¹ 𝐒𝐏𝐈𝐍𝐃𝐋𝐄 𝐅𝐈𝐑𝐄 ━━ 𝘣𝘣𝘤 𝘮𝘦𝘳𝘭𝘪𝘯

━━ 𝘵𝘩𝘦 𝘧𝘰𝘳𝘦𝘴𝘵 𝘮𝘢𝘪𝘥𝘦𝘯

"Arthur already forbade you from going, did he not?" Francis inquired exhaustion-laced, taking a seat at the table as he observed her actions, quick as could be. "I'm sure His Majesty won't be too thrilled with your blatant defiance."

Her reply was short and expected. "Arthur can't forbid me from doing anything."

"Technically as your prince and future sovereign, he has the authority."

Aurora huffed at the mention of technicalities, for truth be told, his standing as a royal son was something she occasionally found so easy to forget; she rarely treated him as such in all the years of their affinity, and he always let it be known that he appreciated the normalcy it brought. Ceasing to stillness, she snared within her cousin's expectant gaze. "He won't make it to sovereignty at this rate. Without Merlin, as recent events have proven, he's likely to get himself killed out there. I'm going to go make sure he doesn't."

Francis's irritation fragmented away into understanding, and the young man sighed at the notion of their land's future lost; there wasn't a question in what she had said, and he knew that his chances alone (regardless of the skill his standing had beaten him into practice to attain), weren't entirely in his favor. His interest in further squabbles had deteriorated, and despite his wishes to keep her out of the clutches of danger, he knew she'd run off into the night regardless of what he said.

"Well, I'm not taking the blame for it." His dismissal was quick, knowing that once she and Arthur crossed paths, the aftermath would be one quite unpleasant. Truth be told, he would favor world's end over bearing witness to that. "I'll just say you snuck away when we weren't looking; I have no interesting in dealing with his frustrations."

"Trust me, you won't have to. I'm sure I'll be getting every bit of it myself."

"Whatever harness he extends will only be because he cares, fears loss, and isn't too well versed in such expressions—you know that as well as I."

Beyond the shadow of a doubt, Aurora knew his words to be true. Given the way her old friend had been raised, the simplicity of expressing his emotions was a gift he hadn't quite mastered in every aspect. His care for those he found a natural affinity with was boundless, reaching past the stars above, and he didn't react well if they ever came under threat. When even a drop of negativity (birthed from such strained capabilities or otherwise) poisoned Arthur Pendragon's bloodstream, such as panic and fear, it often festered and grew away into anger.

They had seen it but once, forged by a greater sorrow than either could fathom, in the time following the tragic end of Zara Vortigern, and never hoped to again. Though the taste Aurora knew she would inevitably receive would not reach such a colossal extent—that which sprung from the emotional devastation of a man losing his truest love of all—she knew that an ember or two would ignite once her disobedience was known, but she cared not. That unpleasant glimpse would be a small price to pay for the unquestionable assurance he'd live to see his era upon the throne, where he might guide the splintered land from the shadows and into the light.