The Rise of Arthur Chapter 1

"Where did you get that boy?" a harsh voice asked. Sir Ector flinched under the force of it. Arthur had never seen him so thoroughly cowed before. "Where?!"

"M-Merlin gave him to me!" Ector exclaimed. "He appeared on my doorstep and told me to raise the boy!"

"What is his name?" the lady asked. Ector gulped. "What is his name?!"

"Arthur," Ector whispered. "His name is Arthur. Lady Morgause, if I had known--" Arthur crept forward and strained to hear what could cause Sir Ector of all people to be cut off.

"Peace, Sir Ector. I am not angry at you, but rather the meddling fool who took a boy from his family." The lady sighed. "Arthur, I know you are listening, please. Let me see you." Arthur took a few steps out and saw a woman who couldn't have been more than ten years his senior. Who was she? "Hello, young man. I am Morgause, your older sister." Arthur's eyes widened at that. Her harsh tone had softened to something far kinder. He looked up at her eyes and noticed that her eyes looked like the ones in his mirror. "You will be living with me and my husband if that is acceptable to you." Arthur looked at Ector, who nodded.

"I'll go," Arthur whispered clearly. "I want to know about our family." Morgause smiled at that.

It didn't take long to pack up Arthur's meagre possessions and say his goodbyes. Kay, in particular, was rather emotional over the boy's departure. "You better stay safe, you little rascal."

"Don't worry, Kay," Arthur assured the larger boy, "we'll always be brothers." Kay smiled as Arthur carried his bag over his shoulder and walked to where his older sister--he still couldn't believe that he had a sister--was waiting. "Morgause." He bowed slightly to the older woman, who smiled before helping him into the carriage.

"You have trained as a page, yes?"

Arthur nodded.

"You have, what, three years before you become a squire?"

"Yes, ma'am," Arthur nodded, "I am eleven this year, and Kay is eighteen."

Morgause frowned. "Arthur, we are kin. Call me sister if you prefer not to use my name. We are nobles, Arthur, but we are family first. The blood ties between us are tighter than those of class or sex."

Arthur didn't quite understand what she meant, but he nodded nonetheless.

"You will be tutored in how to be a noble's son, and you shall live in our castle with my husband and me."

"Thank you, sister," Arthur bowed respectfully, only to be smacked on the head.

"No deference is necessary, at least in private. We are family. In public, we shall have to be separate entities: me as Lot's queen, you as our ward. But in private, we are siblings first, nobles second. In time, you will understand what I mean."

At the castle of Orkney, King Lot and Morgause officially took over as Arthur's guardians until he reached maturity at twenty-one. He trained in the arts of war with the king and his knights, Morgause taught him the history of Britannia and their family, priests taught him about religion and philosophy, but the youngest members of the household taught him about family. Such as young Gawain, Morgause's firstborn. Arthur's nephew. Arthur felt a sense of kinship and a desire to protect the boy from the moment his older sister showed her son to his uncle. Arthur dedicated himself to the use of arms and right behaviour so he could not only protect Gawain but also craft a world where Gawain would be safe. Of course, by the time Arthur would be old enough to do this, Gawain would almost be a squire.

Gawain wasn't the only nephew Arthur had, though. Arthur grew quite fond of Gaheris as he watched the younger boy grow up, though his older brother Agravain was troubling, to say the least. He inherited all of Morgause's cunning and none of her tact. Out of the three, though, Gawain was easily Arthur's favourite; he'd even promised the lad that when Arthur was knighted, Gawain could be his squire only after asking for the right from King Lot and Morgause, of course, as their rights as parents and the rulers of Orkney came before his position as uncle and ward. Gaheris and Agravain would be worthy knights, too, but the younger wasn't even of age to be a page yet, and Agravain had just become one.

The youngest of Morgause's sons was Gareth, and a fairer child Arthur had yet to meet. He was the best of the four and all but their mother acknowledged it. Arthur's sister showed favouritism to none of her sons, though she was very careful to avoid neglecting any of them. Gareth was barely able to walk, much less talk, but his smiles and innocence provided a warmth to his uncle's heart, strengthening his desire to protect his family and build a kingdom worthy of them.

"Uncle Arthur?" Gawain asked as Arthur put up the sword he and King Lot had been sparring with. "Can we play some?" The seven-year-old held up two wooden swords, toys that Arthur and Gawain had carved one winter afternoon. Arthur looked over at King Lot, who nodded and smiled.

"Of course, nephew," Arthur smiled, and Gawain smiled and ran onto the training floor. Arthur took his sword and lightly tapped it against Gawain's.

