Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

“You’ll never catch me, Lancelot!” Arthur giggled, leather clad feet stomping down the echoey hallway. The ebony hoglet giving chase heaved, imploring his legs to push harder. His vision shook, and his heart pounded in his chest. Arthur was taller, and far stronger than he. Lancelot had heard the laundress praise his good breeding. Surely Lancelot’s bloodline could never compare to his royal highness, The Prince. His brow furrowed. No matter.

With long strides, he appeared by Arthur’s side. The Prince chuckled, before blowing a raspberry at his companion. A beat passed, and in a moment’s notice edgeless zinc blades were clattering against one another. With a sadistic grin, Arthur used a strong leg to sweep Lancelot’s feet right out from underneath him. The younger hedgehog hit the ground with a quiet yelp, glaring up at his companion. “Told ya you’d never-”

“PRINCE ARTHUR..!” The hoglets flinched, Arthur’s cocky attitude immediately falling away. His arm was roughly grabbed. “Quit playing with this sick child, you were supposed to meet your father nearly ten minutes ago! Come along..! You’ll get us both in trouble..!” The play sword in Arthur’s hand was tossed against the tile, clattering inches away from Lancelot. “Go do away with this. It is not the place of a young Prince to be dueling with the likes of-” The woman gestured to all of Lancelot. “Well- never mind.” She and Arthur quickly disappeared down the hall, leaving the ebony hoglet alone on the floor.

With a quiet snarl, Lancelot heaved himself to his feet. Collecting the swords, he observed the stark contrast between his.. and Arthur’s. He held no value here, he knew it to be true. He was born to serve the crown. So why did it bother him so much..? He traced the golden hilt of Arthur’s blade. Privileged. Lancelot had never once had anything so exquisite made for him. He wasn’t important enough. He turned his gaze to the other sword resting in his opposite hand. Poorly crafted. Carelessly made by the dozen, there was nothing unique about his weapon. If he could even call it that. Trouble children like him weren't allowed to have their blades sharpened, so it remained dull, and unreflective. Arthur’s sword clattered to the tile floor once more. Lancelot’s ears pinned back as the weapon’s blade shattered against the unforgiving floor.

The walk home was a long one. Lancelot’s legs were weak and trembling by the time he reached the safety of his Mother’s arms. He left before dawn, and returned before dusk. If it weren’t for the echoey bellows of wolves in the distance, he’d likely faint from exertion. Someone as small and weak as he surely would make an easy meal. He heaved the door open, quietly toeing to the kitchen. He hadn’t eaten all day, and his eyes widened at the sight of a loaf of freshly baked bread.

With a small huff he pulled himself atop the counter, and dipped undersized paws into the sink basin. After a quick wash down, he flicked the moisture on his hands away. Just as Lancelot reached over to the glass bread-box, he was scooped away. 

“What are you up to, my little mischief maker?~”

Lancelot shrieked, until he melted into the embrace of his mother.

“Are you hungry? Why didn’t you ask..?” Nimue quietly spoke, replacing the hoglet on her hip. Lancelot tiredly melted into her side, a soft yawn escaping his lips. “I didn’t wish to disturb you..”

The woman clicked her tongue quietly. “You could never disturb me, darling.”

She placed him on the floor. “Let me fix you something to eat.”

The hoglet climbed atop a barstool, before removing the small sword from his hip, and placing it on the countertop. Nimue placed a plate of dinner in front of him.

“Now Lancelot, what did I tell you about weapons atop the table..?”

The hoglet shyly resigned, pulling it down, and placing it on the floor as gently as he could from the height he was seated at.

Nimue gently ran a satin gloved hand through his headquills. “Eat up, my dear. Tomorrow is another day to give it your all.”

The trek began once more. Lancelot felt his bones chill as he waded through the wet marsh beyond his home. The sun had yet to peek beyond the horizon, imposing mountains far too much to reach above so early in the morning. Lancelot longed to be back in the warmth of his bed. Water sloshed around in his boots, seeping into his wool socks and leaving them drenched. He whimpered, pulling his arms up to his chest for warmth. Today was exciting. He got to play with Arthur again. Rarely was he able to see him two afternoons in a row, and the thrill of being able to spend time with his closest companion kept him moving despite the chill. His heart fluttered. Arthur was always so kind to him.

 Despite the constant mockery of his health, Arthur treated him no differently. If Lancelot could spend every waking moment by his side, he’s positive that he would. Something about the Prince was just so… alluring. He had such a warm soul, and his laugh was a glimpse into heaven itself. Lancelot did find himself jealous of the boy, but it was never out of ill will toward him. He cared deeply for Arthur. He hoped they’d stay close forever.

Morning grew into afternoon, and like clockwork, Arthur appeared. 

“Sorry Lance!” He wrapped his arm around the smaller hedgehog’s shoulder. “I was in boring classes all day.” Lancelot smiled softly, bowing. “It is very nice to see you, Arthur.”

Arthur grinned, handing Lancelot half of the sandwich he had been eating.

“Here..! You look like you could use it! Does your mom not feed you or something??” Lancelot grumbled quietly, taking a bite out of the food. “Just cause’ I was born small doesn’t mean I’m hungry. Mama says one day I’ll be six feet tall, and strong.” Arthur chuckled. “I bet you’ll be the best knight of them all!” Lancelot quietly huffed in satisfaction.

“Him? The best knight??” A fox that looked to be about their age spoke. “He couldn’t even hold a CANDLE to me.” He roughly shoved Lancelot back, laughing as he clattered to the ground. “Stop that..!” Arthur cried, standing up and moving in between the two. “He hasn’t done anything wrong! You can’t just push people!” The fox chuckled darkly. “Oh yeah~? What are you gonna do about it, pipsqueak??” He shoved Arthur back as well, keening as he fell on top of Lancelot. “You two really shouldn’t talk so much. People like you, and your little friend are eaten alive in the corps.”

Arthur pulled himself up. “Shut up, you idiot..! Don’t say stuff like that! It’s wrong!” Arthur yelped as the stranger grabbed him by the shirt collar. “Why? You know it’s true. You can’t fight me.” Arthur whimpered, shoes dangling nearly a foot from the ground.

“Let him GO!” Lancelot snarled, flaring his sharp spines as high as he could. He charged into the fox, forcing him to relinquish Arthur as they rolled into an immature mess of punches and bites. 

Lancelot locked his jaw on the fox’s hand, drawing blood as he used all his strength to push his teeth deep inside the skin.

 Lancelot knew knights didn’t bite. They fought with honor. He couldn’t stop himself, though. The fox screeched, drawing his dulled sword and smacking Lancelot across the face with it. Arthur began to cry out and was fully prepared to jump into the fray when a booming voice startled all three of them.

“ENOUGH!”

