A/N:
First off, I want to apologize for my lack of writing skills. As I said in my profile, I'm more of a reader than a writer. In any case, my fictional writing skills are somewhat lacking.
This whole this started out as an outline for my character's backstory for a DnD session based off of the original legends of King Arthur and The tv series Merlin.
I began to write out the backstory in to get more into character, so that outline evolved into a short story. Then work was slow on some days. I began to write out dialogue to keep myself alert and soon my short story turned into this monstrosity that keeps evolving. I decided to post it here after realizing that I had reached 44 pages on my Word document.
Without further ado, I don't own DnD or Merlin (is this disclaimer even necessary or is it just a FF tradition? I'm honestly curious because I don't remember seeing anywhere on FF stating that disclaimers were necessary and yet everyone does them).
"Captain Darian has surrendered! Camelot has been reclaimed!"
Shouts filled the lower town and the citadel, celebrating the end of King Brutus II and his tyrannical reign. The townsfolk who had stayed behind began leaving the safety of their homes. Upon seeing the soldiers of their former king surrendering, hope began to fill them. Long have the citizens of Camelot lived under the mercy of these men who would often exploit their status as members of the royal army to push around those they had supposedly sworn to protect.
Within these celebrations, a few of the men and women looked towards the citadel in fear. It was true that a tyrant had just been dethroned, but who could say whether their new king would truly be any different. Upon one of the higher towers facing the lower town stood a group of men, few of whom had reached their thirtieth summer. These young men made up part of the core of this rebellion. With the war over, many of these men joined in the celebrations. All were laughing and congratulating one another on a job well done, all except two.
Slightly separate from the others, these two men looked out on Camelot with solemn faces and relief in their eyes. Both men were younger than most of the men who participated in taking back Camelot, yet they were also the two who had begun this entire campaign. The older of the two had only recently reached his twenty-first summer. Despite his youth, his physic revealed that this man was not one to underestimate. A trained eye could tell that, although this man was more accustomed to working with a plow, he was extremely skilled with the blade. Standing over six feet tall and clad in heavy chainmail and armor, he posed a formidable sight.
The younger man did not appear to belong in battle. At first glance, he did not give off a warrior's presence like his friend. He was young, only few months shy of reaching his twentieth year, and stood two inches shy of six feet with no armor. Despite this, one could not help but feel that there was more to this man after looking him in the eye. Although normally filled with mirth, there was a certain depth to them that hinted at some hidden power.
Both of these stood away from the rest of the men, looking out over Camelot with relief and a burning hope in their eyes. It was these two men who began the fight to free Camelot from King Brutus II. They had suffered much to achieve this victory and were ready to begin the healing process that always followed war.
The one standing on the right leaned forward onto the stone railing in front of him, causing the slighter older man standing next to him to shift his attention.
"This is the end of the beginning."
"Hm? What do you mean by that?" asked the older man confused by his friend's words. "This feels like the beginning of a new era more than anything."
"That as well, but this is also the end of our old lives, our beginnings if you will. Our lives will never be the same after today," was the younger man's wistful reply.
The other man sighed. "They haven't been for some time now, not since we discovered our destiny that day."
"You're right. It's hard to believe that it has only been three years since you pulled Excalibur from the stone."
The other man hummed his agreement.
"By the way, did you ever find out how Excalibur ended up in Stonehenge? I still find it hard to believe that a sword from Avalon just appeared in that stone."
The younger man stared at his friend, incredulous. "Is it really all that hard to believe?"
His friend stared back, knowing that his friend was deflecting the question.
The younger man threw up his arms in exasperation. "Do you really believe I have had the time to look into it or even ask around about it?! Unless you have forgotten, we have been fighting a war which we just barely won not an hour ago."
The older man continued staring at his friend, unimpressed with his excuse. "You were just as curious as I was, if not more so. And, unlike me, you seem to have this inability to ignore anything that peaks your interest."
