The lake of Avalon hadn't been disturbed in over 1,000 years. It's water, black as night, hadn't moved since the day a small, flaming boat had disappeared into its depths. And in the years since, this strange lake had all but been forgotten. Even the young, raven-haired boy that used to spend his days on the banks of this lake, just staring into the stillness, had moved on. Albion turned to ruins, and the ruins crumbled into dust. All the remained was a tower in the center of a late, and the unrecognizable ruins of the once great Camelot. And still the lake didn't move. Centuries flew by, wars erupted across the world, ended, then started again. And still the lake didn't move. The entire world erupted into violent chaos all at once, and still the lake didn't move.
But then it happened again. An eruption of violence that seemed to reach all four corners of the world. Bodies began to pile up, faster and higher than before. Entire cities were blown apart. One such blast reached the forgotten ruins of Camelot, tearing apart the last remains of a great kingdom. And the lake finally moved.
Arthur couldn't see a thing. He was completely engulfed in darkness. He didn't have time to be confused, though, before a wave of pain hit him. He felt as if his entire body was on fire. He screamed, but instead of air, water filled his lungs. His head was pounding, chest on fire. Surely he was going to die. But then his feet found something solid, and with great difficulty, he managed to drag himself away from the darkness, collapsing onto solid ground at last.
Coughing and sputtering, Arthur slowly opened his eyes. The sunlight was blinding, but after a few moments the image of a beach came into view.
What happened?
The beach was unfamiliar. For the life of him, Arthur couldn't remember how he'd ended up in that water. He scanned the beach again, then pulled himself to his feet. A sharp pain shot through him when he moved, caused by some wound in his abdomen. And that was when he remembered everything. Images of Camlann came rushing back. Memories of the battle, of Mordred and Morgana, the cursed blades, Merlin…
Merlin. Where was he? Arthur spun around, ignoring the pain (though it had considerably dulled), frantically looking up and down the beach.
"Merlin!" He yelled, not meaning to say anything, though Arthur didn't really care.
Something in the wind shifted, and the ground beneath Arthur's feet turned to liquid. He was falling and drowning all over again, before being dropped onto something solid. The beach was gone, the sunlight disappeared. Arthur found himself in a dimly lit hallway. It was narrow, the walls covered in grime and lined with worn down, wooden doors. Something near the ceiling was flickering slightly, casting dark shadows on the walls. It was a bulb, filled with a dull light that somewhat resembled fire, but not quite. It looked like magic. Arthur looked down the hallway, expecting to see Merlin, but there was no one. He was completely alone. Arthur rose to his feet, trying to ignore the sinking feeling in his heart.
The door across the hall crept open, a young woman no more than 17 slipping out. Dark, thick curls concealed most of her face. She silently closed the door and turned around, finally noticing Arthur standing in the hall. The girl nearly screamed, dropping the bag she had been clutching to her thin frame and backing against the wall. She started speaking, something Arthur couldn't understand.
"Stop. I can't understand you." Arthur said quickly.
The girl froze, confusion settling in on her face. "You're English." She whispered. She said each word carefully, though she pronounced it a funny way. Nothing like Arthur had heard before.
"Um. I'm Arthur…"
The girl ran back inside, slamming the door behind her. Arthur stood alone in the hallway, completely stunned. Before he could do anything, the door opened again, and the girl reappeared. She was clutching a torn drawing in her hand, which she unfolded and held up to the light.
"This you?" She asked softly.
Arthur studied to the drawing. It was old and faded, extremely hard to see. But he could still make out the familiar face sketched on the yellowed paper.
"Yes." He answered. "Where did you get that?"
"You're Arthur?" The girl asked.
"Yes. Where did you get the sketch."
"So you aren't dead?"
"Where did you get that sketch?!" Arthur nearly screamed.
The girl shoved him against the wall, one hand around his neck, the other clamped over his mouth.
"Shut up!" She hissed. "Do you want to get shot?!"
Before Arthur could free himself from this girl's grasp, she threw him from the wall and dragged him through the door, dropping him to the floor and slamming the door behind her.
"You need to stop speaking English." The girl whispered. "Don't you speak any other language?"
"I… uh… what?" Arthur stuttered.
The girl sighed. "Fine. Just… be quiet." She stuck out her hand, pulling Arthur to his feet.
Glancing around, Arthur saw he was in a small room. In the center was a small table with several mismatched chair. A bed was shoved in the corner next to a strange looking fireplace. Counters lined half the room, the walls covered in cupboards. The floors were littered with papers, while pinned to the walls were strange, hyper-realistic drawings. One wall was lined with grimey, cracked windows. The space between was chipped and crumbling.
"Listen. There's something I have to do." The girl announced after a moment. "I'll be back soon. Be quiet. Don't speak loudly. And do not leave. Food's in the cupboard. If I'm not back in two hours assume I've been murdered."
Arthur was about to laugh, but the girl's gaze was deathly serious.
"Wait. I don't even know who you are." Arthur pointed out.
"I'm Lydia." The girl muttered. She turned to leave, but stopped. Reaching into her bag, she pulled out a knife and handed it to Arthur. She reached back in her bag and pulled out a strange metal contraption.
"This is a gun." Lydia explained. "If anyone with hair like your's comes in here and points one at you, you kill them. Do not hesitate. Understand?"