 Lancelot released his bite, and tumbled back to the ground. Before he could even get his head to stop spinning, he saw the King fiercely storming over to the three of them. Lancelot and the Fox were on their hands and knees in the blink of an eye, heads downturned. Arthur clenched his fists, but bowed regardless of his own inhibitions.

“Arthur! What is the meaning of this fray?!” His gaze narrowed as he eyed Lancelot with scrutiny. “Father-“ “Your majesty.” The intimidating man immediately cut in. Arthur bowed and resumed his sentence. “Your Majesty- Lancelot was only defending me..! I would’ve been really hurt if it weren’t for—“ “Silence.” Arthur swallowed thickly and nervously bit at his lip. The King drew his sword. Lancelot trembled. Unexpectedly, the imposing man merely lifted Lancelot’s chin with the deadly blade. “Is what my son speaks truth?”

Lancelot swallowed and frantically nodded. “Y-yes- your majesty!”

Uther hummed, sheathing his blade.

“That will be all.” He turned his gaze to the fox, nervously trying to cease the bleeding from his bite wounds.

“You.” He snapped his fingers, and his personal attendants were at his side. Knights of the round table, no doubt.

“Off with his head.”

The boy screamed, desperately trying to get away as he was grabbed, and pinned. He could barely utter an apology as he squealed unceremoniously. Arthur nearly heaved as a blade swiped precisely through its target, and smacked against the sandy dirt.

“Come now, Arthur. It is time we have a discussion.” 

.

.

“Father!” Arthur cried out when the two were alone in Uther’s study. He clenched his fists, his small blue frame trembling. “How- How could you?!” He threw his hands up, pulling at his ears in distress. “He was just a foolish child..! How could you take his life so quickly..!?”

In the intense burst of his rampage, Arthur failed to notice the extent of the glare his father was wearing. His ears flattened in submission and he looked to the floor. Uther snarled, leaning back in his chair. It sat behind the work desk in the center of the room.

 “Are you finished yet?”

Arthur solemnly nodded.

“I only did what was right, Arthur. You are a prince.” The King stood, looming over Arthur as he placed strong gloved paws on the hardwood of the table. 

“By insulting you, he was insulting me. Are you okay with someone insulting your father? What kind of son does that make you?” Arthur swallowed thickly, avoiding Uther’s gaze. “Enough with your cowering. When you are addressed you will answer. Do I make myself clear?” Arthur nodded.

“Yes your Majesty..” Uther hummed.

“You really should quit behaving so foolishly, Arthur. If I didn’t know better, I’d think you to be a woman.” The hoglet’s small frame tensed. Uther placed a hand atop his head. “Men do not cry. Men do not scream. Men do not defend the lives of lowly knights who fight without honor.” Uther’s touch retreated as he continued to aimlessly wander through his monologue.

“That boy is sick, Arthur. You and I both know it. Nimue is a kind woman to house and feed him, but she must know he won’t survive to adulthood.” The King finally finished his meaningless rounds, sitting back at the desk.

“You are not to see him any longer, Arthur. You are not to look at him. You are not to speak to him. If I hear from any witness that you have disobeyed me, I will not hesitate to punish you like any other man in this castle.”

Tears welled up in Arthur’s eyes. He blinked them away. “Yes, your Majesty.” Arthur clenched his fists.

“You have studies to work on. I expect that you spend much more time on education from here on out. If I am to hand my crown to you, I expect you not to be an illiterate dimwit.” Uther shooed him away with a hand. “You are dismissed.” Arthur nodded solemnly, taking his leave.

Arthur clenched his fists, heels clicking as he marched down the granite hall. Did he truly care what his father thought of Lancelot..? Was this truly.. Worth it? The cobalt’s ears winged outward. He couldn’t stop seeing Lancelot without a word. It was just cruel. The boy didn’t have any other friends. He couldn’t throw him out to the wolves alone. If his own natural weakness didn’t do him in, surely the other children their age would finish the job.

Deep down, Arthur knew his father was right. Lancelot was sick. Arthur knew his dearest friend struggled with many mundane things. Some days his limbs trembled with weakness. Some days the lightest breeze seemed like it’d knock him over. But he also knew Lancelot had a heart of gold. Arthur had never had the privilege of meeting another so endlessly kind. Lancelot never stopped fighting for what he believed in. His size or strength didn’t seem to occur to him. He had the nerve to risk everything, and Arthur found it very respectable. Almost attractive in a way. He always seemed to gravitate to his side. He wouldn’t mind spending forever by his side.

The hedgehog shook his head, slowing his pace as he snuck back outside. His father would kill him if he found out Arthur had deliberately disobeyed him. He scanned the yard quickly, eyes immediately locking on to the familiar figure of his friend. With quick, light steps he maneuvered past his father’s knights.

This needed to be chaste.

He abruptly grabbed the ebony’s shoulder, dragging him behind a stone wall. Lancelot seemed wildly taken aback, but before he could speak, Arthur placed a silencing finger against his lips. “I do not have time. Father mustn’t know I am here with you.” Lancelot’s ears pinned back, his brows furrowing in concern. Arthur sighed, frustrated tears of grief welling up in his eyes. “I am not to see you any longer, Lancelot. I must focus on my studies as a prince. This- this is goodbye.”

Lancelot shook his head, quickly attempting to grasp at Arthur’s wrist, and pull him closer. “But Arthur..!” Arthur roughly ripped his arm away, baring his teeth. “Just-! Get away..!” Lancelot fell back into the dirt, destabilized by the rough gesture. Sorrow and remorse welled in Arthur’s eyes for a moment, before he forced his eyes shut and turned on his heel. “Do not come looking for me again. I want nothing to do with you.”

Arthur ignored his own heartache. This was for the best. Lancelot was not safe as long as he tried to follow after Arthur. The King was not a patient man. He wanted to spit into the dirt. How could he speak to his companion with such venom..? Arthur didn’t look back. He knew he wouldn’t be able to bear it. 

Lancelot felt his breath catch in his throat. Hot, distraught tears welled in his eyes. Arthur was supposed to be by his side! He’d promised they’d be friends forvever-! And he was leaving him behind..? Was Lancelot truly not good enough to hang out with the prince..? He shuffled, attempting to stand on shaky legs as involuntarily sobs wreaked through him. This couldn’t be happening..! 

Arthur was his only friend..! His best friend? What had Lancelot done wrong? He rounded the corner of the stone wall, wiping his face with the palms of his hands. Disoriented, Lancelot yelped when he was kicked to the ground. “Look! It’s the little bitch again!” Lancelot took a shaky breath, quills raising defensively. An armored glove grabbed him by the quills on his scalp, pulling him up to eye level with a familiar face. “If it weren’t for you, Bartholomew would still be alive.”

His grip tightened painfully. Lancelot yelped as blood began to ooze from his scalp. Quills were extremely sensitive; embedded in the skin. Lancelot could certainly testify.

