Chapter Text
When Arthur was still a boy, he quickly realized he didn’t have a normal family. At least not compared to what everyone else his young age of six appeared to have.
Yes, he had a father, but he wasn’t really his father. He didn’t take care of him, or play games with him, and he hardly even looked at Arthur. He couldn’t figure out for the life of him why he acted this way. Still, he eventually concluded in his young mind that it was out of the ordinary, since all the young children he saw in Camelot were usually accompanied by their fathers. Occasionally, his eyes would stray away from his teachings, and he’d see fathers with their sons playing, and he would wonder why he never had those moments with his own father. He tried not to dwell on those thoughts for too long.
He also knew he didn’t have a mother. Well, he supposes he did, as everyone has a mother, but his had died before he got to meet her. He didn’t know much else about her besides that, since his father refused to talk about her. He had a nursemaid, and he figured that would be the closest he would get to a mother. Her name was Helen, and she was kind. She was an older woman whose once brown hair was now beginning to grey, and she was the one who looked after Arthur most of the time. She would get him ready for the day, and make sure he got to his lessons on time, and on occasion would read him stories, if she had the time. For Arthur, she was close to a mother, but there was always a sense of distance that he could only assume came from his position as prince. There were times he hated being a prince.
Now, with that said, Arthur knew his family wasn’t terrible. His father wasn’t cruel - though he would later realize the opposite was true - just distant, which wasn’t much better if you asked him. There were countless times when Arthur would run up to him, desperate to show him something he had learned, or to tell him about something interesting he had seen that day, just for him to be dismissed with the wave of a hand.
One day, Arthur couldn’t stand it anymore, and so after his most recent attempt to connect with his father over dinner, which was promptly ignored by the king, he ran to his room, fighting back the tears he wasn’t supposed to show.
He was soon met by Helen, who had been sent after the boy to calm him down. She walked in, and instead of the lecture he was expecting, she just came and sat beside him on his bed, where he was currently curled up, looking as if he was attempting to hide from the world.
“Do you want to talk about what just happened?” Her voice was soothing, and there wasn’t an ounce of disappointment that Arthur had been expecting to hear.
Arthur shook his head instead of replying, fearing that if he had tried to speak, his emotions would get the better of him and he’d start crying and wouldn’t know how to stop himself.
Helen didn’t push him to speak, and instead rubbed his back in slow circles, trying to provide a small amount of comfort for the boy. She spoke softly beside him, “It isn’t your fault that the king acts the way he does to you.”
At that, Arthur finally looked up from his position, tears brimming in his eyes. “Then why does he act that way? Why can’t he even look at me?” His voice broke, and the tears he had desperately been trying to hold back began to fall. He knew he wasn’t supposed to cry, but he couldn’t help himself, despite it being one of the few things his father had actually attempted to teach him.
Next to him, Helen let out a sigh and looked away from Arthur, her gaze instead landing on something he couldn’t see outside his window. She was quiet for a moment, seemingly trying to determine what she could tell the boy.
“I don’t know, young prince. I imagine it has something to do with your mother.” She paused, looking over at Arthur, before a sad smile graced her lips. She continued, “Did you know you look an awful lot like her? You have her eyes and her hair.”
He hadn’t known that. He knew there were once portraits of her somewhere in the castle, but his father had gotten rid of them long before he ever got the chance to see them.
He shook his head at her, tears still filling his eyes, but there was also a look of childlike curiosity on his face at the mention of his mother. He took every opportunity he could to learn about her, seeing as his father refused to say anything.
Helen’s expression turned almost wistful as she looked away once more, gathering her thoughts before speaking, “I was a friend of your mother’s. I worked with her closely throughout her years of living here, and I will tell you that she was a kind woman whom your father loved very much.” She looked back at Arthur. “I imagine you remind your father a lot of her, with your looks and your personality. He couldn’t bear losing her, and unfortunately, you happen to be a reminder of that.”
At that, Arthur’s face fell once more, and he looked away from her, something akin to guilt overwhelming him. Helen immediately picked up on his switch and gently cradled his cheek, turning his face back to hers.
“But Arthur, you must know that’s not your fault. You bear none of the blame for what happened to her, and it is wrong of your father to treat you as though you do. I know you want his approval, but you mustn’t rely on it. Do you understand?” Her voice was soft, but her tone left no room for argument, and so Arthur merely nodded his head, trying to process what she had told him.
Helen smiled once more, and this time it was genuine. She ruffled the young boy’s hair and moved to get him ready for bed. “Now, young prince, I believe it is time for you to go to sleep.”
And with that, they fell into their normal routine; his mood significantly improved from her comfort. That night, he hadn’t even needed to ask her for a story, and he fell asleep to the gentle cadence of her voice regaling him tales of dragons and knights and people who needed saving.
As Arthur fell asleep, he reflected on what he had learned and thought that he could accept his unnatural family if his father could accept that he wasn’t his mother. Arthur hoped that day would come soon, and maybe he could feel slightly more normal than before.