So it was true. This was it. The final battle. I don't know why I didn't do anything, I just didn't, not until it was too late. He didn't have a brilliant death. No glory, nothing deserving of a king, just two men, a sword, and a spear. The great king the prophecies spoke of was not there, he had been betrayed by all who he loved, Life had finally broken him.
And so this battle would never go down in history, nor would his rule, his story, like mine, would fall to legend, nothing but a fantasy to fill the minds of children, the despair and the love that filled it a ghost.
In the end it was always my fault. Destiny gave me so many chances to save him, but my fate would not have it. I saved his downfall, and then I killed his savior. Albion would never come, not without her king. The hope they all told of, the days of peace and prosperity... Lies.
I wish I could have told him of the time he would bring, but when I finally got the chance, I knew I couldn't. I could never bring myself to tell him of all the things that never were, and all the days that should have been. He will never know all he was meant to be so it will not haunt him like it haunts me. My heart aches for his ignorance.
I will never forget him, and I only wish he would never forget me. I know when we meet again I will be a stranger to his young eyes, and I don't know if I'll be able to play the part another time around. In the end it was me who failed and he who payed the price.
My name is Merlin...
And it was I who killed Arthur Pendragon.