With a snarl, the hoglet attempted to yank himself away. His attacker didn’t yield. “I’m going to make you wish you were never born, Lancelot Du Lac.”

He felt a strong grip on his collar, and the rush of wind leaving his lungs as he hit the ground a few feet away. 

“Little Princey boy isn’t here to rescue you this time, is he?” There was a collective chuckle. A crowd was building. They wanted to watch Lancelot be beaten. The thought twisted his stomach. With a hiss of agony, he stood again. He needed to run. If they got ahold of him, there was no way he’d survive the beating. His heartbeat rang out through his ears, and he spun on his heel. With as much strength as he could muster, he fled.

Arthur roughly threw his body against the mattress in his bedroom. Violently grabbing a fistful of his comforter, he angrily shrieked into the feather filled fabric. This wasn’t fair! The hoglet hastily kicked off his shoes, before unbuttoning his overcoat and leaving that to the floor as well. Why must his father ruin everything for him..? He was happy to be friends with Lancelot. He knew the boy was stubborn enough to try and come see him after Arthur’s warning.

 ..Even still, he regretted his words. He regretted the look of pain in Lancelot’s eyes. He regretted the moment he first laid eyes on him. Guilt overwhelmed him. Lancelot wouldn’t survive the week. Not without Arthur there to protect him. More tears stung at his eyes. He couldn’t bear it. Maybe it would be best if he forgot he ever knew Lancelot at all. He turned his gaze to the school books atop his desk. Maybe it was best if he stepped up as his father desired. If he.. just forgot all thoughts of his friend. Socked paws hit the floor as Arthur slowly approached the assignments issued to him. This- ..this was for the best. He silently apologized to Lancelot as he collected his textbooks.
 

Chapter Text

Lancelot Du Lac. Truthfully, nobody completely understood the mysterious ebony hedgehog. To be frank, he was brash, and rather aggressive. Friendly competition with him was deadly on the best of days. The man never slept. A dark silhouette could always be seen in the dim light of the training yards. He never stopped.

Lancelot couldn’t stop. He downright refused. He’d destroy anyone, and anything that obstructed his path. He would be the best there ever was. He’d prove himself worthy. And as the knight felt the blade of his sword slice through another throat, he was certain of this fact. Hushed gasps of horror fell on deaf ears. He had a reputation to uphold. He sheathed his blade, carelessly walking over to the sidelines. His peers stepped aside as he walked by. 

“Lancelot.” a familiar voice called. The knight paid it no mind, but Perceval knew he was listening. The feline sat down at his side. “Lancelot. I know you hear my voice.” The ebony grumbled, an ear flicking toward his companion. “Did you really have to kill that boy-? He couldn’t have been older than ten and three years.” Lancelot moved to exit, and Perceval pinned him by the foot, quickly flipping up his visor. The hedgehog grumbled in petty disapproval. “He challenged me. It was his choice to die.” His friend sighed, a disappointed expression upon her face.
           
  “I am unsure what has gotten into you lately, but this is not the Lancelot I know. You want to succeed, I understand that! Your relentless pursuit of betterment is admirable, however-” Lancelot cut her off, abruptly standing. “You know nothing about me, Perceval. I merely elected to keep your secret. Something so insignificant does not make us anything more than comrades. Good day.” The feline grumbled, clenching her jaw. “You cannot continue taking your wrath out on your inferiors. We all know you’re upset about the marriag-''

Lancelot immediately spun on his heel, glowering over her with a threatening snarl. “Do not speak of that to me. The Prince’s personal affairs are none of our concern.” Perceval rolled her eyes, crossing her arms. “You cannot possibly believe Gawain and I are oblivious. You look at His Majesty in a much more than friendly way.” Lancelot guffawed. “I haven’t the first idea what you are talking about.” Percival laughed, thumbing away a small droplet of blood from Lancelot’s cheek. “You are a fascinating individual, Lancelot.” The ebony averted his gaze.

Lancelot quietly sighed, trekking back through the familiar marsh to his childhood home. It was Friday. He always spent Friday evenings with his Mother. With a quiet snap, he pulled off his helmet, and shook out his quills. What did Perceval know anyways..? She’d never once finished off an opponent. Others called it honorable. Lancelot called it cowardly. Young or not, that foolish boy shouldn’t have made an attempt on Lancelot’s name. He had long since finished allowing himself to be walked all over. He would never again be made a fool of. With a quiet click, he opened the door to his home.
     
The Knight hastily removed his outerwear, leaving his protective gauntlets, sword, helmet, chestplate, and boots by the entry. He quietly padded around in socked feet, ebony ears flicking about. There was a quiet rustle in another room. “Lancelot..? My dear? Is that you?” The male hedgehog smiled softly, approaching the sound. He took the woman’s hands, nodding, and humming a quiet affirmative. Nimue’s eyes softened as she gazed up at the boy. “How you’ve grown .” Lancelot flushed, ears flattening in embarrassment as his mother pulled his face down to her height and squished his cheeks. “You glow in the light. I always knew you were blessed.” A soft pink furred thumb rubbed at a fluffy ebony ear. “Now, come. You agreed to sew with me this evening!” Lancelot sighed, staring at nothing in particular with a deadpan expression. Seventeen year old boys weren’t typically interested in sewing. Unfortunately for Lancelot, he simply couldn’t refuse his mother.

Summer was ending. Lancelot felt the chill of a cool Autumn’s morning seep through his undergloves. And the toes of his boots. He avoided wading through the marsh. It was thick with rain, and muck. Avoiding the lasting discomfort of wet dirty socks, Lancelot elected to take the more scenic route. The freeze of the air ebbed as he stepped, the morning sun peeking above the horizon and casting a glow of warmth across the valley. The leather of his boots eventually made contact with the cobble of Main Street. He feigned ignorance to the way women seemed to clutch their children closer as he passed by. As he arrived at the castle grounds, the Knight was surprised to find himself interrupted. Lancelot tensed as an armored hand landed on his shoulder, quickly spinning around on his heel. His defensive posture quickly dropped, and he respectfully bowed his head. “Sir Godfrey.” The Knight nodded to Lancelot, and the hedgehog looked back upwards.

“The King requires your presence. Make haste, boy. Uther is not a patient man.” Lancelot opened his mouth to speak, but the wolf had already walked away. Lancelot paused. The King wished to see him? The last Lancelot had spoken to him, he himself was just a boy. Had he finally caught his eye? Had his efforts been noticed..? Lancelot quickly paced towards his destination. Excitement rushed through him. This was it! This is what he’d been working so hard for! He’d finally be recognized! Recognized as more than the ‘frail’ one. More than a liability.  