She didn't wait for Arthur to respond, though, and left the room without another word. Arthur stood alone in the strange room, unable to process what had just happened. He didn't even know where he was.
Clutching the knife in his hand, Arthur ran out of the room before he changed his mind. Back into the dim hallway, down flight after flight of stairs, until he finally crashed through a door and stumbled out onto a road. A chill blew down the narrow street, an eery silence blanketing the night. Through the darkness, Arthur could make out tall, dirty, crumbling buildings lining the cobblestone road. The road was empty, save for a few people who were lying on the ground.
"I told you to stay inside!" Lydia almost yelled, startling Arthur and causing him to nearly trip over his own feet.
"Where am I?" Arthur asked.
"Please. I haven't got time for this! I need to find Peter." She screamed before she realised it. Her face grew pale as she peered down the street as if she expected someone to jump out at her. But they were completely alone, and the night remained silent.
"You're lucky there was just a massacre. We'd be dead if someone had seen you." Lydia whispered, though she wasn't really paying any attention to Arthur. Looking down the street, Arthur realised he was in fact surrounded by bodies. Lydia stopped just in front of one of the bodies, bending down and snatching away his hat and an armband. She turned and held them out to Arthur.
"Put these on." She ordered.
"You just stole those." Arthur said.
"Well, he wasn't using them." Lydia pointed out. "Here." She shoved the hat over Arthur's hair, tucking away the few strands that stuck out. She then handed the armband over. It was white fabric, though it had been stained with dirt and blood. In the center was a blue star. Arthur noticed Lydia was wearing a similar armband over her coat. Though he had absolutely no idea who the girl was, and was still unsure whether to trust her or not, Arthur slipped the armband over his coat, just as Lydia was wearing her's.
When Arthur looked up, Lydia was already at the end of the street. He didn't want to follow some random girl around some random place, he wanted to find Merlin. He needed to find Merlin. However, he was standing in a street filled with murdered bodies, and this girl did seem to know what she was doing.
What the hell.
Without a second thought, Arthur took off down the street before Lydia could disappear into the darkness. He rounded the corner, finally catching up to her just as she ducked into an alleyway.
"So you're going to help me find Peter then?" Lydia asked, walking briskly down the narrow alley.
"Who's Peter?"
"My roommate." She said. "Is he not your best friend?"
"I don't know any Peters." Arthur answered.
"You sure? He never shuts up about you."
Before Arthur could respond, Lydia grabbed him by the collar and dragged him behind a wall.
"Will you stop doing th…" Arthur started to say, but was cut off when Lydia slapped him. He was going to say something more, but noticed Lydia staring intently at several figures standing near a wall. Two men, dressed in the same pale grey uniform, had stopped another young man in the street. They were both yelling something Arthur couldn't understand, but the anger in their voices translated perfectly. The third man was slowly backing up, hands in the air. He seemed younger than the other two, but his back was facing Arthur so he couldn't really tell.
"Is that Peter?" Arthur whispered. Lydia nodded slightly.
One of the men in grey pulled out the metal contraption Lydia had shown Arthur earlier, a gun.
"Does he need help?"
The second man in grey grabbed the young man's coat, tear it off him and throwing it to the ground.
"He's fine, as long as they don't find the package." Lydia explained softly.
"And if they do?"
The man with the gun kicked away the coat, revealing a small brown package lying in the mud. He bent down, slowly picking it up.
Lydia shot up from behind the wall. "They're going to kill him."
The young man, realising what was happening, whirled around, stumbling over his own feets as he tried to get away. And in that moment, Arthur could have sworn his heart stopped. He was staring into the face of none other than Merlin. Noticing Arthur behind the wall, Merlin froze, not even attempting to run. The man with the gun shoved him to the ground, bringing the gun to his forehead. Arthur didn't even realise what he was doing, he just snapped. Shoving aside Lydia, who had pulled out her own gun, Arthur surged forward in a blind rage. The next moment, he stood in a pool of blood, a knife clutched tightly in hand. Two corpses were lying at his feet. Merlin was still kneeling on the ground, looking up at Arthur but staring right through him. His eyes were empty and cold, his face gaunt and bloodied. He was thin, so thin he looked as if he was about to just shatter into a million un-repairable pieces. The sight of him, so small and broken, ripped Arthur's heart apart.
A soft roar sounded from the distance, and the street was suddenly flooded with light, coming from a strange carriage that was speeding towards them. Several shouts sounded through the street as Lydia grabbed Merlin, shoving him ahead of her as she ran. Arthur followed them into the darkness, away from the blinding lights and threatening shouts. Merling stumbled numbly ahead as Lydia continued to shove him forwards.
The first light of day had started to appear on the horizon by the time they practically fell into the building Merlin and Lydia called home, scrambling up the stairs and crashing down the narrow hallway Arthur had awoken in. Lydia threw open the door, pulling Merling in behind her and slamming the door behind the three of them. Lydia fell against the wall and slid to the floor, but Merlin stood completely still in the center of the room, not taking his eyes Arthur. He stared at him in confusion and disbelief, his whole body trembling in the dim, flickering light. He stepped forward slightly, reaching his arm out and gently placing his hand on Arthur's cheek, as if he didn't believe Arthur was really there at all. Something changed in Merlin's face, and choking back a sob he pulled Arthur into a tight embrace. He didn't breathe a word, just held Arthur and sobbed.