(Authors Note: Me again! Ok so in my first story, The Sorcerers Lament; there are mentions of a seven year period of time that seems to leave people wondering. So I thought I should explain. See I had this idea a while back for kind of a mix of legend and BBC that seems cool, so I wrote it down. First in The Sorcerers Lament, but that isn't where this version begins. Far from it. There are subtle differences to several parts of the story. THIS TAKES PLACE SEVEN YEARS and a few months BEFORE THE SORCERERS LAMENT! But is not essential to understand said story. I do not own BBC's Merlin or the Arthurian Legend. I should also mention that in this version everyone thinks Morgana is dead after the events of The Darkest Hour part 2 and this takes place after Aithusa)
Farewells
Part 1 How?
How had everything gone so wrong? How?! The past few months had been wonderful. We had gotten Camelot back from Morgana, Arthur was king now and he'd even married Gwen. So how had everything gone so wrong for me in just one day?
Riding my black horse, silent as a shadow, through the forest I tried to fathom what had happened. Then my mind seized on it. The source of my problem. Lord Deric of Mercia, Lord Bayard's son. He had caused this. He was the reason I was leaving, the reason I could never come back.
All my problems had started just a few hours ago. We had gone hunting. Of course it couldn't just be a normal hunt. No it had to end with us getting attacked. This time they were bandits, sort of. They had once been guards, Cenreds fall had left many such men all over the five kingdoms.
There had been too many of them, so I had used my magic. I had saved Arthur and several of the other knights and we had won. I didn't know at the time that Deric had seen me. Why had he even come with us? Of course Arthur wanted good relations with Mercia and had invited him along, stupid politics.
Imagine my surprise when a mere hour after returning to Camelot I had found myself cornered by him. He had demanded the truth. I had tried to deny it, tried to lie. Arthur wasn't ready to learn about me yet, after all he had suffered because of magic he'd never accept it and all hope for Albion would be lost. But Deric couldn't be convinced. He knew, and he was ecstatic. But not because he was a friend of magic.
He wanted me to use my powers to help him dethrone not only his father but Arthur as well. He wanted to rule. I had naturally refused. I would never use my gifts against Arthur or Camelot. Well not intentionally, though the accidental murder of his father still ate at my mind. So Deric had given me a choice.
Either I helped him bring down the place I had come to call home, or he would not only see me burn but he would hunt down everyone I loved and destroy them.
However, I had a third choice. Disappear, simply vanish and never come back. I had chosen the third option.