 

Lancelot came to the realization that he was mistaken quite quickly. The air in the office was thick, and tense. He quickly bowed, shifting on a knee respectfully. “Your Majesty.” Uther snapped his fingers, and pointed to a chair. Lancelot swallowed thickly.

“ Sit. ” He obliged quickly.

“You are a foolish boy. Impulsive . Unnecessarily aggressive . And above all, naive .”  Uther paused, taking a seat behind his desk. “ However .. I do respect a man who stops at nothing to obtain his goal. Despite this, your infatuation with dueling perfectly fine men to the death must end immediately.”  

The desire to defend himself — his honor — was strong, but Lancelot knew better than to speak out of turn to the King himself. He remained silent. 

“If you can successfully prove you are capable of behaving like a true knight, I will ensure your name is nothing less than one for my history books. You have great potential, Lancelot. I see a fire in your eyes.” Suddenly Uther was placing a hand on his shoulder. “You remind me of my son. I am quite impressed with how far you’ve come. I don’t believe even the greatest sorcerer could’ve predicted it.” His grip tightened, almost painfully so. “Do not disappoint me. You are to make improvements. Lest you make Nimue a lonely woman once again.”  Lancelot’s blood ran cold. “Yes, Your Majesty.” He bowed once again. 

“You are dismissed.” With that, Lancelot was gone. 

Study this. Perfect that. Bow like this. Behave like that. Arthur found himself closer to insanity every day. Not a moment passed without a constant reminder of his status, and role. The hedgehog leaned against the railing of his balcony, staring at the horizon longingly. How he wished to go. Arthur wasn’t exactly sure where he’d run off to, but it didn’t truly matter to him. Anywhere had to be better than this. His gaze flicked to the city, eyes curiously wandering the streets. Surely his father wouldn’t notice if he was gone for less than an hour.. right..? A mischievous grin spread over the Prince’s lips. Arthur quickly scrambled to his closet, pulling out a leather rucksack. This was not the first, and surely not the last time he’d ‘escaped’ the confines of his room. It was high noon, and he wanted to go inspect the lives of people below. Arthur wanted to smell street food. To run free as much as he pleased. He wanted to sip on cheap alcohol and make dumb decisions. None of these liberties were afforded to him. So he’d decided a long time ago he’d procure them for himself. 

He tossed a long rope off his balcony, securely tying it around the railing. He climbed off, and over the edge with a quiet chuckle. Once his feet hit the ground, the hedgehog was off. Arthur laughed, the soles of his shoes ever so slightly squishing into the malleable dirt beneath them. A very welcome contrast to the cold solid floor of the castle. The warm sun smiled upon cobalt blue fur, and Arthur downright reveled in the heat seeping through his quills and into his skin.

The breeze rushed around him, tickling small, but keen ears. Despite the wind, he could hear the bustle of the city as he approached it. He wasn’t a huge fan of crowded urban areas, but something about the Capital of Camelot left him thoroughly infatuated. There was always so much going on! So much to do, and see! No two people were alike, and Arthur had even witnessed a brawl . He found it rather entertaining. People could get so worked up over the smallest things. Even the smallest amount of money seemed to matter so much here.

As he stood at a hilltop overlooking the area, the Prince couldn’t help but flick his gaze over to the outermost East edge of Avalon. He knew there were many less fortunate citizens there. As much as he wished away his princely life, he was still appreciative that fate hadn’t placed him in such a position. When Arthur is crowned, he is certain he will assist these people, and help them back on their feet. For now, however, he elects to stay far away from such areas. Lest he risk getting recognized and put up for ransom. His father would never let him hear the end of it. If he managed to survive, that is.  

Arthur trekked along, the smile on his face only growing. Before he knew it, he was wandering along with the people-traffic. Emerald green eyes curiously absorbed everything they could. He was more than happy to move along with the flow, taking in the sights and sounds of the bustling city. Until a particularly delicious smell caught his nose. The Prince made a beeline towards the scent, an extremely keen hedgehog nose working on overdrive.

His sniffing led him right to a street food stall. He felt his mouth water as he grinned up at the vendor. The man boisterously laughed, lightly slapping Arthur’s upper back. A friendly gesture. “Well then! That is some nose you’ve got there! I could see it a wigglin’ across the street!” Arthur flushed in embarrassment, nodding silently.

“..What exactly is it I'm smelling-? I’m sure it's delicious.!” The vendor grinned, presenting a fork full of some kind of pastry to Arthur. The hedgehog opened his mouth to speak- and before he knew it, the food had been stuffed in his mouth to try. Before Arthur even registered what he was doing, he was exchanging a pair of Shillings in return for more of the delectable treat. He happily ate it, honey oozing down his lips. He looked up at the sign on the booth. A honey crispel..? This had to be the best thing he’d ever tasted..! It was like Heaven on Earth. Gods, he loved sweets.

The vendor hummed, speaking up again. “I swear.. I recognise you from somewhere..! Have I seen you before?” Arthur nervously chuckled. “I do not believe so..!” The canine squinted, looking Arthur over more intensely. “..No. I am certain I know you.” Arthur swallowed, slowly backing up. “I- My apologies..! I must go now..!” He quickly took a big bite of the remaining food, before turning to bolt. He was stifled by a solid chestplate. His movement forward left the armor thwacking him right in the face. 

“ Unforgivable.”   Arthur flinched as Uther’s palm smacked across his cheek. He didn’t dare make a sound.

“Is this a game to you, boy?” Arthur shook his head. “No, Your Majesty.” Uther sneered at him. “Clearly it is. My knights found you in the streets, eating commoner food, and talking to a stranger.” He grabbed Arthur by the jaw roughly, forcing the cobalt hedgehog to look up into his eyes.

“This defiance stops NOW. From now on you will be accompanied by a royal knight at all times.” Arthur’s ears pinned. “Father-! You cannot be serious..!” Uther tightened his grip, giving his son a challenging glare. Arthur sighed, silently resigning. “You will spend your days inside the palace, studying. There will be no more of this- childish rebellion. Do I make myself clear? ” Arthur swallowed. “Perfectly..”

Uther released his son. “Take him away.”

Seven knights. Arthur had run off seven knights. To the dismay of his father, he was slippery. Escaping was never too difficult. Not like Uther would ever cast one of the knights of The Round Table as his supervisor. No, Arthur wasn’t that valuable.

He flipped open an official summons. His father wished for his attendance. Perhaps he’d finally heard enough about Arthur’s… schemes. In retrospect, he did feel kind of bad for tripping one of the men and letting him fall down the garderobe. It wasn’t his intention- but it had served him well enough. 

The invitation was for an event. Uther was officially Knighting those he believed were worthy enough to join his official ranks. Boring as far as Arthur was concerned.

He read on. He’d be assigned a new babysitter. The reigning champion of the competition. God damn it.

