Chapter Text
As the people of Camelot began to enter the small valley, Arthur's heart sped up. Over a hundred of his people, standing across from him. Percival and Leon at their front whilst they awaited their king, and the sword which stood in solid stone, only a few metres away from them.
"The hell are you playing at?" he said, turning to Merlin with a glare in his eye.
"I'm proving that you are their leader and their king."
"That sword is stuck in solid stone."
"And you're going to pull it out."
"Merlin, it's impossible."
"Arthur, you're the true king of Camelot."
Arthur's chest grew tight as his breathing grew unsteady. He looked behind him to the people gathered, heart plummeting as he realised soon they would all see him just as Tristan did. The only thing special about him the privilege he gained from a crown. He might have said it was almost sweet, the amount of faith Merlin had in his abilities. But this time Merlin's faith had taken them too far. "Do you want me to look like a fool?"
"No, I'm going to make you see that Tristan is wrong. That you aren't just anyone, you are special. You and you alone can draw out that sword."
Arthur looked deep into Merlin's eyes, before slowly stepping back and drawing his sword, plunging it into the ground in one smooth motion. "You better be right about this," he says, before walking up to where Excalibur stood. Its hilt could rival the finest of Camelot. Deep brown with golden spirals, leading to the golden pommel at its top. Down the blade, front and back, Arthur recognised druidic runes. If he ever did get the sword free, he thought, he would have to find out what they meant. He glanced up once more at the many people who stood, watching him patiently, waiting earnestly for him to prove his right to the throne. To prove he was fit to be their legendary king, once and for all. Heart rate spiking, he wrapped both his hands around the hilt and struggled to move the sword even an inch.
He knew it, Merlin had been wrong all along. He wasn't a king, he was a nobody. He was the same as everyone else once he took away his crown. He struggles once more, the people remaining silent through his efforts before Merlin spoke once more from behind him as if he could read the king's thoughts.
"You're destined to be Albion's great king," Merlin said, as Arthur dropped his hands by his side. "Nothing, not even this stone, can stand in your way."
Slower this time, Arthur raised one hand around the hilt. Trying with all his might to lift the sword but to no avail. "Have faith," came the voice from behind him, as it chased away his anxiety and grounded him once more. Arthur straightened his back and took a deep breath. His arm relaxed, as he forced his mind to quiet down. He closed his eyes, reaching out through his mind to find a place of calm. He lifted upwards, and he felt a shift. The sword began to move upwards, and for a split second, he found himself right where he wanted to be. A time of hope, a time where he had a destiny.
But as soon as the sword began to move, it stopped. No longer could he feel it beneath his hands. No longer could he feel the warm sun on his face, or hear the small animals running through the forest. He opened his eyes and found himself in a part of the woods he had never seen. A man's scream pierced through the forest, and Arthur found himself running without a moment's hesitation. He came to a clearing and saw Gwaine. Arms tied behind him as his head hung between his shoulders. Percival came running into view, and he stepped forward to help them both. Yelling out to them, yet no noise escaped his mouth. Arthur ran up to the pair, tried everything to get their attention, but could only watch as Gwaine fell towards Percival. "I failed." The words he died with on his lips. The young king turned to look at Percival, who had brought his head to Gwaine's. He looked heartbroken if Arthur had ever seen such a thing. As the large knight began to sob, Arthur found the clearing fading away, until he was elsewhere entirely.
It was a castle like no other he had been in. It was dark, too dark. Like the castle had not seen the sun in many years. As the room came into focus, he saw Gwen across the room. Dress torn and frayed, running to her brother as Elyan fell to the ground, his hand held close to his side as crimson blood stained his chainmail. Arthur had seen many mortal wounds in his time. As Gwen held her dying brother, Arthur tried again to gain their attention. Running across the room as he saw himself and Merlin run in from the other door. He ran up by his own side. Surely if anyone could see him it would be him, he thought to himself. But before he could open his mouth, he was gone.