The younger man raised his hands in a placating gesture. "Alright, alright! You're right, I did figure it out. But, I am not telling you anything until you get that crown on your head," he said while pointing at his friend's head.
The older man's face grimaced. "Don't remind me."
"Oi! No complaining! You insisted on taking back Camelot now…"
"And I didn't hear you complaining about that," the older man interrupted, "or the fact that you were coming with me on my quest to take back Camelot. Besides, I am not complaining. Just…reluctant to place myself above Camelot's citizens."
The younger man looked at his childhood friend. He could see now the weight that this burden was placing on him. His eyes softened with empathy, understanding somewhat the burden given to those with great power. "That is the role a king must take, but you will not be alone."
"How can I place myself above them?" continued the man, not even registering what his friend had said. "I was one of them once. Just a farmer whose only worries were to care for the land. Now I am expected to worry over and care for an entire people, an entire nation."
"You did well caring for your family's farm on your own while your father was ill. You can apply those same principles with your citizens."
"These are not crops or cattle we are speaking of, Merlin! They are real people with hopes and dreams, fears and trials. Am I capable or even worthy of leading them? I just..." he trailed off.
"Yes. Without a doubt." was Merlin's immediate response.
"How can you be so sure?" his friend asked, almost pleading for confirmation that what he was doing was the right thing.
"Because I know you, Arthur. I know your heart. You care for these people, your people. Look at what you have accomplished already. Camelot was a kingdom oppressed under a tyrant's rule. Fear permeated this kingdom, fear of bandits who ran unchecked throughout the land and of King Brutus' own men. You have given this land hope again. Already there have been reports of bandits fleeing Camelot because they know that it is only a matter of time before you drive them out by force. Camelot has also become more united. Look at your men. They come from different parts of Camelot. Some have even come from foreign lands to serve you. They trust you and are loyal to you. Why? Not because of some birthright to the throne, but because they believe in you and in the great kingdom you will raise from the ground. They know they have your trust and respect in return. You see Arthur, you are already a king in mind and heart. A crown is just a piece of metal. What truly makes a king is what is inside."
"Since when did you become so wise?" Arthur asked, eyes reddening ever so slightly.
Knowing what his friend was trying to do, Merlin pretended to be insulted. "You wound me Arthur! I have always been wise. You were just too dense to have noticed until now."
"Oi! I am not dense!" Arthur exclaimed with mock hurt before putting on a pensive face. "Then again, anyone would have trouble noticing your supposed wisdom when you constantly trip over air. How is that even possible?"
"That was one time! And you promised to never bring that up again!" Merlin exclaimed with a pout.
Arthur laughed at his friend's expense before ruffling Merlin's hair, causing Merlin to grumble before he too began laughing. The atmosphere quickly became sober between the two.
"But seriously Merlin, thank you."
"No problem Arthur," was Merlin's solemn reply before a cheeky smile appeared on his face. "Or should I call you 'Sire' from now on."
"Just Arthur, idiot," was Arthur's response before he pulled Merlin into a headlock and twisted his fist into Merlin's skull.
"Akk! Arthur! Let me go! I will shock you if you don't!"
Arthur quickly let go, knowing that Merlin would have no qualms following through with his threat. Merlin rubbed his head, glaring at Arthur. "Prat."
"Clutz."
"Dollop-head."
"I take back my statement about you being wise!" exclaimed Arthur, throwing his arms up in disbelief. "Where did you pull out that word? It's not even a proper word!"
"Shut up! It is too a word."
"Oh yeah, then what does it mean?" Arthur asked with his arms crossed and a skeptical look in his eyes.
Merlin paused for a moment, eyes darting back and forth before exclaiming "… King Arthur!" and running off the balcony and into the castle halls.
"Oi! Merlin! Get back here!" Arthur yelled before chasing after his lanky friend. "I'm not even the king yet!"
Constrictive criticism and reviews are welcomed!