        
With a grumble, he slipped on his shoes, and put on the uppermost layers of his outfit. With a slow pace, he lazily made his way out to the courtyard, and to the training grounds. As far as he was concerned, he didn’t care about a bunch of idiots trying to cut each other open. But maybe it could provide a bit of entertainment. His pace increased ever so slightly. Maybe this could be worth a little of his while.

      
He took a seat beside his father, offering a polite, curt nod. The matches were beginning, and the youngest and weakest were sparring. It was almost sad to watch. Some of these boys couldn’t be older than ten and three years. He shook his head. As the event went on, higher-ranking men began fighting. They were far older as well. They certainly caused far more bloodshed than necessary. Arthur scoffed. Until he appeared.

     Before Arthur knew it, he couldn’t look away. Mesmerizing. He’d never seen a person move in the way he did. It was like this knight was dancing with his opponent. With quick footwork, the mysterious ebony had his challenger tripping over his own feet, and slipping into the dirt. He hadn’t even touched his sword against the other. He moved so strategically, like a bullfighter waving a red flag.

The nameless man continued to work through opponent after opponent, until he was the last one standing. 

     
Arthur observed him in awe. This stranger.. had such a familiarity to him.

As the Knight approached his father, he couldn’t help but feel a magnetism to him. The stranger bowed before the King. Uther grinned, resting his hands on armored shoulders. “Now that is a spar to be proud of, my boy.”

Arthur ignored a pang of jealousy. The stranger spoke up. “Thank you, your Majesty.” Arthur’s breath caught in his throat as he listened to the shockingly low tenor of the King’s champion. He couldn’t deny it was an objectively attractive voice. A flush stirred to his cheeks. 

    
Uther grinned, turning to Arthur.

“I have been waiting for this day for many weeks. He shall supervise you from now on. Good luck escaping his watch.” The Prince’s face fell back into a deadpan. How many of these knights did he need to get rid of? How long was his father going to treat him like a puppet? Before he could protest, that voice spoke up again. His words died in his throat.

Goddamn it.

“It would be an honor.” The knight bowed. Uther nodded. “Very good. Arthur is due for study time at this hour, and I would greatly appreciate your escort. I will send for you and your fellow knights later.” 

    
When the King was gone, Arthur crossed his arms impatiently. With a quick turn on his heel, he was already making haste into the castle. His newly appointed protector in tow behind him. Just great .

The last two weeks had been wonderful. He’d been able to actually do as he pleased, without being obsessively followed around. Hell, he couldn’t even go to the bathroom without the uncomfortable realization that someone was standing outside in the hall waiting on him.

      He growled under his breath and abruptly stopped in the hall. “Stop following me.” The male behind Arthur stood patiently. “I am afraid I am not able to do that, your Highness.”

Arthur deadpanned, before walking right up to the soldier. He moved extremely close, effectively getting up in the Knight’s face. With his height, the male still loomed over his Prince. the shorter hedgehog snarled under his breath. “That’s an Order,—“ he paused. “What is your name, anyway?” The soldier seemed to tense at that. Arthur wasn’t having it.

“Well-???”

The ebony cleared his throat nervously. “…I do not believe you will be pleased with that Information.”

There was no hesitation from his Prince as Arthur flipped up his gunmetal visor. 

    
Dark ears nervously flattened, and ruby eyes flicked around sporadically; looking anywhere but directly in front of him. He didn’t know if he could bear it.

The Knight flinched as a warm gloved hand softly cupped his face. His eyes darted to Arthur, and were met with a shocked gaze from his Prince. He felt his mouth go dry. Emerald green irises were practically sparkling as they looked him over. He could tell Arthur was committing every detail to memory. He tried to ignore the boyish flutter in his chest. Arthur really was something fine to look at.

The Prince softly smiled, visibly full of joy. “Lancelot…” His Knight shyly nodded. Arthur enveloped him in a tight hug, ignoring the uncomfortably solid armor adorning his body. With Arthur’s head on his shoulder, he could see just how fast his cobalt tail was wagging.

He felt his cheeks grow hot. Was Arthur actually happy to see him..? After how he’d left him behind before..? His arms hesitated. It would be impolite to not return the hug, but it would also be unprofessional for someone like himself to hug a Prince. He silently resigned, arms falling back to his sides.

Arthur pulled away from the hug, still smiling. “It’s really nice to see you again..” he looked Lancelot up and down. “What is Nimue FEEDING you-? Wow, I’m impressed. Never thought I’d see the day I had to look up to meet your gaze.” Lancelot awkwardly chuckled. “Nothing new- I think my height just finally caught up with me.” Arthur chuckled, playfully swatting at Lancelot’s armored bicep. “I think everything caught up with you.” He chuckled. “It makes me happy that you are pursuing your dreams.”

“I- honestly figured you’d be dead by now.” Lancelot deadpanned and Arthur laughed again. “I’ve missed you so. I’ve thought about you often.” He grabbed the ebony’s forearm, before pulling him along as he walked down the hall.

        
Lancelot blinked in confusion. “But I thought you didn’t want me to follow you, your Highness—“ 

Arthur quickly shushed him.

“Circumstances have changed.”


 

Chapter Text

It had been three weeks since Lancelot had become Arthur’s newest bodyguard. And surprisingly, the Prince didn’t loathe his existence. He allowed the ebony to follow him around, and didn’t mind his presence in his personal chambers. Not once had Arthur found himself attempting to escape Lancelot’s watchful eye. It was as if.. he almost enjoyed the ebony Knight’s company. 

  His dull days of nothing but educational work became just a bit brighter with Lancelot in the room to chat with. Though he didn’t exactly enjoy the ebony hedgehog’s more reserved personality these days. Lancelot seemed to behave like he was being watched at all times by Arthur’s father. Arthur had tried to break the ice; anything to get his Knight to just relax, but it never seemed to yield a result.

Maybe the guy had just changed.

The Prince brushed it off. He supposed he probably had as well over the years. Emerald irises flicked out the window, scanning for the position of the sun. High noon. Arthur gently put his writing quill in its holder at the top of his desk. With a nervous sigh, he turned around in his chair ever so slightly. Lancelot stood by his door, as he always did. Usually, Lancelot caused no issue.. however, he had a bit of a private appointment to handle today. Arthur couldn’t afford to deal with the Knight following him around. He needed a diversion.

  After a moment’s thought, he grabbed his water glass, and sipped until his mouth was full. He immediately rushed to the trash bin, and put on a performance. The Prince noisily retched, letting the liquid empty out of his mouth and fall into the can. Arthur noticed Lancelot tense, and nervously step towards Arthur through his peripherals. Perfect . The cobalt quickly wrapped up his charade, putting on his best possible sick expression. He remained hunched over the trash, concealing the evidence of his lie. Lancelot quickly knelt beside his prince, hesitating before placing a palm on his upper back. Arthur attempted to ignore the way his hackles raised in surprise. 

