Arthur Pendragon (unites_kingdoms) wrote in welcomethreads, @ 2014-01-16 14:12:00 |
|
|||
Entry tags: | arthur pendragon, merlin |
Who: Arthur Pendragon & Merlin (Morgana, Guinevere are welcome)
What: Storybrooke magic de-ages Arthur. He's 15 and generally a spoilt brat Prince.
Where: Arthur & Merlin's apartment.
When: Thursday the 17th - Morning.
Rating: P for Prattish.
Status:: Open for others, On going
Arthur woke as the sun streamed in, his face half planted in the pillow. Before he opened his eyes already the gathering list of tasks he had for the day began to turn over in his mind. Not yet a knight, his Squire duties were no where near those of a normal youth, as the Prince he did not have to serve the Knight training him, nor carry out his daily tasks and errands. He'd never had to lift, polish or place a piece of armour. It might've been a squire's work, but it wasn't a Prince's.
Still, it meant if anything he trained harder, as he had the time to devote to it. More was expected of his abilities against the other squires being trained. He had lessons too, where others did not. As King he would need to be well written and well spoken, as well knowledgable of royal customs, tradition and history. He didn't care for lessons one bit. They were far too dull, as he had to sit still for hours and listen, write, repeat what he was told. Not nearly as dull as court however, having to endure the politics of ruling a Kingdom. Despite finding it a terrible bore, Arthur listened and tried to learn, aware as heir, these would one day be the duties expected of him.
Resigned to his fate, he rolled to his back, only to find himself planted soundly upon the floor in a heap. This bed was half the size of what he remembered, and thus Arthur scrambled to his feet in a hurry and look wildly about pulling the tangled sheet away – the room was slightly messy, but it certainly wasn't his, the bedclothes he wore were odd and ill-fitted. Staring with shock he looked slowly about. This wasn't the castle either. It didn't look like any castle, not did it look like a dungeon. But all he could think was abduction. He spotted Camelot's crest upon a tabard folded upon a chair, along with maile, a thick cloak, armour and a gambeson. A sheathed sword rested next to it, quickly he grabbed the word, pulled it from it's sheath and moved to the door finding it opened ..why wasn't it locked?