Tournament Grounds, Camelot, Monday
Two days, the tournament had been on now: two days, and Arthur had yet to be unhorsed. He had been in several matches already, climbing steadily up the ranks. It'd been hairy once or twice, but nothing he couldn't handle.
If he was entirely honest, he'd been terrified that he'd lost his edge during his tenure at Fandom. That he wouldn't know how to aim a lance properly, or fight against someone trained in the regular fashion, or anticipate what moves a horse might make.
But he'd done well so far. In fact, he was now facing the final; just one step away from proving to himself that his fears were wrong, and proving to Uther that months of travel hadn't lessened his son's worth in any capacity.
[[ for minor OCD, Merlin, and yet more taken and altered from Merlin 2x02 ]]
If he was entirely honest, he'd been terrified that he'd lost his edge during his tenure at Fandom. That he wouldn't know how to aim a lance properly, or fight against someone trained in the regular fashion, or anticipate what moves a horse might make.
But he'd done well so far. In fact, he was now facing the final; just one step away from proving to himself that his fears were wrong, and proving to Uther that months of travel hadn't lessened his son's worth in any capacity.
[[ for minor OCD, Merlin, and yet more taken and altered from Merlin 2x02 ]]