Since Birth

Chapter Twenty-Seven

People always have a bias, even if they state that they are neutral in the discussion of topic. Throughout the years of becoming a prince and what would soon be considered King, Arthur realized that people needed something to blame—to be angry at. It was as if the anger directed at something—or someone—provoked them and gave them strength. It was a bonding method, and Arthur despised it. If the people weren't angry, what would they be? Bored, perhaps? Was this their excitement?

Arthur gazed out the window, the rope he had gotten for Merlin and him in one hand. It clearly wasn't enough like he had stated prior to this moment, but he was room-bound. All as the punishment of...

Arthur's ears perked at the crickets chirping outside. The window was already open, all he needed to do was leave. He had done it once, almost twice. With Merlin he had seemed so confident, so sure of everything; now all that his eyes saw were...images. Something he was unsure of. Arthur didn't know what it meant, and for once in his life, he felt lost. Truly lost. His father was there at the beginning of his life to set things in order, but now that he had experienced the world for himself, Uther's guidance was irrelevant. Arthur didn't have a helping hand anymore. And...love. That feeling that fueled him like a wildfire. Something that was once so bright suddenly now dull.

Arthur dropped the rope from the window. The night sky gave Arthur a sense of recollection. It was something he should've cherished, but at the moment, he wasn't sure what he was supposed to feel. Morgana had chosen to stay, and for that, Arthur's journey—his life from now on—is with him and him alone.

Arthur licked his lips, staring down to the ground far beneath his feet. He would have to jump, but for what cost? He squinted just thinking about the future pain that would be inflicted. The blond shook his head, dismissing the thought. He didn't care. His destination would be worth it. Arthur gripped onto the rope, tying it to his bed. To the Gods he would be blessed if he made it out without a sound. Eventually placing both feet and hands on the rope, the blond's brows furrowed as he stared down to the ground, breathing deeply as he edged his way down.

'...who is going to run the kingdom when you leave? When Uther leaves?'

Morgana's voice echoed in his mind, taunting him with the dire situation that would be soon to come. Was this really a good idea? Had defying his father been futile? Arthur's arms were getting sore. There was no time to ponder on this situation. But once he jumped, there would be no going back. He would be out. Outside. Should that give him a feeling of relief? Or should it be regret? The blond dipped one foot further down, trying to grip to the now invisible rope. He had ran out, yet there was still much air to cover before the ground was available to his toes. Arthur pinched his eyes shut, knowing that this would hurt.

Or he could climb back up...

______________________

"Prince Arthur?"

"I need you to ready a horse for my use." The blond tried to remain as still as possible. His limp due to the injury from the fall was present, and he didn't want to appear vulnerable to this stable boy. If Uther were to come and see him this weak, this feeble, this desperate.

"Your highness, with all due respect-"

"I demand a horse now," Arthur lisped, tired, drunk on life. He knew he would never get to his destination with a sprained ankle. He needed a horse and this was his only hope. His only option for escape.

"I cannot, sire."

Those words made Arthur's heart crack at the edges. He would not give up. Not this far into his mission. Not after what he had confessed to Uther. Not after what Morgana had said to him. Not after...