Arthur woke sore.
Not surprised just sore. His body felt heavier than it had any right to be, limbs stiff and reluctant when he tried to move.
He stayed where he was for a moment, staring upward, listening to sounds drifting in from outside voices, footsteps the day had already begun without him.
Still here, he thought.
He sat up carefully. The motion pulled at his muscles in protest, and he paused until the sensation faded. Standing took longer. Balance came only after effort, his feet uncertain on the floor until he adjusted.
Outside, the estate was awake. It was quieter than he remembered from the day before, just the modest bustle of the small household.
A handful of men moved around, tending to chores and checking on supplies, while children carried water, fed animals, and ran errands.
Arthur lingered at the edge of it all, unsure where he fit.
"Oi. You're late again."
Kay's voice cut through his hesitation. Kay stood near the well, sleeves rolled, posture casual but energetic. He looked like someone who belonged here.
Arthur frowned. "No one told me to wake up earlier."
Kay snorted. "No one tells you. You just do. That's the trick."
He shoved a small bucket toward Arthur. "Water. Hurry."
Arthur picked it up. The weight surprised him. He adjusted his grip and started across the yard, trying to ignore the burn in his arms.
"Careful there," Kay teased, smirking. "You'll spill it all before you even get halfway."
Arthur scowled. "I'm not that clumsy!"
Kay grinned. "We'll see about that."
Arthur focused, every step deliberate. Halfway to the trough, his arms shook. Water sloshed dangerously close to the rim.
"Careful!" Kay called again.
"Wouldn't want the animals swimming today."
Arthur slowed, reached the trough, and tipped the bucket forward spilling half of it.
Kay slapped his head and groaned. "Hopeless."
Arthur didn't answer. He refilled the bucket and carried it back, slower this time.
When he finished, his arms burned, and his breathing came shallow and fast.
A familiar presence prickled at the edge of his awareness.
"You know," Merlin said pleasantly from atop a fence, "most people don't look like they're fighting for their lives over a bucket."
Arthur turned sharply. "Go away."
Merlin dropped lightly to the ground, boots silent. "I was just… observing."
Arthur clenched his fists. "Stop observing. Just leave."
Merlin smiled. "And miss this display of bravery? Never."
Kay chuckled. "He's right, you know. I've been watching too."
Arthur's glare swept over both of them. "You're both insufferable."
"Insufferable is my middle name," Merlin said smoothly. "You'll learn to love it."
Arthur groaned and set the bucket down. "Why do you care so much about me anyway?"
Merlin leaned on a post, voice dropping conspiratorially. "Because you're interesting. Don't you feel it? Something… beneath the surface, waiting."
Arthur pressed his lips together. "I feel tired, mostly."
Kay rolled his eyes. "Oh, come on. You always complain. Just move and stop whining."
Arthur glared at him. "I'm not whining!"
Merlin's eyes gleamed. "Exactly. Good, Fire and stubbornness both rare traits, and yet you have them."
Arthur turned away. "You're both unbearable."
Kay leaned against the fence, watching silently for a moment. Then: "You know… you're a lot steadier than yesterday. That's something."
Arthur's lips twitched, but he ignored it. "Steady doesn't mean good."
Kay grinned. "True. But it's a start."
Merlin laughed softly. "I like that you argue with him. Shows fire. Discipline and stubbornness both rare in children."
Arthur scowled, glancing at Merlin. "You really enjoy making this worse, don't you?"
Merlin smirked, tilting his head. "Someone has to keep life interesting."
---
Later, Arthur was stacking firewood at the edge of the yard when a shadow fell over him.
He looked up.
The man standing there was broad and solid, armor dulled by years of use rather than neglect.
His expression was calm, assessing, without cruelty or indulgence.
Sir Ector.
"You're holding it wrong," Ector said.
Arthur stiffened. "I..."
Ector raised a hand. "Enough. Let me show you."
He adjusted Arthur's grip, then stepped back. "There, That's all for now."
Arthur hesitated. "I could keep going."
Ector studied him. "You could. But you shouldn't. Tomorrow you'll manage more."
No praise. No prophecy. Just fact.
Merlin's voice broke the quiet. "See? Sensible men still exist. Rare, but refreshing."
Arthur didn't respond. He picked up another log, trying to ignore Merlin's teasing
presence.
---
That night, Arthur lay awake.
Muscles ached, hands stung, chest burned faintly beneath the ribs not pain exactly, but a restless pressure responding to irritation and exhaustion. He clenched his fists.
The pressure eased slightly.
Merlin sat near the window, legs dangling, humming softly. "Don't push too hard," he said.
"I didn't do anything!" Arthur muttered.
Merlin smiled. "Exactly. That's when it starts."
Arthur turned onto his side, pulling the blanket tighter. Kay's laughter echoed faintly in his memory from the day. Small, weak, frustrating, yet… familiar.
For now, that was enough.
Somewhere deep within him, something ancient listened and waited.