   “Are you alright..?” Lancelot’s voice was laced with worry. Arthur almost smiled. Despite everything, he was still so kind. “I’m alright..“ he needed to make his move.  “However… Could you fetch the Nurse-maid for me..? I believe I may be falling ill..” Lancelot quickly stood, offering Arthur a chaste and respectful nod. The ebony turned around, making his way out of the room. This was his chance. It would take Lancelot approximately fifteen minutes to get to the other end of the castle grounds, and back. Arthur quickly stood, fleeing from his room, and up the nearest flight of stairs. He needed to get to the Wizard’s keep and back before Lancelot returned. His lungs ached as he climbed flights of stairs, but Lancelot couldn’t know about this. Nobody could.

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Seventeen Years Ago.

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Dozens of nursemaids scrambled through the halls. Warm water, towels, and opium were all quickly dispersed into the Queen’s chambers. Cries and groans of agony echoed through the halls. A young King Uther nervously paced up and down the halls. “I demand entry! That is my wife, and you are denying me!” He bared his teeth into a vicious snarl, threatening the woman standing in front of the door. “I am truly sorry, Your Majesty. It is just how things are to be done.” One of his Knights stepped in and placed a hand on his shoulder. His shoulders relaxed when he met the gaze of his knight.

         “Uther, there is womanly work afoot. I think it is in our best interests to wait outside.” The King silently resigned, ears flattening atop his head as he listened to cries of agony. “Can we not help her? Surely she has been given Opium-? Anything?”

  His companion leaned against the wall, and he followed suit.

 “I am sure the Queen is being provided with more than sufficient care.”

  The King sighed. “I do not understand why I cannot be beside her. If anyone should bear witness to the birth of my son, it should be me. I care for her far too much to be away from her bedside.” The wolf beside him chuckled. “Always the impatient one, Uther.” He growled quietly. “Always the snarky one, Godfrey.”

  The child was birthed. However, as Vanilla observed the Queen she quickly ordered for her to be tended to. Her face was a sickly pale, and she could barely hold herself up. Before the Royal Mage could arrive, the woman had succumbed to blood loss. With a sorrowful sigh, Vanilla gently cradled the infant. She examined the child for any defects or injury– when she gasped.

“…A girl..? ”

The room stood in silence for a moment. “The doctor was sure the Queen was to bear a son. ” 

A collective understanding fell over the room. With the Queen now gone , and no son to take the throne after Uther, Camelot would surely fall to ruin. Vanilla knew Uther would refuse another wife. She’d known him since he was a boy. She hesitated, before gingerly wrapping the infant in a towel. “..God save the Prince. Prince Arthur.” The rest of the room chanted the sentiment after the rabbit.

   Uther’s ears pricked up when the cries of his wife ebbed, and gave way to those of an infant. Before he knew it, he was attempting entry into the room again. An irritated snarl escaped his throat when he once again was denied access. Cheekily, he pressed an ear against the hardwood of the door. There were hushed mutters. Uther could hear shuffling, but grumbled when his ears failed to provide any real critical information. He is King, he should have the right to do as he wishes! Against his better judgment, he forced the door open.

In a moment’s notice, his world fell to ruin.

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“Arthur! It is wonderful to see you!” The blue hedgehog chuckled awkwardly as he stepped into the Wizard’s quarters. He awkwardly twiddled his thumbs. “You as well.” The child-like fox gave him a knowing expression. “Are you here for the usual?” Arthur gave him a chaste nod, and the Wizard gestured for him to take a seat. He knew of Arthur’s... Condition. The lie. The women knew their story wouldn’t hold true forever. Arthur would age, and it would be made clear he was no man. So, under the radar of their King, they enlisted some help . And now Arthur was here, receiving artificial doses of hormones.

    Truly, he couldn’t complain. He’d seen the way women were treated. The thought of being seen as a breeder with no intelligence made bile rise in his throat. He knew many of them would kill to be in his position. He watched the Wizard concoct a potion, and hand it off to Arthur.

    It would be far more time efficient to make them ahead of time, but the fox knew he could not be caught with something like this. It was blasphemy. Treason at best. His brow knit sorrowfully. He remembered a time when Uther was kind. Generous. Never patient– but understanding. He poured the dose into a vial. Simply put- a time when Uther would’ve understood why this had to be done . 

  Those days were gone.

   Merlin crouched down, a small blade in hand. Gently as he could, he made a small incision and allowed the formula to ooze deep into the muscle before the bleeding truly began. He worked quickly, immediately stitching the wound back up and tightly bandaging the area. He courteously pulled Arthur’s pant leg back down for him.

    “Thank you..!” And with the quiet mutter of appreciation, Arthur had already bolted out of the room, and begun his descent down the stairwell. The Wizard chuckled at the noisy tapping of his dress shoes. He was never a very sneaky one. The fox smiled softly, shaking his head.

    Arthur slammed the door shut as he made it to his room, sighing in relief when he was sure the room was completely vacant. Lancelot hadn’t made it back yet. He quickly made himself disheveled, kicking off his shoes and ruffling up his outfit and headquills. The Prince leaped into his bed, putting on his best ‘sick’ impression as Lancelot returned with a nurse by his side.

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    The Knight eyed Arthur with suspicion. After the Nurse had left him alone with the order of bedrest, the Prince had immediately perked up. It had started out with impatient wiggling of his feet, and ended in the guy practically running around the room. As his Knight, Lancelot knew better than to question royalty. ..But as Arthur’s friend..?

    “I see you have recovered rather quickly, your Highness.” 

Arthur blinked, stopping in his tracks as he paced around. He gave a nervous grin, ears flattening guiltily. Lancelot cocked a brow, giving a knowing look. “Hey..! Don’t look at me like that.! I wasn’t faking..!”

     He offered a weak, phony cough. Lancelot chuckled. Before Arthur realized it, Lancelot had removed a metal gauntlet, leaving him in a satin wrist-length glove. He pressed the back of his paw to Arthur’s forehead. The cobalt hedgehog flushed a deep crimson at the touch. Lancelot had never been this close to him before— and he certainly hadn’t initiated any kind of physical contact on his own before. Was he finally getting through to the ebony hedgehog…?

    “I suppose you are a little warm. You really should rest and recover. You have festivities to plan tomorrow.”

Arthur snapped out of his own head, offering a chaste nod. He’d almost completely forgotten about the party planning. In just a week’s time, he’d be eighteen. In two weeks he’d be wed. Cobalt ears flattened. He was to be married no later than nineteen. He sat atop his comforter, nervously clutching fistfuls of the fabric. 

      He hated feeling this way. The chilling feeling that reality always brought him. Just moments ago he’d been content. Unbothered. It was usually easy to ignore the more unfortunate aspects of princehood. Would his inevitable fate to become King make him cruel and cold like his father..? 

