Leadership
Leadership, Arthur, means you trust your judgment above all else and you don't regret. Learn to forgive your self, because in the end that will be all that matters.
He closes his eyes and listens to the words flow like water over his mind. The voice familiar as his own body, the face that accompanies it a more beloved image than his birth land and people at peace and his knights free and happy. He tilts his head to the sky and opens his eyes, staring up at the darkening sky.
You can't rely on other people, your followers or friends or lovers, their judgments are all biased concerning you, they love so they will see none of your faults. Even your enemies are biased by their hatred of you. If you have power in this world, Arthur, you are alone.
Arthur turned back to the grave in front of him. Her image seemed to materialize in front of him. Hair blacker then sin and eyes that mirrored the night sky, just as endless and depthless. Pale skin like the alabaster stone. A body as tall as it was a soldiers. And a mind, the greatest of their time and probably all of history. The sword at her side the twin sister to Excalibur. And a smile as feral as it was beautiful.
Victory, Arthur is the goal, always nothing else matters. Victory insures that everything you gave up and lost was not for nothing. The men under your command wont understand at first but they will in time, don't underestimate them, but at the same time don't overestimate them. People forced to serve another empire then their own will nurse their grudges and hatred until the end of their days. Be careful how attached you get.
A voice, low and husky washed over him. Bringing images of summer nights spent under the stars and winter nights spent next to the heart wrapped him furs and laughter.
Nothing lasts forever, no matter how strong or how big you make it.
A smirk. Not unlike Lancelot's, but much more confident, if that's possible, with many more shadows of a different grey.
All empires crumble eventually, turn back to the dust they came from, nothing but legends in the years that come to pass.
Hands, pale and calloused from years of warfare and peace, work and play. Hands, that no matter how many times washed, still seemed tinted with red and the endless, stained smell of blood.
People will follow you Arthur, because you are different. You'll never be like them, ever, no matter how hard you try to sympathize; you'll always see what the rest of the world misses.
A sadness for the world, the only one to match his own. Eyes that saw the tainted ness of the world, its failure and dirtiness; the raped fear that turned its back on the children that were destroying everything they had created.
The world is a horrible place, are you still willing to fight for it, Artorius?
The eyes that also saw the beauty of the world and her children, the hope, the willingness to sacrifice that would always define them.
But we are human; change is our element no matter how awkward we are. The world can change at our hand and no matter how bleak the dawn or how dark the twilight, the next day is always worth fighting for.
And maybe Morgan was right, the world can change, it was worth fighting for, no matter how dark the moment seemed.
Arthur smiled, kissed the wind, put on his helmet, and turned toward the wall.
Preparations were starting for the fight.
….darfod…I think…