Callum lay in his bed that night, his eyes scanning the ceiling above. His mind was alive with thoughts and worries. Worries that had invaded his conscious the moment he'd first laid eyes on the queen. The moment he'd seen the devotion in Arthur's eyes as he looked upon her.

What if… Callum chewed his lip. What if he doesn't have any time for me anymore? Now that she's back?

Callum knew such thoughts weren't right or fair… but he couldn't help the bolt of jealousy that shot through him as he thought of Gwen.

Because he wanted Arthur to love him that much, to care about him with all his heart. He wanted the king's attention more than he'd ever wanted anything else in his life.

As Callum lay there, his eyes closed, but his racing mind didn't quit. Instead, it brought the boy more worries in the form of a distant memory.


"Father?" A little boy, only seven years of age, crept into his house. He'd been playing with some of the town's children. The baker's son, Carl Swan, had come up with a great idea. The group of them had taken turns trying to climb the tallest tree in the area, which towered right outside the city walls. Carl, being the oldest and strongest, had of course made it the highest.

Callum admired Carl. He was brave, selfless, and overwhelmingly kind. Many of the kids were only children, and Carl had become a substitute big brother for them.

"You're doing well, kid." He'd laughed as Callum managed to get higher than all the other kids beside himself. "You've got guts."

"Thanks!" Callum chirped, carefully climbing back down the tree. He skipped happily over to the older boy. "One day I'll give you a run for your gold, Bread Boy!"

"You…" Carl scoffed, pulling him into a playful headlock. "Oh, you can try, sonny! But it ain't never gonna happen!"

"Hold there," a voice snarled, putting an end to the horseplay. All the kids looked around in terror. Odin's guards were standing beside the entrance to town, eyes narrowed.

"Getting late." One hissed. "You kids had best get along home. Before your parents find you've been leaving the safety of the city to…" he trailed off with a disdainful wave of his hand. "Whatever this nonsense you're doing is."

"Yes, sir." Carl said, letting Callum free and smiling cockily up at the guards. "Just goofing off. You outta know about that... man, you and some of the other fellas were sure having a time of it at the tavern last week, Greg."

The guard, Greg's, mouth fell down in an upside down U shape. He stomped over, grabbing Carl by the arm and pulling him up so that they were face to face.

"What." He roared, shaking the boy. "Was that!"

"I said-." Carl started rebelliously. He stopped, his eyes flitting towards the other children, all of whom were shaking in fear. The boy's shoulders slumped. "Nothing." He shook his head bitterly. "I didn't say nothing."

"That's what I thought." The guard threw him to the ground. "Now. Get! All of you little miscreants!"

"How come you always do that, Carl?" Callum asked his friend as they walked home. Carl had his head down and his hands clenched into fists at his side.

"Umm?" He asked, not entirely acknowledging the boy at his side.

"How come you always make um mad?" Callum asked. "Like, on purpose?"

"Because what they do, how they treat the lower class- how they treat us-ain't right." Carl explained. He sounded awful solemn for a boy barely twelve. "My father says that if we don't stand up for what's right, no one else will either… You have to set an example, Cal. You can't just sit around and wait for others to do it for you."

Those words circled Callum's head like hungry sharks until he arrived home. His house was completely dark, and the only light came from the torches lit outside.

"Father?" Callum called again.

"What?" Callum jumped as his father shot awake from where he'd been sleeping at the table in the middle of the room.

"Oh…I'm sorry." Callum chewed his lip. "I didn't know you were asleep, sir. I'm home."

"Your…" Callum's dad was a huge man, with a scraggly beard and beady eyes. Eyes that, at that moment, were red rimmed and unfocused. He was holding a beer in his hand… the whole place stunk of liquor.

"Your home?" The man roared. With a snarl, he lobbed the bottle at his son. Callum ducked his head, cringing as the bottle smashed on the wall behind him. "You think I care?" His dad growled, struggling to get to his feet. "It would be a dream come true if you never came back! You worthless whelp! You murdering little devil! It's your fault your mother is dead! You know that?"

"I know." Callum said simply, his head bowed as he took the verbal onslaught. He forced himself not to flinch as his father lumbered over to him and grabbed him by the shirt collar. He knew what was coming. He was going to get a beating for waking the man.

"I'm sorry!" Callum tried, looking up at his father through pleading eyes, even though he knew it would do no good. "It really wasn't on purpose…I didn't know you were sleeping."

"Oh, forget that." To Callum's surprise, the anger actually drained from his father's eyes. He gave him one little shake, before setting him back on his feet. Callum blinked slowly in surprise.

"Listen," his father kneeled down so that they were eye level. "You've sinned greatly, Callum. You killed your own mum… but it isn't too late for you to make up for your transgressions. Do you remember how I told you that I've been borrowing from the king? That he has taken care of us in exchange for a debt?"

"Yes, sir." Callum didn't know what that meant exactly. All he knew was that the king had been giving them food and what not, because his father had been a knight.

"Well," his father smiled grimly. "The king now expects that debt paid… and I simply do not have the gold to pay him back. Odin requires payment, you understand?"

"Um…yeah?" Callum swallowed.

"Good…" his father nodded approvingly, patting him on the shoulder. "That's my boy…listen Callum. You're going to have to work that debt off. You're going to have to pay our debt away."

