Chapter Text
Arthur’s boot scraped against a loose cobblestone in the courtyard as he paced around (mental note: tell father to tell the palace artisans to fix that…and tell whichever idiot manservant he has this week to get rid of the scuff mark and polish his boots until they sparkle).
Usually, he has squire duties to attend to at this time of day, but knight training was cancelled for the war meeting currently being conducted in the council meeting chambers. Only a boy of 14 summers, his father deemed him ‘too immature’ to attend such a serious meeting. Since his birthday, he had been allowed to sit in on some of the more mundane council sessions (which were terribly boring). But a war meeting…now that sounded interesting.
He had to deal with many annoying things as a prince (the aforementioned council sessions, stupid Morgana and her stupid smug looks, incompetent servants that don’t heat up his bathwater enough - looking at you, Finn), but military strategies and knight training were his favourite. This was so unfair!
Finding that the loose cobblestone had broken into chunks when he wasn’t looking, Arthur kicked a piece as hard as he could. Keeping with the theme of Arthur suddenly dealing with annoying and unusual things today, a little pebble from the cobblestone sailed far across the courtyard and managed to tumble into the slightly open door of what Arthur knew to be a servant's passage, though he couldn’t remember seeing it before. Oh well, it’s not like he kept track of each and every thing the servants do. Technically speaking, Arthur wasn’t really *supposed* to use the servant’s passages - they were ‘beneath’ him, but also technically, Arthur would one day rule the kingdom, the palace, and all of its passages. So essentially, he could do whatever he wanted. And right now, the young prince felt there was nothing better to do than chase the damned pebble.
With most of the guards off protecting the council chambers, no one saw the boy slip into the passageway, and the heavy oak door clicked shut.
The hallway was small, crowded, and very dusty. Like it hadn’t been used in years. Yet the hinges weren’t rusted over and made no noise. Arthur followed the passage around seemingly random twists and bends with no sense of direction except a vague descent into the underbelly of the castle. Another peculiar thing was that he held no torch, and with no windows, the passage should have been as dark as night, though Arthur could see perfectly well. His eyes could pick up the tiny markings etched into the stones, silly, nonsensical scratches that, if he didn’t know better, could have sworn were emitting a soft glow. He scrubbed his face, rubbing the bridge of his nose. Must have been a spider web.
Eventually, he came to the end of the odd passage. Standing opposite him was what appeared to be an ordinary, impassable wall. What kind of servant’s passage was this? It didn’t go anywhere a usual passage would go, like the kitchens or the laundry rooms. Arthur turned and slumped against the wall to rest, finding he still had nothing better to do.
Unfortunately for him (again), his rest didn’t last long as the wall behind him gave out and he tumbled to the ground. Blinking owlishly at the now much-further-away roof, Arthur sat up slowly as recognition filtered into his confused mind.
Did father know there was a secret passage from the courtyard to the lower dungeons? Arthur definitely hoped so, because otherwise, that was a serious flaw in their security. This was definitely no ordinary servant's passage. Luckily for Arthur (and any future prisoners/conspirators planning a jailbreak), the exit to the passageway was very conveniently hidden in an alcove, outside of the guards’ view. Even from here, Arthur could hear the slackers playing dice games. Seriously, he was definitely going to have a chat with Father about this.
Now, option one was to go back down the passage with his curiosity satisfied and go back to whatever he was meant to be doing. On the other hand, he could keep going further down. He usually wasn’t allowed near the lower dungeons, and this was his chance to explo- *Ahem* investigate thoroughly to make sure his report to Father was perfect. Yep. In fact, as the future king of Camelot, this was practically his duty! Father will be so proud of his initiative!
Arthur scrambled to his feet in a very dignified, princely sort of way. For all his love of knighthood and armour, he was rather relieved to not be wearing his chainmail, as that certainly would have alerted the guards to his presence.
He paused for a moment to survey his surroundings, definitely not to steel his nerves, because a prince of Camelot does not get nervous. He grabbed a torch from the wall and set off down the dark, twisting steps leading to the lower dungeons.
The lower dungeons were…okay fine, they were creepy. It was so quiet; no sound of rustling leaves or wind, no faint noises from the lower town’s markets. It was silent this far down beneath the castle, even the crackle of the fire from his torch seemed to be quieter under the oppressive air. They didn’t have any prisoners down here, so no guards either. The cells were dusty and mostly bare, besides the odd rotting blanket or some rusted chains.
Oh, ew. Was that really..? Yep, okay, that's an actual skeleton. Gross. Arthur wrinkled his nose and continued forward. He could see down the end of the hallway that there was another set of stairs going even further down. How far underneath the city was he? His heavy footsteps bounced around the stone walls, unusually muffled. Almost like sound itself didn’t want to exist down here.
Finally, he reached the end of the hallway. Rubbing the space between his eyes again, he set off down the (hopefully) final set of stairs. Despite how creepy this place was, he wasn’t really sure why Father did not want him down here. For all the dust and gross skeletons, there wasn’t anything dangerous to justify the decision. Not that he was questioning his father, the man was the King of Camelot; he must have had his reasons.
Arthur’s brain seemed to recognise something at the bottom of the stairs before Arthur himself did, because his thoughts suddenly went completely quiet as his foot touched the bottom platform. Even with his torch, Arthur squinted in the darkness - the light of the fire barely penetrated the thick wall of inky blackness before him. The young prince could tell that he was standing on a thin ledge of jagged rock. It felt secure…enough. Not in danger of crumbling beneath his feet, at the very least.
Arthur picked up a small rock and chucked it in front of the ledge into the darkness and counted. One, two, three, four, five…there. The muffled sound of impact reached his ears. Arthur could admit, at least to himself, that he was no expert in judging spaces by sounds, but he knew enough to realise he was in a massive cavern directly below the entire castle, and maybe some of the upper town too. The sound had echoed distantly, giving him reason to believe the cavern was just as wide as it was tall, and he didn’t even know how high up the cave went.
The blue-eyed prince turned his head sharply to his left. What was that noise? It was almost like a bird of some sort, like the flapping of wings, maybe? But how large would a bird have to be to make that-
“I SMELL PENDRAGON BLOOD.”
A deep, inhuman, and extremely angry voice rang out, echoing over and over as the sound bounced around the cavern. Arthur’s heart pounded in his ribcage, hand clenching the wooden handle of the torch. He should have brought his sword, or…or something, anything that he could use to defend himself against whatever it was that apparently lived down here.
Before he could tell his legs to *move*, a heavy thud landed somewhere in front of him. Tingles shot up his spine, and his eyes spontaneously decided to adjust to the darkness.
What. the. Fu-
.
So that's why father didn't want him down here.
.
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DID FATHER KNOW ABOUT THE GIANT DRAGON LIVING BENEATH THE CASTLE?