Arthur hated birthdays.
Oh, he enjoyed the attention and the gifts. The feasts weren't half bad either. If he could just focus on those things and ignore the rest of it, turning another year older might actually be a happy occasion.
Unfortunately, he was never allowed to forget that his birthday was also the anniversary of his mother's death.
It was the same every year. King Uther would make a valiant effort to behave cheerfully, and indeed, some of it may have even been genuine. But there was always a heavy sadness in his eyes throughout the day, a wistful, faraway expression that dominated his features whenever he thought no one else was paying attention. He never spoke of Ygraine, but she was there until the sun rose the next morning, her presence invisible, yet strong enough to overpower all of the feasting and laughing and silly games that went on until dawn.
Sometimes Arthur thought it might be better if his father stopped hiding and simply acknowledged his grief. Perhaps if he were willing to talk about it, to share the good memories as well as the bad, there might be some sort of healing in the experience.
But it would never happen; Arthur had known that on the day he'd turned 17, when he'd tentatively asked Uther what type of desserts his mother had preferred during special occasions. All the color had drained from the older man's face as he'd ordered his son never to mention such a thing again.
And as with most things, Arthur had obeyed without question.
The day he turned 21, he rose early and decided to sneak out of the city for an early morning ride. It took quite a bit of maneuvering – ditching the guards wasn't difficult, of course, but getting away from the new manservant his father had recently hired on his behalf made for an unanticipated challenge. For all that the boy was a bumbling idiot, he was surprisingly attentive.
It felt good to be alone as he rode down the familiar pathways that crisscrossed through the Darkling Wood – solitude was a rare luxury for a prince, particularly one who was as overprotected as Arthur Pendragon happened to be. He breathed deeply of the fresh morning air, closing his eyes and relishing the feeling of warm sunshine on his face as he emerged into a tiny meadow.
It was one of his favorite places in the world, for no other reason than it was the location where he'd taken down his first kill worth being proud of – a fine buck which had prompted his father to hold a grand feast in his son's honor. "Arthur is a man today!" he'd boldly proclaimed, raising his jeweled goblet high in the air to make the first toast. It hadn't mattered that he couldn't have been more than 10 years old at the time – it remained one of the happiest memories of his life.
Arthur dismounted and tethered his horse to a nearby tree before he hesitated, not sure what to do with himself now that he'd reached his destination. He was accustomed to spending a great deal of time in the forest, of course, but never without a specific purpose such as a hunting trip or a routine patrol.
Sit. Yes, that's what he would do. He'd sit down and close his eyes, enjoy the morning sunlight and the light fragrance of wildflowers and just be Arthur for a little while. Not Prince Arthur, commander of troops, future king, gracious host, whatever else the world required him to be. He'd just be himself.
No more than a couple minutes had passed before his eyes flew open in consternation. Himself? He wasn't even sure who that was. What he was supposed to be, what everyone expected of him, yes... that was plain enough. But who was he, exactly, when there was no need to participate in any number of the roles which were required of his station?
I enjoy hunting, he assured himself. A friendly wager can be fun sometimes, and a bit of hard practice is certainly enjoyable. I like roasted boar and strawberry tarts, a good flagon of mead or a great joke. I like girls... yes, quite a bit.
But there were so many missing pieces, parts of himself he didn't quite recognize or fully understand. It had always been this way; perhaps that was why he'd longed to learn more about his mother over the years. He had some things in common with his father, but there were so many more qualities in his character that he couldn't link back to King Uther at all. Were these traits he'd inherited from his mother? Was she the reason his hair was a lighter shade of gold than his father's had ever been... or why he loved stewed beets, while the older man found them repulsive?
Or maybe some of these things belonged to other members of her side of the family; Arthur had met his uncle when he'd been small, too young to remember anything other than a tall, imposing man dressed from head to toe in black. Would he find parts of himself in that man, if Uther would permit him to visit again?
Arthur's thoughts trailed off upon the realization that he was more than a little thirsty. Why hadn't he brought along a waterskin?
... because servants usually took care of that sort of thing. Of course.
Sighing heavily, he got to his feet, resigned to the necessity of having to leave his private sanctuary to see to the needs of his body. He was a little hungry, too, come to think of it. Some beans and bacon might be...
And then he frowned as he heard a soft trickle of water emerging from a nearby thicket. He didn't remember there being any water sources in the immediate area, but it seemed he'd managed to miss the tiny spring he saw as he parted the leafy branches. It was lovely, water shimmering with iridescent prisms of color as it flowed gently over a precipice that couldn't have been any higher than his waist, creating a miniature waterfall that poured into the crystal clear pool just below.
Arthur knelt down and cupped his hands, bringing the deliciously cold liquid to his mouth once, twice, several times, before leaning back against the trunk of a solid oak and closing his eyes as he let out a sigh of appreciation.
Queen Ygraine smiled graciously as she extended one bejeweled hand to the prostrate man at her feet. "You may rise, Lord Banik. We bid you welcome."