He flopped back against the pillows, brows furrowed. 

     That man had always been a mystery to him. He’d heard stories of Uther’s kindness as a young prince- and he knew that his father had certainly been nothing but chivalrous and polite to his mother.. but something changed. Arthur had never been able to meet the King everyone else spoke so highly of. Surely it was the weight of the crown that ruined him. The thought made Arthur as nervous as it did depressed. What had he done to deserve the cold emotionless husk of a father he had? Why did he have to suffer the burden of being without a mother..? 

     Not that he even knew what Igraine had looked like. Uther had torn any paintings containing her down and ordered them burned. How could he be so cruel..? 

“Your Highness..? Why do you cry..? May I be of any sort of assistance?”

     Arthur slapped a hand over his face, wiping hot tears from his cheeks. Lancelot looked at him with concern, hands awkwardly hovering- as if he was resisting the temptation of touching the Prince.

“No. No reason.”

Arthur laid down, pulling the covers over his face.

No reason at all.

The next day passed in a blur. Who knew planning a royal event was so much work..? Between the catering, invitations, and security, Arthur was as exhausted as ever. He slumped against the hard mahogany desk he sat at, cheek quickly being cooled by the wood. He sighed. He didn’t want a big fancy event! He’d be infinitely happier to share a nice dessert with his friends in the courtyard.

Arthur sat up. Friends..? Did he even have anyone he could truly bestow that title upon? Sure there was Merlin.. But the wizard surely had far more important things to be doing. He’d interacted with the Knight Gawain a few times- and of course there was Lancelot..? Arthur frowned, ears drooping. Even if he did have his way, it wouldn’t matter. He righted himself, correcting his poor posture. He was alone in the large office, save for Lancelot, but he was sure his Father would find a way to yell at him nonetheless. The man just knew things.

The Prince grumbled, tiredly shoving away his paper and quill. An ebony ear flicked.

“Bored already?”

Lancelot smiled at him, the ghost of a snarky grin on his lips. Ah.He thought this was funny . Arthur gave him a challenging grin.

“If I recall correctly, your last recess was twenty minutes ago, my Liege. I find it rather unfortunate his Royal Highness is as still as the sea at high tide.”

Was Lancelot.. Making fun of him..?

 Arthur couldn’t help but smile at the revelation. He was warming up again. A satin gloved hand firmly swatted Lancelot’s visor, and Arthur fell into hysterics as it smacked into his face with an obnoxious clang. The Knight nearly lost his balance at the surprise, before righting himself with a furious flush. He flipped his visor open once more.

“That was not humorous. Why are you-?”

Lancelot blinked in surprise, finding the Prince nearly doubled over in laughter.

His stomach fluttered. Embarrassment and adoration mixed into one fuzzy clump. The Knight crossed his arms.
.
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Arthur’s birthday ball was in two days' time, and Lancelot still had yet to find him a proper gift. Being by the Prince’s side almost all the time left very little time to leave and search for something suitable. It would be nothing if not rude to show up without something for his Prince. Especially when Arthur was one he adored so much. This had to be right.

“Just ask him what he likes! I can feel you brooding from all the way over here, Lance.”

Gawain crossed his arms as his statement was punctuated with quiet hums of agreement across the barrack.

“I cannot just ask him. That defeats the whole purpose of the gift.” Lancelot groaned, throwing a pillow over his face. “There is no hope at all.”

Lamorak rolled his eyes, dangling over the edge of the stacked bed. “Why do you care so much? I doubt someone like Arthur actually cares about things like that. He has everything he’s ever wanted. The guy is rolling in daddy’s dough!”

Perceval snickered, polishing her armor. “Lancelot has taken quite a liking to the prince as of late.”

Lancelot sat upright, stiff as a board as quiet laughter echoed through the room. “That is not true. I like him as well as anyone would!”

“Oh my Prince! Please love me!”

Lamorak dramatically fell into Gawain’s arms, the Echidna scrambling to catch him.

Lancelot snarled, baring his teeth in disapproval.

“Of course, my loyal Knight Lancelot!” Gawain joined the charade.

“Enough!” Lancelot turned over in his bed, pulling the blankets over his head. “You three are morons!”

Maybe Gawain was right after all. Lancelot pondered as he absently watched Arthur swing around a flimsy sword. Not unlike the ones they once played with as children. He stood, approaching the azure.

“Your highness,”

“ Arthur.”

“Right. Arthur,”

Lancelot met the Prince’s gaze, ignoring the tug in his chest as emerald eyes practically sparkled up at him. His excitement for whatever Lancelot was about to say was clear. He always seemed so pleased when Lancelot would speak up on his own. It had become almost addicting to do so, just to see that gleam in Arthur’s eyes. His boyish smile. 

“I unfortunately find myself without a gift for your birthday. …I am unsure what his majesty likes after all this time.”

Arthur tilted his head to the side, chuckling quietly.

“You don't have to get me anything, Lance.”

Lancelot frowned. “I want to. But I don't know what it is you desire. Whatever it is, I’ll do whatever I can to provide you with it.” Arthur smiled, patting Lancelot’s cheek with a warm expression.

“The only thing I desire from you is your company, Lancelot. Being near you brings me more joy than any item you could bring me could.”

Lancelot’s heart caught in his throat as Arthur took his hand.

“Do you think you could teach me how to use this properly..?”

He dangled the sword in front of Lancelot. He didn't comment on his flush. Or the way his hand twitched.

“Of course.”

Chapter Text

(IMPORTANT NOTE! In order to understand this chapter fully, please consider the following definitions. Your Majesty: A King, or Queen. Your Highness: A Prince, or Princess.)

Hot steam, and the flowery aroma of exorbitantly priced soaps and perfumes created a pleasant atmosphere in the dimly lit washroom. Attendants were busy at work, gently brushing through long locks of silky hair as their Princess lay relaxed. Soft hands carefully massaged over her body, delicately washing any dirt away. Candle-flames fluttered as rain tapped against glass pane windows.

“Your Highness.” A messenger bowed, gingerly handing the Princess a letter. “News from your father.”

The woman immediately sat upright, water splashing her attendants. She dried her hands, before taking the piece of parchment and unfolding it.

‘My Dearest Guinevere,

I write to you with news that shall be of great interest to you, although I know it may also cause concern and a bit of apprehension.

You have long since proven yourself a capable and strong-willed young woman, one whom I am incredibly proud of, and I am now of the mind that it is time for you to take this final step in your growth.

I pray you will forgive me for what is to come, but it is my duty as King, but also your father to arrange a marriage suitable for our family.

You will be escorted to Camelot in a few short months to be wed.

I apologize for my absence, I would have greatly preferred to speak with you in person about such important matters. I assure you I will return home soon.

