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Long ago in a time of wizards and dragons, there was a kingdom and it's king. The King was kind and loyal, he was elegant and a warrior. He protected his kingdom and its people with a fierceness not often seen. At his side was a man who wielded great power of his own, protecting his King and the people that were loved by his King. But one day that came crashing down.
They were betrayed by one in their ranks. One of the twelve.
It was a fierce battle, the traitors against the loyal. But it all ended when the King took an arrow meant for the Wizard.
"No!" The Wizard cried when he saw what was happening. How dare they. How could the King...? For him? He watched the man fall, and all the fighting around him seemed to slow and everything went hazy as he barely registered the amount of power pulsing from him and slamming into the traitors. But he knew. He knew no power would be enough to bring the King back. He went to his knees next to his friend. "You idiot."
The King chuckled, but even that sounded pained. "You are my friend, I could not allow you to be hurt." He coughed.
"I would have survived the injury." He was not knowledgeable in healing, "You are the King, Albion needs you more. The people need you." The unspoken I need you lingering between them. Always unspoken and so obvious. The Wizard and King meant so much to each other.
The King merely shook his head. "I ask that you return Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake. She will keep it safe until I return." He pressed the sword into the other's hands.
"No. No." The Wizard shook his head, but he didn't drop the sword. "No..." He couldn't focus on anything, not the power pulsing from him, keeping the traitors at bay, not the tears on his face. Just the fact that the King, his friend, was dying in front of him and he could do nothing.
The King looked at his Wizard, a tired smile on his face. He knew the end was coming, he could feel it. "I am glad you are my friend Merlin." He touched the Wizard's face just a moment before his hand dropped to the ground and his eyes closed.
"Arthur?" The wind and commotion around them stopped and he stared down at the body of his friend, his King. No. No. "No!" He screamed before another pulse of power, stronger than the rest, came from him. He couldn't control himself, not like this. Not when his center, his friend, had been ripped away from him.
Arthur Pendragon, the king of Albion, was dead.
---
John shot up in bed, gasping for breath. He pressed a hand to his face and took a deep breath. Another nightmare. So many had piled up over the years. Loosing Arthur, the two Great Wars. Even recent events were enough to make him frightened. He got out of bed and walked over to the window. After opening the blinds, he stared out at the blinking lights. Albion had changed so much in recent time. Just the past hundred years alone. He let out a sigh.
There had been one time in all these years the had started to feel Arthur return. During the second Great War... The need for him was great then than it had been years earlier during the first. He pressed a fist to the window and sighed. "Arthur, we need you..." There was the unspoken, I need you. It was always unspoken. He had never dared tell the King. He couldn't, not when he had a Queen that adored him so and who he adored in return.
He let out a long held breath and looked back out to the night sky. He didn't need this flatshare, but it was convenient to be around people again.
They were betrayed by one in their ranks. One of the twelve.
It was a fierce battle, the traitors against the loyal. But it all ended when the King took an arrow meant for the Wizard.
"No!" The Wizard cried when he saw what was happening. How dare they. How could the King...? For him? He watched the man fall, and all the fighting around him seemed to slow and everything went hazy as he barely registered the amount of power pulsing from him and slamming into the traitors. But he knew. He knew no power would be enough to bring the King back. He went to his knees next to his friend. "You idiot."
The King chuckled, but even that sounded pained. "You are my friend, I could not allow you to be hurt." He coughed.
"I would have survived the injury." He was not knowledgeable in healing, "You are the King, Albion needs you more. The people need you." The unspoken I need you lingering between them. Always unspoken and so obvious. The Wizard and King meant so much to each other.
The King merely shook his head. "I ask that you return Excalibur to the Lady of the Lake. She will keep it safe until I return." He pressed the sword into the other's hands.
"No. No." The Wizard shook his head, but he didn't drop the sword. "No..." He couldn't focus on anything, not the power pulsing from him, keeping the traitors at bay, not the tears on his face. Just the fact that the King, his friend, was dying in front of him and he could do nothing.
The King looked at his Wizard, a tired smile on his face. He knew the end was coming, he could feel it. "I am glad you are my friend Merlin." He touched the Wizard's face just a moment before his hand dropped to the ground and his eyes closed.
"Arthur?" The wind and commotion around them stopped and he stared down at the body of his friend, his King. No. No. "No!" He screamed before another pulse of power, stronger than the rest, came from him. He couldn't control himself, not like this. Not when his center, his friend, had been ripped away from him.
Arthur Pendragon, the king of Albion, was dead.
---
John shot up in bed, gasping for breath. He pressed a hand to his face and took a deep breath. Another nightmare. So many had piled up over the years. Loosing Arthur, the two Great Wars. Even recent events were enough to make him frightened. He got out of bed and walked over to the window. After opening the blinds, he stared out at the blinking lights. Albion had changed so much in recent time. Just the past hundred years alone. He let out a sigh.
There had been one time in all these years the had started to feel Arthur return. During the second Great War... The need for him was great then than it had been years earlier during the first. He pressed a fist to the window and sighed. "Arthur, we need you..." There was the unspoken, I need you. It was always unspoken. He had never dared tell the King. He couldn't, not when he had a Queen that adored him so and who he adored in return.
He let out a long held breath and looked back out to the night sky. He didn't need this flatshare, but it was convenient to be around people again.