As Gawain got older, Arthur's nephew developed a special trait. It was rather incredible: as the sun got higher in the sky, Gawain grew in strength. Arthur was very proud of this fact, especially as it showed that Gawain would be a great knight one day. Still, the young boy was no match for Arthur. Even at noon, he was too young and hadn't begun proper training, so Arthur was far stronger. But victory wasn't the goal of this fight. As Gawain was but a boy, Arthur would hold back some, even overdramatise blows Gawain landed, all so the boy wouldn't be discouraged.

After half an hour of light sparring, Gawain stopped, out of breath.

"You did very well, Gawain." Arthur smiled as he knelt down next to his nephew.

"I-I still couldn't land a blow on you," Gawain pouted before Arthur ruffled his red hair.

"You're still a sprout, nephew. Once you start your training as a squire, the gap between us will slowly decrease," Arthur assured him. "However, I will be a knight by then, so my skills will be even higher. I can't wait to see how strong you become."

Gawain smiled at his uncle, hugging him as Arthur reciprocated.

"Now, let's bathe before your mother brings out the switch."

The boy nodded as he took off towards his room, where the servants were already prepping his bath.

Arthur still preferred to draw his own bath. No matter how much his older sister complained about it, Arthur found something comforting in knowing that his bathwater was untouched by all but him. The older he got, the more attention he began to receive from the opposite sex. While flattered and certainly tempted, lessons from Morgause made him sceptical and cautious. Outward beauty wasn't enough, as that could be falsified through sorcery. The squire didn't believe her until another of their sisters, Morgana, showed up in the guise of an old crone. He'd been shocked when the old woman faded away to reveal a girl only a few years older than himself.

Morgana lived in a nunnery, where she'd somehow learned necromancy. Either way, Arthur was disillusioned by the perfect woman his male peers expounded over. Perhaps he was biassed, having grown up around such peerless women, but Morgause and Morgana approved of this. Arthur swore to never force marriage upon anyone: man or woman, knight or knave, noble or peasant. Some of that was because he pitied the poor man who would be forced to marry Morgana, but mostly because he couldn't bear the thought of his sisters being forced to do anything against their will. Even more, Arthur saw how unhappy marriages would lead to infidelity and death if such patterns were to remain. Morgause was very thorough in her education.

Arthur didn't experience true combat until he was almost a knight. He was twenty when he first found war. King Lot spoke often of the monsters that surrounded the borders of Orkney, but Arthur thought this was merely speculation or exaggeration until he saw them for the first time. Hideous things of unnatural make the beasts were, and they possessed greater strength than any man. Bugbears of varying shapes and sizes, only a few of which possessed the ursine features that gave them their name, were joined by a horde of defiled corpses whose original owners had sold themselves over to a witch's infernal magic.

Arthur was afraid when he saw the hordes. His very first battle, and facing such horrid monsters and distortions of the natural order--how could he fight against these forces? He looked over at his king, who smiled down at him from horseback before charging forward along with the other knights while the archers rained volleys of arrows at their foes. Hard iron cut through the bugbears with a spark and a flash of energy as their faerie nature made them vulnerable to the human metal. Arthur mustered up whatever warrior's courage he had and charged in after his king and brother-in-law. Arthur's sword slew several bugbears and ghouls before shattering under the force of Arthur's blows.

Arthur rode away from the conflict and dismounted, sending his horse to the back of the fray as he could no longer protect it himself. He held his shield firmly as he picked up one of the dead ghoul's swords, saying a prayer to the Lord for forgiveness and mercy before rushing back into the fray. Several knights had been forced to dismount as well, but King Lot continued to charge through, undeterred by faerie threats or undead blades.

Arthur smote ghoul after ghoul as the battle raged on, picking up new swords throughout the course of the fray as even the ancient undead blades shattered from the strength of his strikes. When the fighting ceased, over half of the knights King Lot had brought with him were slain by the foul forces, but the witch who summoned the baleful horde was gone. King Lot's charge proved successful at ending her threat, and Arthur learned a valuable lesson that day: protect your men and end the conflict as soon as possible.

The glory gained through bloodshed was made hollow compared to the blood cost. Arthur found himself, once again, in awe of Morgause and King Lot as they excelled at resolving conflicts on and off the battlefield.

"Come, Arthur!" one of the knights exclaimed as he clapped the boy on the back. "Let us feast, honour our kin through the celebration of our victory! For King Lot's glory!"

The other knights raised their horns in victory. Arthur joined in but remained solemn at the reminder of how many lives were lost to repel that horde. How could it have been prevented? He had seen the looks of fear on the faces of the townsfolk as the king's forces rode through the provincial towns to the battlefield but had assumed this was due to the nature of the horde. As Arthur rode back through the town, a small part of him wondered if the fear was due to the nobles and knights. Not one of his peers paid any attention to the townsfolk; only Arthur and King Lot gave the common people reassuring smiles and waves as they passed through town and proclaimed that their enemies were gone.