"Oh…ok?" Callum perked up. "Like… Like be a knight?" He asked hopefully.

"Perhaps one day." His father allowed. "But tomorrow, when I take you to the king, I expect you to do whatever he tells you. Consider him your father now. You do as he says, no disrespect and no questions. If you do that, you'll be home before you know it." His dad grabbed his shoulders and locked eyes with him. "You'll do that, won't you?"

"Sure!" Callum was excited, eager to please his father…

Little did he know what he was agreeing to… the hell he would suffer at the hands of Odin made his father's discipline look reasonable.

When he was eight, a year after being sold into service, Callum had been forced to stand by Odin and watch as Carl Swan was sentenced to death for rebellion… he still remembered the way the teenager had smiled the whole time… even his corpse, hanging from the end of the rope, had been smiling.


"No!" Callum awoke with a yell, hearing the knights giggle as his friend was killed. Breathing hard, the boy stared about the room. His heart slowly dropped back to a regular beat, as he realized he was in his chambers in Camelot.

He wasn't in Odin's kingdom anymore…

He was safe.

"Callum?"

Callum jumped as the door was opened and Arthur's head poked in. The king was frowning.

"Are you alright?" He asked. "I heard a scream."

Callum's shoulders slumped in remorse.

Great, he thought. Now you woke the king… can't you do anything right?

"I'm ok." He said softly.

"Uh hu." Arthur shut the door behind him and came to sit on the bed beside the boy. "What happened?"

"Nothing… just a dream." Callum shook his head bitterly. "Just a stupid dream. I'm sorry I woke you."

"Don't be. You're my ward," Arthur pointed out, concern in his eyes. "You're my responsibility. What was the dream about?"

Callum hesitated briefly, before the whole nightmare came spilling from his mouth. Arthur listened patiently to the tale before speaking.

"That must have been very hard." He said. "Especially for a boy so young… I'm sorry that had to happen to you, little one."

"I tried so hard." Callum sobbed, tears dripping from his eyes. "I tried to make my father proud… but it was like nothing I ever did pleased him…"

A glaze crossed Arthur's eyes for a moment, before he spoke in a firm voice.

"That isn't your fault. Your father sounds like he was taking out his own dilemmas, his own hurts, on you. You didn't ask to be born. You certainly didn't ask for your mother to die. But sometimes, those things can't be helped, they just… happen. It was nobody's fault. Your mother's death was a tragedy, but it wasn't anyone's fault. Especially not yours, Callum." Arthur gently ran a hand along the boy's arm. "Don't ever blame yourself for that, and don't let the words of others become the focus of your thoughts. Do you honestly think I would be wasting so much time on you, have my best knights schooling you, if I didn't truly believe you have great potential?"

Callum considered that.

"No." He said slowly. "But… what if you're wrong?"

"I'm not." Arthur said simply. "Now, while I have your attention, there's another matter I wish to discuss with you."

"Oh, yeah." Callum chewed his lip. "My punishment…"

"Yes, that." Arthur stood up. "Here's what I've decided. For the next three days, instead of training, you will spend the day with Gaius. You will help with whatever chores he finds for you. Understood?"

"Instead of training?" Callum said, disappointed. "But I've missed it so much! Can't you just… paddle me or something instead?"

"It's against the law to thrash a prince." Arthur murmured, more to himself than to Callum.

"I'm not a prince though." Callum protested. He couldn't stand the thought of getting behind in his fencing work. "Please?"

"Ha. No." Arthur smiled smugly down at him. "I think this will be much more effective. You'll certainly think twice before putting yourself in danger again, eh?"

"If you're going to make me work with smelly potions every time I do, and miss my training, then you're on your own, Arthur." Callum complained. He squealed as Arthur jumped on him, pinning him down and playfully growling.

"Is that anyway to talk to your king?"

Callum grinned, wiggling free and jumping on the older man. He'd seen kids in town playing around with their fathers like this, but he'd never gotten the chance.

He quickly rolled off of the king as the door was flung open and Gwen walked in. She paused as she took in the scene before her. A slow smile spread across the woman's face.

"Arthur." She greeted, raising an eyebrow. Arthur's face was red with embarrassment at having been caught acting so childishly. Heck, Callum was embarrassed and he was still young enough where it was probably ok to act so immaturely.

"Guinevere." Arthur got up, smiling sheepishly. "We were just…"

"Practicing battle moves?" Callum suggested. Arthur gave him a sideways look.

"Yes…I can see that." Gwen nodded towards the hall. "Come on, Arthur. It's still late… let's go back to bed."

"Certainly." Arthur paused, glancing back at his ward. "Are you going to be alright?"

Callum smiled back at him.

"Yeah." He said. "I think I'm ok now."

And, for the first time, he meant it.

For the first time, he felt like he truly belonged somewhere.


"You love that kid, don't you?" Gwen asked as she walked with Arthur back to their room. She'd never before seen such a glow in her husband's eyes as there was when he was with Callum…

Like a father was with his son.

Arthur paused at their door, his hand hovering by the handle.

"Are…" he glanced at her. "Are you ok with that?"

Gwen thought that over. She'd always wanted to have her own baby one day… be a mother…

But that didn't look like it was going to happen.

So why keep that love from a child who so desperately wants it? Gwen mused.

"You love him." Gwen declared. "I think I could learn to love him too."