Beside her stood her husband, stern faced and regal as they greeted the seemingly endless procession of knights, courtiers, and other members of the nobility who had come to pay tribute to Prince Arthur on the happy occasion of his birthday. The guest of honor himself nodded respectfully and exchanged pleasant words with each newcomer, though his mother couldn't help catching his eye and smirking in his direction, knowing all too well how tedious he found all the pomp and circumstance.
Arthur smiled back at her, taking a great deal of comfort in knowing she understood his boredom and didn't think any less of him for it. King Uther expected high standards from his only son, constant training and grooming and lecturing, all for the purpose of preparing him for the kingship he was destined to inherit.
But Ygraine was different. In a tightly confined world that came with increasing pressure and responsibility as Arthur grew into a man, she was his only escape, a breath of fresh air amidst the stifling environment of court life. To her, he was simply her child... but it was something more than that. Being such similar creatures in nature, life was inherently simple for them both. A nice conversation… They appreciated the little things, far more than the politics and complexities that were so rampant at the heart of their powerful kingdom.
King Uther would sternly instruct his son on countless codes and proper protocol; Queen Ygraine would only say, "Follow your heart, Arthur, in every way. If you can do that, you will rule with more justice and compassion than any king has ever done."
That made sense... so much more than silly little laws as to why commoners couldn't try out for the knighthood, or the intricacies involved in arranging the most effective political marriage.
Sometimes, she took it upon herself to share all of the qualities she believed he'd inherited from various family members. Her own gentle heart, Tristan's impetuous nature, Agravaine's steadfast loyalty, particularly to the women he considered most important in his life. And yes, King Uther as well. From his father came his strength, she claimed, his determination and refusal to yield when something truly mattered to him.
From his mother, he learned to recognize all the different parts of himself, then to study those around him to determine the positives and negatives involved in each trait.
From Tristan, he learned the necessity of patience. Agravaine showed him that it wasn't merely that a man was loyal that mattered so much, but exactly who and what he was loyal to. And his beloved parents... they countered one another perfectly, their deepest natures combining in their son in a way that ensured that the flaws that came from either extreme were much more easily avoided.
Ygraine's gentle spirit ensured that Arthur would find ways to resist succumbing to the harsher, more rigid elements of his father's personality. And Uther's fierce pride guaranteed that those who sought to exploit the young king in future years due to his innate sense of compassion would find such a thing to be much more difficult than they might have anticipated.
But when Arthur focused on these things a little too much, Ygraine would smile and encourage him to put them aside. "It doesn't matter so much where you came from, only where you will go in life. Think not of the man we have created, only who he will decide to be."
Arthur wouldn't understand her meaning as a youth barely on the cusp of manhood... but in future years, when he fought all the battles that were not based on the causes he'd inherited, but those he truly believed to be right, it was always his mother's voice that would echo in his ears.
"Follow your heart, Arthur."
But he would never know it was she who spoke to him in that soft, phantom voice.
"Arthur? Arthur!"
He kept his eyes closed, willing the blasted manservant away. Really, what on earth had convinced his father it would be a good idea to hire the bumbling fool?
"Arthur?"
"Go away," he grumbled peevishly. "I revoke your permission to enter my chambers."
"Arthur..." Merlin said insistently, accompanied by the loud sound of... rustling leaves and breaking branches? "You're not in your chambers. You slipped out for a little ride this morning, and you must have fallen asleep. Come on, we need to get back to Camelot before your father realizes you're gone."
He muttered to himself as he opened his eyes, a vague memory of sitting down to relax against a tree flickering in his mind. Fell asleep... yes, well it was no wonder he'd needed a nap, with this idiot's never ceasing energy and relentless conversation hounding him day and night. All the same, it was careless to have allowed himself to fall asleep here in the middle of the forest, alone and unguarded. He had responsibilities, his people, a kingdom to think of.
"Foolish mistake," he mumbled as he rose to his feet. "How did you find me?"
Merlin shot him a guilty look. "I followed you."
"Merlin!"
"Sorry."
Naturally, the insufferably cheeky servant didn't sound apologetic in the least. Arthur let it pass, readying to mount his horse, then pausing and studying the boy's face more closely.
"I never saw you. Didn't hear you either. Why not?"
"I was quiet, sire. I... I didn't want to disturb you. You looked like you needed some time to yourself."
"So you just waited?"
"Yes."
"Hrrumph," was all he offered in response, though the admission made him feel... he wasn't sure. Exposed? Merlin was like that sometimes. Whenever Arthur had once again managed to dismiss him as entirely useless, he did something, said something that made it clear he understood much more about his master than anyone else did. It was uncomfortable, to be sure, but in a strange way... nice. It certainly made him feel a lot less alone than he normally did on his birthday.
"Sire?"
Arthur huffed, turning his face away so Merlin wouldn't see the evidence of his embarrassment spreading in red splotches across his cheeks. "Well, I hope you can find your way back by yourself," he said impassively, just before he took off at a headlong gallop.
But no more than a quarter of a mile into his ride, he brought the horse to a standstill and waited patiently for his obnoxious, but occasionally not completely hopeless new servant.