Arthur was in the forest again. He saw Gwen, riding. Rushing back towards Camelot as if someone was on her tail. He saw Morgana. Dress black as night, reach out her hand towards his queen. Gwen flew backwards, and he was at the tower again. Gwen looked a mess. Dishevelled compared to the forest. As if Morgana had made her walk for days on end. Her hair was matted and tangled, and her dress was torn. Tear tracks lined her face as she was pulled in close by Morgana for a hug. Arthur could only watch helplessly as he saw Gwen return his sister's gesture. Everything faded black, and they were back in Camelot. He saw himself and Gwen at dinner, or at least he assumed that's what it would have been. Instead, his figure lay unaware and unawake in his chair. He watched horrified as Gwen pulled a vial from her pocket, and poured a few drops into his ear before smirking and putting the vial away.
Next, he saw merlin. Crying, Distraught. Almost more heart-broken than Percival had been in the forest. Arthur wondered which girl had taken his fancy, which girl had then broken his heart into a million small pieces. Until he looked upon his bed and saw it was no fair maiden at all. Instead, he saw himself, lying still. Too still. As Merlin sobbed only a few feet away from where he lay. Arthur felt his chest begin to ache. He wanted to do something, anything to comfort Merlin. But it was too late. Merlin was gone.
Arthur's heartbreak only worsened when his father stood in the throne room before him. Eyes glaring at whoever must be behind Arthur as he lowered his voice. "You have magic." Arthur turned to see who his father had been talking to, but before he could make out a face, he was in a valley.
The valley's walls were made of stone, and the whole world around him seemed devoid of life. The reason soon became apparent as he saw Merlin and Mordred thrown through the air by Morgana as if they were a couple of rag dolls. He looked around the desolate landscape, trying to find himself, but as soon as he arrived he was gone.
It was another citadel he had never seen. Mordred knelt before Morgana on a throne. "It is Merlin." The boy said, before Morgana's eyes widened in recognition and she opened her mouth to speak. Before he could hear her reply, he was in a forest.
Merlin lay on the ground in front of Morgana. A sheer drop of the cliff face looked to likely for Arthur's comfort. He raced forwards, hands reaching to grab onto Merlin, but he was helpless to do anything but watch as he saw his manservant tumble over the cliff. Arthur's heart stopped in his chest, as his hands began to shake. He wanted it over. Whatever this was. He wanted it gone.
Mordred and Morgana stood next to each other in the dead of night. Their eyes burning gold as fire rained down on Camelot from the sky. First Merlin, now his kingdom. If he ever saw Morgana or this Mordred ever again, he was going to end them. Rage burned through Arthur's mind as he rushed towards the pair, only for them to be gone.
He was back in a valley. This one he recognised. The valley of Camlann. Around him, he only saw chaos. Carnage. Death and destruction at every turn. Arthur looked into the reflection in front of him and saw himself in his own skin. He felt himself turn, sword crashing on someone else's. Yet the movements were not his own. Arthur's heart hitched as Mordred stood in front of him. He shouted at his other self. Yelling. Telling him to fight back. But he hesitated. Arthur saw the hate in Mordred's eye as the boy stepped forward and plunged his sword into Arthur's side.
Everything went silent for a split second until it went dark at long last. "I'm sorry to have shown you such horrible things, My king," a woman spoke out to him through his mind. "But alas, it is the only choice I have. With the path you and Emrys are on, this will be your future. The golden age of Camelot, the time of Albion, will never come. I entrust this knowledge to you, Arthur Pendragon, in the hopes that you can lead Camelot into its golden age, just as has been foretold. I have shown you these events, my king, in the hopes that they will never come. Take care who to trust, young Pendragon. For you will face many challenges as king, and your rule has only just begun."
Arthur's eyes snapped open as he stood in the clearing, sword high above his head. He looked up at it, unable to believe what he had just seen. As Leon began the chants of "Long live the king," which rung loud and proud throughout the woods, and as Merlin stood behind him no doubt with a smile on his face, Arthur had only one thing one his mind. He had to set things right. He had to prevent what he had seen.
For the love of Albion, he would succeed.