Stories
Camelot is falling.
She can see it. She's seen it all her life, present and future woven in infinite majesty. And now, at last, the two have come together. This is the day. This is the day that the land falls.
That she knew it was coming doesn't make it any easier to witness.
The sun is setting now. Rather symbolic really, signalling the end of a failing kingdom. However, while such a fact isn't lost on her, it's not really at the forefront of her mind. No, what truly catches her eye is how the dying light illuminates the blood on the plain of battle. Not the inky mist of the minions of the underworld, not the rusted armour of automatons, but blood. The stuff of nightmares, that which overwhelms your senses. Even standing on a hill looking over the battle, she can smell it. She breathes it.
Perhaps it's fitting, she thinks. After the blood of the innocent you spilt to quench your guilt, it's only fair that its sickening intoxication reaches you as well.
The battle is coming to an end. Both armies, one loyal to Arthur, the other to Mordred, are nearly spent. It's strange in a sense, to see the king leading an army of the righteous rather than the hell spawn the former version of Arthur did. The older version before the true king was revealed. The one who provided the basis for a new age for Camelot. The one who dwells in reality provided one last gift, his actions forming a new character for the story world. He's exactly like him...
She fights back tears at this point. She knows what is coming. Despite his original self fighting mist dragons, soldiers of the underworld, the Knights of the Round Table and even the Black Knight himself, he will fall here. The old will fall by the hand of the new, only for the new to prove equally insubstantial, to affirm that old ways are not necessarily invalid.
She almost killed him herself. Now she is able to watch someone else do it.
The battle's ending. It can't go on. Not because of exhaustion, but because there's no-one left to fight. And even there was, there are so many bodies, that it would be impossible to keep your footing.
"Is it over?" she hears Arthur ask, his usual blue fur now akin to that of Gawain's. So much blood...
"Not yet," she whispers, knowing that he'll never hear her. "Not yet..."
No-one on the ground answers Arthur. Partly because it's a rhetorical question, partly because there's hardly anyone left to answer. Lancelot lies bleeding, barely conscious. Percival...well, it's hard to tell whether she is still alive. Part of her died when watching Galahad ascend with the grail, the silver hedgehog becoming as one with the chalice's golden light. Perhaps death is what she is hoping for...a chance to ascend as well. Gawain is still in the fight though. He's never one to back down. He's never one not to state the obvious, that one last foe still remains...
Mordred.
Arthur turns to face him. His bastard son, so much like him in some ways, so different in others. Both are hedgehogs. Both are blue. Both are blessed with extraordinary abilities. But that is where the similarities end. Where one has the eyes of rich emerald, the other has the eyes of red hellfire. While one is a son of nature, the other is a scion of metal. Where one has a righteous heart, the other lacks such a thing.
"Mordred," he says sombrely, his voice weighed down by all that has been seen and done. "Give up. It's over."
"Over?" Mordred sneers, his metallic grasp tightening on his spear. "Hardly Arthur. When you lie amongst your followers and I'm king of Camelot, it will be over. But not now. Not yet."
Arthur sighs. "Mordred, can't you see that which lies before you? There's no kingdom left to rule. Morgana never wanted you to be king. All she wanted was this."
Mordred falls silent. A sign of understanding perhaps? Hardly. The observer knows how the story ends. And the story has not ended yet.
Two more deaths have yet to occur.
Letting out a roar, Mordred charges. Silently, Arthur meets him. As one, they strike. As one, they fall. And after what seems like an eternity, Arthur gets up. Slowly however...a punctured lung tends to inflict limits on what the body can do.
"And so it begins..." she murmurs. "The beginning of the end."
She's not the only one to realize this. Gawain comes rushing over, Lancelot more slowly. Percival...she can barely move. While Arthur's originator saved her from a burning death, she has never been able to return the favour. And now, she will never be able to do so.
The observer knows what that feels like. She feels the same way.
From her hill, she watches as Gawain helps Arthur to his feet while Lancelot curses Mordred, calling him everything from "bastard" to "faker." She watches as Arthur instructs Gawain to return Excalibur to the lake, while ordering Lancelot to help Percival. She watches the slow procession to Nimue, with Arthur left by the lakeside while Gawain hides Excalibur in the long grass, only for his deception to be seen by his king. Ashamed, he returns it, casting it out to Nimue's outstretched arm, to in turn sink beneath the water.
Wouldn't a sword rust down there? Perhaps. But then a sword was pulled out of a stone easily enough, so perhaps magic could overcome the laws of physics. But regardless of magic's power, it cannot stop death. It cannot defy fate.
The watching is becoming harder for the girl. Arthur, waiting for death to take him. Strange how she was perfectly willing to see his originator dead, yet now it's unbearable. For Morgana however, it's a different story.
"You're dying brother," the purple hedgehog sneers.
"Yes, I am," sighs Arthur, willing to face reality even to the last. "Is this what you wanted?"
"Yes," answers the king's half sister smugly. "I've won. Your knights lie dead in the mud, Camelot is in ruins and the lineage of Pendragon has ended. I want you to think about that while you die."
"Bold words Morgana. But hollow ones. Your hatred for me was the most important thing in your life. When I die, you'll be left with nothing." He spits blood at her. "Here's to your victory."
Morgana realizes what the observer does.
Camelot's last battle has ended. And in the end, no-one won.
But the story isn't over.
It isn't over because Arthur has one last journey to make. Across the lake, with Merlin. What began as a trip to London decades ago will now end on Avalon. His days of running have ended, but his story has not. It will never end.
The observer is satisfied. She's seen the culmination of history. She has seen the end of the recorded story. She has seen what she knew was coming all her life, what she once tried to avoid, only for her efforts to end in failure. And for that, she's grateful. She's glad that she failed to create a kingdom that never ended. She's glad she was given the opportunity to watch Arthur's story come to an end. She's seen what she learnt a lifetime ago...that an ended story does not mean an ended world.
She took Sonic's lesson to heart.
And with that, Merlina turns and walks away.
Camelot must be rebuilt.
A new story will be told.
A/N
Why yes, this is based on Sonic and the Black Knight. A game IGN saw fit to give a rating of 3.9 Not owning a Wii, I can't say whether this was accurate But having watched playthroughs on YouTube, both cutscenes and gameplay, I still felt compelled to write a oneshot, courtesy of the "wow factor" that one gets occassionally.
It's hard to quantify really, but everything in the game felt so right. The characterization, the themes..."Carpe deim" is a saying that I think summarizes the underlying motiffs of this series perfectly and the most recent addition to said series was no exception. I've followed the games and their spinoffs since the age of four but can still appreciate shifts to 3D and storyline. A changed formula is not bad by default, but only bad if it doesn't work. I think the series has reached the point where it's been going on for so long that the meme of "sequels are inferior to their predecessors by default" has been reached. The old games weren't perfect. The new games aren't perfect. But I feel that both can be appreciated for what they are and that objectivity is a far better approach to fanboyism. And by objectivity, I feel that the series has a mandate to keep on going. To keep on running, so to speak, and SatBK is an example of this.
Anyway, rant over.
(Yes, I'm all warm and fuzzy yet write a morbid oneshot. Go figure.)