The morning began like any other.With chores, training, routine. Arthur woke with the familiar dull ache in his arms and shoulders, greeting it without complaint. He moved through the yard with a quiet focus that would have been unremarkable to anyone watching. To Arthur, it felt like progress. That was the mistake.
Training started earlier than usual. Ector had gathered a few of the household guards —only a handful, men who normally handled patrols and repairs rather than combat drills. Their presence alone tightened something in Arthur's chest, with so many of them here the room feels cold a tension he could not shake.
Kay noticed immediately. "You trying to impress someone?" he muttered as they nimbly took their positions.
Arthur didn't answer. He adjusted his stance, fingers tight around the wooden sword, palms slick with early sweat. He had trained harder these past weeks. He was steadier. Faster. Surely that improvement mattered.
Ector's gaze swept over them. "You'll rotate opponents today," he said. "Not to win. To learn."
Arthur nodded, swallowing the lump in his throat.
The first bout went reasonably well. Arthur held his ground reasonable against one of the older guards, blocked more strikes than he missed, and even landed a clean hit that earned a brief nod of approval. Relief loosened his shoulders slightly.
Then the second opponent stepped forward.
The man was broader, heavier. His movements weren't flashy, but they were precise, economical. He waited. Arthur attacked first. That was mistake number one.
The guard deflected the blow easily, countering with a strike that rattled Arthur's arms and forced him back. Arthur recovered and swung again, harder this time.But it's a second mistake that he make.
Strength without control left wide openings. The guard stepped inside Arthur's reach and knocked the wooden sword from his hands with a sharp thud. Arthur froze. A heartbeat passed. Then the guard's staff struck his leg, sweeping it out from under him. Arthur hit the ground hard, all his breath knocked from his lungs.
Silence followed.
Ector raised a hand. "Enough."
Arthur pushed himself up, face burning hotter with embarrassment than the ache in his body. He retrieved his sword with stiff fingers and stepped back without looking at anyone. Kay didn't laugh.And that somehow made it more worse.
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The rest of training blurred together.
Arthur's movements grew sloppy. He hesitated when he shouldn't have, rushed when patience was required. Every correction from Ector landed heavier than the last. Each swing reminded him of the mistakes he had made, every stumble reinforced the limits of his skill.
When the session ended, Arthur left the yard immediately. He didn't want to wait for water. Didn't speak to Kay. He walked until the sounds of training faded behind him, then further still, until he reached the edge of the fields where the land dipped gently toward the river.
He sat heavily on a fallen log, eyes fixed on the rippling surface below. So much for progress.
Footsteps approached behind him.
Arthur didn't turn.
"You ran," the magician said lightly.
Arthur exhaled through his nose. "I walked."
"Semantics," the magician replied.
Arthur clenched his jaw. "If you're here to comment, just don't."
The magician settled nearby anyway, folding his legs comfortably. "You're upset because you failed."
Arthur shot him a glare. "And what of it."
"No," Merlin corrected, voice soft but insistent. "You're upset because you thought you wouldn't."
Arthur looked away, kicking a pebble into the river.
Merlin watched him in silence for a moment longer than comfortable. "You trained harder than before," he said finally. "You improved. You adapted. And yet, today reminded you of something really unpleasant."
Arthur's fingers dug into the dirt. "That effort isn't enough."
Merlin smiled faintly. "That talent isn't enough either."
Arthur stiffened. He wanted to argue, to reject the truth in those damn words, but the exhaustion that weighed him down was heavier than any pride he had left.
The magician stood, brushing off his robes. "Rest. Think carefuly, Or sulk. It makes no difference to the outcome."
"And what outcome is that?" Arthur asked bitterly.
Merlin glanced back, eyes glinting. "Of Course Growth."
Then he was gone, leaving Arthur with the whisper of wind through the reeds and the faint smell of wet earth.
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Arthur stayed by the river until late evening. He replayed the fight again and again in his mind, every misstep he laid bare. The weight of his expectations pressed down harder than the blows ever had. He wasn't special that here. That truth settled uncomfortably deep.
By the time he returned, the household had quieted. Ector sat by the fire, mending a piece of armor. He looked up as Arthur entered.
"You're late," Ector said.
Arthur hesitated. "I just needed time."
Ector nodded once. "Then, Sit."
Arthur did. For a long moment, neither spoke.
"You lost today," Ector said eventually.
Arthur swallowed. "Yes."
"Why?"
Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it. He thought of strength, speed, confidence —but none felt like the right answer.
"I just wanted to prove something," he said finally.
"To whom?"
Arthur hesitated. "To Myself."
Ector set the armor aside and faced him fully. "That's a heavy burden for a boy to carry."
Arthur looked down. "I don't even feel like one."
"I know," Ector said gently. "That doesn't mean you aren't."
The words landed quietly but firmly.
"You don't need to be the strongest," Ector continued. "You just need to survive your mistakes. Learn from them. And trust that your growth takes time."
Arthur nodded, eyes burning. "I'll do better."
"I know," Ector replied. "Training.Tomorrow."
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That night, Arthur layed bared awake, exhaustion weight heavy in his limbs. Failure lingered sharper than pain and a beating. But beneath it, something else stirred —determination, forcefully tempered now by humility. He had lost today. He would lose again. But he would not stop.
Arthur closed his eyes. Tomorrow, he would stand again. Not because he was destined. But because he chose it to be.