Chapter Text
Morgana, a few years older, had thought of him as more boy than prince when they first met. She had watched Arthur with a wary curiosity. She had just lost her family, her home. The castle felt suffocating, never a moment alone, always under scrutiny, always expected to be proper, ladylike, restrained. She refused to be any of that. For so long, barely anything had been allowed. So she watched Arthur.
He had no family either, she realized with a quiet ache. She did not know King Uther before grief and rage had hardened him into a tyrant. She could not say whether he had ever been a good father, or whether the boy had lost both his mother and, with her absence, the chance of a father’s care. Yet, despite that absence, despite that loss, Arthur had turned out kind, generous, and brave. His mother, whoever she had been, must have been extraordinary to leave such a light in him.
She continued to watch him, but over time, she began to watch his back as well.
Not a week later, she found him sneaking into a literal dragon’s lair. She followed him through shadowed corridors, curiosity lighting his face like a torch. He moved with a boldness that made her chest tighten, not with fear exactly, but with a pang of protective exasperation.
“Arthur,” she whispered, but he didn’t hear her.
The damp stone corridor echoed with his soft footsteps. His eyes sparkled with mischief and wonder. He had heard whispers of the hidden chambers beneath Camelot, of the legendary creatures the King kept there. No one had ever dared explore this deep or so he thought.
“Arthur, wait!”
A shadow moved behind him. Morgana, seventeen and fiercely protective, had followed without hesitation, worried he might get into trouble again.
“It’s fine! I just want to see!” Arthur whispered, pressing forward.
The air grew hotter as they descended, and a low, rumbling growl vibrated through the walls. Torches flickered against rough stone, casting long, trembling shadows. And then, before them, bound in massive chains, was the dragon, its eyes glowing like molten gold, its scales shimmering even in the dim light, its tail thumping the ground in irritation.
Arthur froze. Curiosity battled fear.
“I-We shouldn’t-” Morgana began, but it was too late.
The dragon shifted, rattling its chains. A metallic screech echoed through the hall. Crashing footsteps followed. Guards, weapons raised, filled the corridor. Behind them, King Uther himself appeared, his face dark with fury.
“What have you two done?!”
Arthur’s mouth opened, then closed. He could barely breathe. His legs refused to move.
Morgana stepped forward, voice calm and steady. “It was my idea, Your Majesty. I wanted to see the dragon, and Prince Arthur followed me… to make sure I stayed safe.”
Arthur blinked, astonished. Morgana’s eyes met his, daring him to contradict her.
Uther’s gaze narrowed, then shifted toward Arthur. “Is this true?”
Arthur’s throat tightened, but he nodded reluctantly. Morgana’s hand brushed his arm briefly, an unspoken thank you, before she turned fully to Uther. “Yes, sire. I take full responsibility. Arthur meant no harm.”
The king’s glare softened slightly, not much, but Morgana’s courage had bought Arthur a reprieve. The guards relaxed their grip on their weapons, though the dragon still growled, tail swishing dangerously.
Arthur exhaled, the tension leaving him in a rush. Morgana gave him a quick, secretive smirk.
Eventually, like the castle itself, the brat of a brother grew on her. More than she ever expected.
He was nothing like the princes she had imagined: bold, curious, stubborn, and unpredictable.
Little did she know, this spark of boldness would one day define a King.