stranger finally started to stir. The young man woke and looked around in confusion, gaze settling on Arthur, who just stood there awkwardly. The boy moved an arm around to feel the large dog pressed against his side and gave it a few pets, then slowly sat up.

"Hi."

"Hello," Arthur responded stiffly.

"Is this…your castle?"

"Yes. I'm Prince Arthur."

The lad's eyes widened a fraction and he looked embarrassed. "I'm Lancelot. My apologies for disturbing you. I was lost. Thank you," he added, gesturing to the blanket and fire.

Arthur eyed him warily.

Lancelot shifted in discomfort. "I- I don't have any money to repay your kindness, my lord."

"There's no need," Arthur quickly said. "But you need to leave before my father returns."

Lancelot looked taken aback, then resigned as he dropped his gaze and nodded. "Of course. Thank you again."

Arthur was discomfited by this as well. "I'll find you a coat to take," he said. "So you don't almost freeze to death again."

"That's very generous of you," Lancelot said meekly.

Arthur felt bad for tossing the boy out again so soon, but he really needed to leave.

Metallic stomping suddenly sounded from the door, and Arthur spun around just as Leon retreated and his father appeared, his massive bulk filling the entire frame with menace. Two slender hind legs supported the hulking body of a broad-shouldered beast. Tufts of fur protruded from tears in his royal clothes, his red cloak the only article not ripped from his ill-fitting form. With fangs, blazing orange eyes, and horns atop his head, Arthur's father was a fearsome visage.

Merlin dove under a piece of furniture and the dog backed away with a whimper. Lancelot's eyes were blown wide.

"Father, I…" Arthur started but was cut off by an animalistic snarl as Uther charged inside the room.

Lancelot tried to scramble away, but Uther clamped a meaty half paw, half hand around the back of his neck and lifted him off his feet.

"How dare you trespass in my castle!"

"I-I'm sorry," Lancelot bleated in terror. "I didn't mean to…"

"I brought him inside!" Arthur shouted, heedless of drawing his father's ire on himself. "He was outside the gate, half frozen. I just wanted to help him and then send him on his way."

Uther gnashed his teeth at his son. "You would risk letting an enemy walk right in? After everything you know about the outside world?"

"P-please," Lancelot choked. "I mean you no harm. I was lost and only looking for shelter—"

"I'll give you shelter," Uther snarled and flung Lancelot around, keeping a vise-like grip on the back of his neck and dragging him out of the common room.

Arthur hurried after them, wanting to stop this but knowing it was no use; his father couldn't be reasoned with.

Uther hauled Lancelot all the way down to the dungeon and tossed him into a cell, then slammed the door shut with a raucous clang. Arthur grimaced and gave Lancelot a remorseful look. He almost opened his mouth to apologize, but his father snapped his fangs at him, and so he obediently followed him back upstairs.

"I'll deal with your foolishness later," Uther growled. "But first, what beast should I turn this trespasser into?" he mused to himself. "A hairless rat, perhaps, since he was complaining about the cold."

"Father, no," Arthur pleaded. "He's not a knight who came here to kill you."

Uther whirled on him, spittle flying from his snout. "You can't know that. No one can be trusted! You should know better, Arthur!"

"Lancelot didn't even have a weapon with him," Arthur pressed, knowing he was treading a very treacherous line, but he couldn't bear to let Lancelot suffer for his actions.

"He's still an outsider. He can't be allowed to leave and tell others what he's seen. We would have an army on our doorstep!"

"Then don't free him!" Arthur blurted. "I could use a servant, someone able to actually do things rather than these statues that can barely move around."

Uther's expression turned contemplative, and Arthur held his breath.

"Very well," his father finally relented.

Arthur nearly sagged in sheer relief, but he also felt even more horrible for what he had just condemned Lancelot to. He'd only wanted to help the young man, and now they both were to be prisoners of this place for eternity.