Chapter 1: His Return
The whites in his beard flew against the breeze as he walked by the same bench across from the same island every day at the same hour. He sat down on the bench as he waited again for the thousandth year for his dear old king to return.
He stared down at his feet again, things were different now. Modern. He was wearing his old boots, never worn out. He grinned at the memories he had with these boots, serving his king. Oh, what he would give to just see him again? Being his manservant was everything he had hoped for compared to now. He was alone and bitter. He had no hope now. He had no one. Everyone he ever loved died. He spent years after the last of the knights and the Queen passed away calling out for the Dragon, but he never came.
He must have died as well. Everyone was dying except himself. He couldn't die, his destiny would wait and he would wait for the other side of the same coin until the world finally broke apart, for his king was waiting for him as well. He wondered what it was like to sleep that long, did Arthur age as well? He never aged, he just enchanted himself to be Dragoon the Great because he couldn't bear to be young anymore, and looking in the mirror at the old, younger him was too painful.
He could have stopped Mordred in the war, he could have. It was his entire fault. He plopped himself on the bench as he stared out past the sunset onto the island where his dear old friend was sleeping. He waited, as he always would.
He tugged on his old red scarf he wore back then, still brighter than blood. He wrapped his arms around himself, trying to warm up his aging fingers that poked through his finger less gloves.
He scratched his chin as strangers walked by staring at the old homeless looking man. The strangers were always walking around with crazy magic; he'd like to say, in their hands. In fact, the strangers in this world do all kinds of magic and tricks; no one gets sentenced to death. It was strange walking through this land, and he still waited for his king.
He took off his beanie and stuffed it inside a bag he had kept from so long ago, still in perfect condition. He stared humming old tunes to himself, even the modern tunes he had heard from these strangers. It frightened the strangers out so he would chuckle to himself as his old man tricks still were working indeed.
He looked back at the island, he waiting for explosions or Arthur to come in a boat saying he was finally here. He didn't understand how Arthur could return even when he had set him off into the deep ocean into the pits of a depressing fire, but he still hoped.
But he could feel his hope slowing burning out like a flickering flame on an old candle. He was getting old inside his mind, but not his heart. His heart was too shattered to go on. He wanted to sleep, sleep like the rest of his friends. He wanted to just be gone, but he still, everyday, walked here, waiting and waiting.
He was currently staying with some family friends that were down a long line of Sir Percival and Sir Leon, he made sure they mentioned him in letters and he kept their paintings to show the very great grandchildren that he was indeed an old friend. The children love his tricks, who wouldn't from an old kooky man with a young heart?
He sighed. It has been approximately seven hours of sitting on the bench, he was never hungry now, and still his King had not returned. Something, something painful stabbed his mind and his heart. He found himself gripping the edge of the bench as he fell over. This was it. He was finally dying; the enchantments weren't as strong as he believed for a Great Sorcerer as himself. He was going to die, and finally be with his friends. Oh how he missed them so. He could see them all now, standing beside him. Smiling at their old friend.
"My friends," he whispered softly through his old raspy voice.
"Are you okay sir?" A short, fat man came wobbling over as he bent down to check up on the old man.
"I'm fine!" He responded bitterly, trying to hurry up his final death so he could see his friends, his beloved friends.
"I will call 911! Let's get you in my car!" The short man tried picking him up but he rolled away.
"No!" He said stubbornly, "Do not touch me! I will destroy you! Let me go! I want to die! I will see my friends finally!"
The short man looked at him, unafraid, but worried, "You really need to go to the hospital now, come on up, let's go old guy."
He tried fighting back but something was wearing him down, forcing him to just go with the short man. He wanted to stay though, he needed to wait for Arthur, and he had another two hours before he had to return home. He kept screaming through his low, raspy voice. Had he really sounded that old and mental?
"Let me go you baboon!" He cried out against the short man.
Something glowed from the island, making the old man's heart stop, falling into the short man's hands.
"Sir! Are you alright!? Wake up! Oh god. He's dead. Come on! Sir. Wake up!" He pounded against the old man's chest. The short man ran into his car, grabbing for his cell phone, dialing 911 quickly.
"Yes. I need an ambulance, this guy- What the hell!" He turned around back to the glowing light shooting from the island and then turning to the old man who was now glowing that same light near his heart.
"I.. I'll call back, something is happening down here!" He touched the button on his phone to end the call as he stared in amazement at the old man.
The old man's hair turned an ebony black as his beard melted away, his hair falling away to a shorter cut. The wrinkles on the old man's face straightened out, his hands transforming into a younger shade. The liver spots faded and his teeth appeared back, straightened and white as the stars in the sky. He could feel the chains of an old arm under his back and an old friend rubbing their hands through his hair and then they were gone and so was he, falling away mindlessly into the darkness.
The short man stared at the old man in awe again, "Sir.. Are you alright?" But he wasn't an old man anymore. The old man that lied there was now a young man, tall, skinny, now healthier looking. His face was young and bright with youth. He would have never thought there was an old man lying there before.
Bright blue eyes snapped open, and a younger and clearer gasp came from the young man's mouth as he had finally awakened.