Arthur led the boy down the road, keeping a steady pace. The boy stumbled slightly on uneven ground, brushing dirt from his knees, but Arthur didn't comment. He had seen worse. He had been worse himself.
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"You… you saved me," the kid said finally, voice small and breathless. "The bandits—they were going to…" He swallowed hard. "I thought I'd… die."
Arthur's grip on his sword tightened lightly. "I told you. You're safe now. That's what matters."
The boy nodded once, then glanced at him with wide eyes. "How… how did you fight like that? I've never… seen anyone fight like that."
Arthur smirked faintly, brushing a hand through his messy hair. "Good. I'm supposed to be scary. You should remember it."
The kid's eyes flickered between awe and fear. "I… I will."
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Arthur slowed, tilting his head. "Kid. You have a name, right? You're not just… a boy running around getting rescued like a princess by a knight in shining armor."
The kid blinked. Then his shoulders straightened. "P… Percival," he said softly, a little unsure.
Arthur's eyes scanned him carefully. The name suited him. Solid, earnest, without unnecessary flair. He nodded once. "Percival. Got it. You'll need to remember it—if you survive the roads ahead, that is."
Percival blinked. "I… I will. I want to."
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Arthur's voice softened slightly, though he didn't look at the boy directly. "The world isn't safe. Not for kids. Not even for people who can fight a little. You need to learn to think ahead, to move carefully."
Percival followed closely, taking in Arthur's posture, the way his eyes scanned the road and the forest edges. "I will," he whispered. "I… I want to help. I want to learn."
Arthur didn't respond immediately. Instead, he let the words hang, letting the boy feel the weight of them. Being protected once wasn't enough.
To survive, he would have to fight—not just with swords, but with mind and heart.
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The road stretched on beneath them, sunlight filtering through leaves, dappled shadows tracing patterns on the dirt. Arthur's leg still ached slightly, a dull reminder of the orc and the goblins before him. But he didn't limp visibly. Not yet. He didn't want Percival to see weakness—not fear, not doubt.
"You'll have to keep up," he said finally, voice sharper now, teasing but not unkind. "I don't stop for anyone. Not even knights-in-training."
Percival straightened instinctively, trying to match Arthur's pace. "I… I can keep up," he said, though his voice wavered.
Arthur glanced at him, green eyes flashing. "We'll see," he said with a faint grin. "We'll see how long that lasts."
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The boy, Percival, quickened his step, courage bolstered by the presence of someone who seemed untouchable yet human. His small hands clutched the straps of his tattered bag. Every sound—the distant call of birds, the whisper of wind through grass—kept him alert.
Arthur noticed. And he allowed it. He didn't hand him the reins, but he didn't clip his wings either. The road was hard.
And lessons were harsher. But survival demanded attention, and survival now had a name: Percival.
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Hours passed in silence, broken only by occasional warnings from Arthur when roots or rocks threatened to trip the boy. Percival didn't complain. He simply focused, as though every step was an unspoken promise.
Finally, the boy spoke again. "Arthur… you didn't have to fight them all alone. Why…?"
Arthur's gaze remained ahead. "Because if I don't, no one else will. That's what happens when the world doesn't care. You either step up—or you get crushed. You remember that, Percival."
Percival nodded slowly, absorbing the weight behind the words. "I… I'll remember."
Arthur allowed himself a small, fleeting smile. "Good. You'll need it."
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The sun dipped lower, casting longer shadows across the road. Arthur's pace didn't waver, but he allowed his hand to brush against the boy's shoulder—light, almost imperceptible. A silent acknowledgment that he had been noticed, that his efforts mattered, even if only to one small person.
Percival felt the touch and straightened, a faint flush rising to his cheeks. He wasn't used to that kind of attention. It wasn't pity. It wasn't fear. It was… respect. And something else he couldn't name yet.
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Arthur glanced down once, just briefly. "Don't fall behind. Not now, not ever. The roads ahead won't wait for hesitation."
Percival met his eyes, determination brimming despite exhaustion. "I won't," he said, firm.
Arthur's green eyes softened just slightly. "That's what I like to hear," he said. "Now, keep moving."
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The road stretched on, winding toward forests yet unseen and villages unvisited. Shadows deepened, the evening air cooling around them. Percival didn't falter, even as fatigue gnawed at his legs. Arthur noticed, approving silently, letting the boy learn that courage wasn't the absence of fear—it was moving forward despite it.
And somewhere in the distance, Arthur knew, challenges waited. Not just bandits, not just goblins or orcs. Real trials. Pain. Choice. Growth.
Percival's small voice broke the quiet. "Arthur… will you teach me?"
Arthur's lips curved, faint and wry. "I don't know if the world is ready for you yet, Percival. But… we'll see. Step by step."
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And so they walked on. The boy with a name. The boy with a promise. The boy who had survived, for now, the harshness of the road—and the boy who would grow, in time, into someone more than a survivor.
Percival.
Arthur knew it, now. He would remember it.
And the road stretched on before them, endless, unyielding, and full of the kind of challenges that forged kings and heroes alike.
(A/N: you know when writing the previous chapter I realized Morgan would not just save and give Arthur a normal kid so instead of just treating him as a passing character I make him one of the side character's to make it into a proper introduction of a new character.)