"Sister, why do the townspeople fear us?" Arthur asked Morgause during his lessons on the history of Britannia.

"Little brother, you possess a kinder heart than most nobles; perhaps that is why Merlin sent you to Sir Ector and Kay, both of whom possess strong, open hearts," Morgause began kindly.

"Sadly, many nobles are overcome by the power they hold, and they begin to abuse it because the common people do not have any strength to stop them. Lot and I are stretched thin preserving the unity of Orkney and maintaining peaceful relations with neighbouring kings, so we cannot fight this struggle, lest we lose our knights to betrayal and rebellion," Arthur frowned, causing Morgause to laugh softly.

"Arthur, a day will come when you get to decide what kind of Britannia you wish to live in, so hold on to these thoughts of yours. Hold on to these ideals with which you are aflame. They will be your greatest strength in the years to come."

When the day came for Arthur's twenty-first birthday, Morgause and Lot took Arthur and the children to Londinium, where he was to be knighted by the high queen herself. Queen Igraine of Cornwall had aged gracefully, or so Arthur's sisters had said, and only a few streaks of white had begun to run through her raven-black hair. Her eyes--one a blue more radiant than sapphires, the other a green deeper than the forests Arthur had been raised in--were of a quality that he had grown to associate with the gazes of his sisters. As he looked behind him to Morgause, the same paired eyes met his own, just as Queen Igraine's did when he looked forward again.

"My son," Queen Igraine began, "long have I awaited this day, and the Lord Almighty knows how often I wished it would come sooner. Your late father, the honourable King Uther, and I swore an oath to the great mage Merlin that we would entrust your childhood to him, so it is only now, at your maturity, that I may see your face once more," Igraine continued as she walked towards him. "This, my son, is the ceremonial sword of knighting, and with it, I shall reinstate you as my child."

Arthur bowed his head as his mother tapped each of his shoulders once before resting the blade on his head to remind him of the dangers knighthood brought.

"Rise, Sir Arthur, son of Uther and Igraine!" the queen, no, Arthur's mother, declared as Arthur stood up, taller than the regal woman who birthed him and his elder sisters. He heard loud, raucous applause, the likes of which Morgause and King Lot would never bestow. Arthur turned away from his mother to see Sir Ector and Sir Kay loudly applauding. The young, ruddy-haired knight slammed his large paws together as he cheered the foster brother's accomplishment.

"There is one last thing that needs to be accomplished," Queen Igraine mentioned.

She offered a hand to Arthur, who immediately outstretched his arm, allowing her to loop through it as she led him to a courtyard where a gleaming sword rested within an anvil atop a stone dais. "Go forth, Arthur, and test your worth against the sword."

The newly knighted Arthur didn't understand what his mother was referring to, but he obeyed. He walked to the sword, a strange sensation rushing through him as he approached. A fire lit up inside of him while all the ideas and desires he had ever dreamt of returned to him as he stepped atop the dais and put his hands on the sword's hilt.

Arthur cleared his mind of those ephemeral things, but the fire remained. Its guiding strength rushed through his arms and into his hands as the hilt warmed beneath him, and he gently pulled as if removing the sword from its scabbard. The blade answered easily, drawing itself from the stone and anvil with a satisfying hiss of metal against metal as the shining blade revealed itself to him.

He held it up and watched as light danced along the steel, its fine craftsmanship apparent. Surely, I have never seen a finer sword than this, Arthur thought.

He turned to see Sir Ector, Sir Kay, and King Lot kneeling before him as Morgause, Morgana, and even his mother bowed. "What is this? Why are you prostrating yourselves before me?"

"You are the son of the king, Arthur," Morgause explained, lifting up her head but remaining in a bow.

"You have been chosen by the sword to rule. Only Uther's heir could pull the sword from the stone. That is why we bow, little brother. Because we are the first to recognize you as the true king of Britannia."

"Hail, King Arthur," Kay proclaimed, with Sir Ector and King Lot echoing him. "Long live the king!"

"Please, be at ease around me! We are not in court or where such appearances matter!" Arthur asked, and Morgana smiled despite her noble airs. She may have been the wisest person he had ever met, but sometimes Arthur swore she was possessed by some fae spirit intent on mischief.

"So says the king," Morgana commented as she and the others stood up and drew near to Arthur. "Long may you reign, little brother. Long may you reign."

Arthur looked at his family--bound both by blood and by heart--and wondered what his future possibly held for them. As he looked down at the sword in his hand, though, the steel warm from the burning passion in his breast, Arthur knew one thing for certain. He would build his kingdom, not for himself nor for his ideals, but for the ones who had nurtured his ideals and reared him from boyhood to knighthood. His family would be his greatest treasure, no matter how much gold or tribute he received. This he swore upon the sword that made him king and upon the Lord who shaped his soul.

King Arthur, long may he reign.