Arthur had spent his entire afternoon poking at the horses. That had been excellent enough. But now, now he was out to do something more important. More grown-up. More... sophisticated.

He was practicing his tracking. Maybe then he'd soon bring home good prey for Father. Perhaps if he got a good stag, he'd be praised for it - Father never seemed satisfied with the few rabbits he managed to bring home when he was out with the knights.

But he didn't have any weapons or traps nearby, so reading tracks it'd have to be.

It wasn't like he was hungry. He'd stolen acquired some food from the common room earlier and had it on him at his side.

[[ for a boy with ears ]]
Some of the help had brought in extra blankets during the night.

That had to be it.

Arthur, barely-waking, decided not to pay it too much attention. He was warm and comfortable, snuggling further into his covers: there was barely any light coming in through the window yet, so he wasn't expected up and in Father's throne room or out with the other pages yet.

He could sleep in. Just a little bit.

[[ for that other wee medieval one ]]

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bitchprince

December 2020

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