With Love,
Leodegrance’

Guinevere stood up, soapy water splashing all over the floor.

This couldn’t be happening. The Princess raged, wrapping a cotton cloth towel around herself before storming out of the room. Knights and servants alike immediately covered their eyes in respect as Guinevere walked down the hallway in such an immodest state of dress.
.
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“Any better yet?” Arthur grinned, swinging his sword around.

Lancelot sighed, chuckling quietly. “Maybe if you intend to go to battle with a wooden fence.”

“Hey! Not nice!” Arthur pouted. “We’ve been at this for a week, and I’m still bad! How do you do it?”
The Prince tossed the flimsy zinc blade across the yard, before abruptly freezing as his Knight caught it by the hilt.

“Your issue lies in your stance.”

Lancelot kicked Arthur’s feet out from underneath him, before catching him by his lower back.

“Your own weight becomes your downfall.” The Knight smirked, self assured.

“Not to mention your swings are aimless and neither precise nor accurate.”

Arthur sputtered, squirming out of Lancelot’s hold. He dusted himself off, averting his gaze. Lancelot chuckled, drawing his own sword from it’s sheath. He moved behind Arthur, placing the heavy iron weapon in his hands. Gauntlet clad hands rested over top the Prince’s as Lancelot positioned himself to assist.

“What do you want to hit? That you must decide first.”

Arthur narrowed his gaze, zeroing in on a well worn target a few feet away. His Knight hummed in acknowledgement, the sound low and raspy, mere inches away from an azure ear. Arthur gulped.
.
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In a fury, Guinevere slammed her fist on the table. "Father, how can you do this to me? I am a grown woman perfectly capable of choosing my own husband! Why must you marry me off to some stranger who doesn't know the first thing about me? I’ve never even met this man!"

Her father was unfazed, remaining calm and resolute in his decision. "My dear Guinevere, this arrangement is not only for you. It will strengthen our kingdom and ensure its future. Your objections are futile, and I have made my decision. You MUST marry Prince Arthur."

The King stepped forward, gently cupping his daughter’s cheek. “I know you are displeased. You will come to forgive me one day, I'm sure. From what I hear, Arthur is a nice boy. He will treat you well.”

Guinevere sighed, gazing downcast. Her temper had ebbed, leaving behind nothing but sorrow. Moving away meant distance from her kingdom. Her family. Her friends. Marrying some stranger meant losing everything she’d ever known. Ready for it or not, she didn’t have a choice in the matter. There was no changing what had been done. Surely she could find a way to be content living as this man’s wife. She’d make do. She always has before.
.
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“Good. Remember to breathe.” Lancelot instructed, watching Arthur swing his sword at the target.
Arthur panted, allowing the sword to droop with his shoulders as he rested. The additional weight of the iron created extra fatigue, draining him of his stamina quickly. Lancelot corrected his posture, and Arthur groaned.

“You’re treating the sword like a weapon. It is not.” Lancelot traced his finger from the tip of the blade to Arthur’s forearm, and then up his shoulder. “It is an extension of you. Try again.” Arthur took a deep breath before swinging the sword once more. The cut was clean, slicing through the target entirely. Lancelot grinned, nodding in approval. “I knew you could do it.”

Arthur whooped, throwing his arms in the air in celebration, before running to Lancelot’s side and enveloping the ebony hedgehog in a hug. “Thank you for believing in me.” The Knight tensed, before carefully reciprocating the hug. Arthur hadn’t hugged him like this since they were children. His embrace felt safe. Familiar.

“Of course. I’ll always root for you, your Highness.” Lancelot watched in surprise as Arthur’s grin fell. He pulled away from the hug, hefting the sword and sheathing it back in the holster on Lancelot’s side.

“Yeah. Thanks, Lance.”

Arthur turned on his heel, before stopping in surprise as nearly a dozen of his father’s highest ranking men approached him. His stomach rose to his throat. Had he done something..? Had something serious happened? The leader of the group -Godfrey. His father’s right hand man. He’d never seen him anywhere but beside Uther.-- approached Arthur first, a nearly shell-shocked expression on his face.

“Your Majesty. .There are important matters that require your immediate attention.”

It was like everything had suddenly stopped around him.

Time froze in place as Arthur processed what Godfrey had just told him. He didn’t need to elaborate any further.

“Your Majesty.”

This...this couldn't be happening. Arthur’s world was crumbling around him entirely.

His father was dead.

That made him..

King.
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Uther galloped on his horse as fast as he could. His grip on his son's tiny body was firm, determined to keep him safe. At least for now. He rode toward a mystical lake, where the Fae enchantress Nimue resided. He was distraught and desperate, knowing this small child was his last hope.

Arthur stirred in his father’s arms, sniffling quietly before tangling small tan paws in Uther’s baby blue fur. The King’s gaze drifted to his son, remorse clawing around his heart. This child –his child– was so small. So defenseless. Uther carefully dismounted his horse, taking a seat on the shore.

He traced his thumb along Arthur’s cheek. Though it pained him, he needed to remain resolute in his choice. His only chance to revive his wife. The only condition: his infant son must be the sacrifice.

He steeled his gaze as Nimue rose from the depths of the water, her form revealed as the silk covering she wore dripped with water.

“I know why you’re here, Uther.” The fae woman glared at him with disapproval. “Condemning this child to the same fate as your wife. He is far worthier than you will ever be. For allowing love to selfishly corrupt your heart, I curse you to never feel love again at all.”
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“The fault is mine.” Godfrey stood, bowing his head. “My negligence is to blame.” The Knight kneeled at Arthur’s feet. “I beg for your forgiveness and mercy, your Majesty.”

The elder Knight’s voice broke as he kneeled at Arthur’s feet. The cobalt hedgehog couldn’t hear any of it. His chest ached and his head spun as tears welled up in his eyes. He took a shaky breath– Trying to do something, ANYTHING to get his feet to move. And yet he continued to just stand there. Like an idiot.

Before he even realized what was happening, Lancelot had taken his hand.

The Knight’s brow furrowed as he guided Arthur away. The new King’s eyes were blurred with tears, shaky sobs leaving his throat as he helplessly clung to his friend. It felt like he was lost at sea; detached from all reality. So much weight had just been placed on his shoulders. A thick fog surrounded Arthur, leaving everything blurry as it suffocated him.

A warm pressure enveloped him, and a familiar voice cut through the intense haze.

Lancelot.

Arthur threw his arms around the ebony hedgehog, gasping desperately as air finally returned to him. Lancelot’s touch was oxygen. His Knight’s muttered apologies fell on deaf ears as Arthur disappeared into the safety of his only friend’s affection.

Why did losing his father hurt this badly? The man had never once hugged him. Never spared him a glance unless he made some kind of mistake. He hated that man.

And yet he loved him so.