The tower was crumbling. It's smooth curved roof that you use to be able to see from the grassy hills before you could even see Camelot was washed away by grime and grim. From the tower one would see the gates hanging off there hinges like broken arms that weren't tended to. The yard and stone courtyard was cracked and smothered away to a dreadful blackness.
There was a thunk as the well in the middle of the village that once was full of happiness and glee, groaned as the age-old rope finally snapped in half and the bucket wavered on the hook before tumbling out on to the ground. The villagers-no more then rags and rift rafts now- spared it not a glance, as it was just another thing breaking down. Just like the bucket they spared no glance at the brawl taking place in the corner of the now slugend tavern. As the thief, stepped back from the older man he swung a simple dagger, no more than a kitchen knife, and slashed open his organs. Red ran once again.
Then from the shadows with bigger, stronger weapons ran the older man's contacts. They were half angered as there leader lay gasping for air and his hands reached up to a murky sky and yet as mercenaries they were glad as what was his was left for the taking. The pillar of men and women flanked to the left and the right and drove the thieves by force as blades and fist danced together, and like a tango there was much bowing, ducking, and twirls.
A young woman-the only one out of the squabble of thieves-went to finish of a crude hairless mercenary but she was stopped by a callused, but warm hand. She looked up to see eight riders atop of seven great beautiful steeds; they looked like years have greeted them kindly.
"What's this here do you reckon, a welcoming party?"
The young woman looked to the left of the eight riders to see a young man who was unshaven for possibly months and had a bedraggled look about him, so it only seemed natural he smell of alcohol to. The man smiled at her as he asked the question to the others.
Another man snorted as he got off his horse," more like a mêlée I say. I never have seen so much blood outside a contesting ring!"
The fight had stopped when they spied the riders coming into the once great heart of the village. Curious they were as they never got visitors much anymore….well those that did come usually didn't leave with what they rode in with. The peasants grouped into a sort of crowed half ring around the riders, and where weary and battle ready as any.
"And who would you be, boy?" the so-called lord of them stepped forward, his tunic to small and to worn, asked the bedraggled man.
The man answered with a laugh and sloppy got off his horse that snorted and rolled his eyes. He drooped to the ground and waved a hand in the air," Me? I am of no importance, but this man here is! Oh yes this man here weeps at the blood of his people-"
A blunt blow to the head by the sword of the man he was talking about cut him off. He smiled and drooped to the ground in a faint. The crowed murmured, as the others seemed amused by this.
"That man is confounded in the head! We are no one's people!" the lord shouted his spit flying to the ground.
"But you had a king once did you not?" the leader of the riders asked the people. He was well toned and his skin was sun kissed making his long gold hair shine in the darkness of the noon. Behind him sat a lady, fair and elegant with a hint of ruefulness to her.
The thief snorted from the tavern door, his battle long forgotten. With a dirt stained hand he pointed the castle," A castle in a sorry state is no match for a king, even a tyrant. The castle died with the king, as the king died with his castle. Everything else succumbed to that same fate. So no, we have no king. Now if you would be as kind as to leave as we were well busy."
The riders made no move to go and in fact seemed potent to stay, even the dark hooded one in the back corner who had stayed silent, did not move. The leader looked to the castle and a shadow of pity snuck up only to disappear again.
"Fine then…we'll just make you leave!" said the thief and with the rest pounded forward, but they were stopped with fast hands and weapons. The other man flanking the leader pounced on the thief and peasants disarming them, but not hurting them.
The young woman dodged in between the pushing men and women with all her might dodging blows here and there, when finally, she saw what she was looking for. While the others where chatting she and her keen eyes had spotted a satchel filled to the brim with prized artifacts. Getting this could save her and her family from starvation this winter.
With quick hands, she ducked around to the other side of the horse and reached in the bag and her fingers found a hilt of a sword. Quickly she brought it out and gazed at it, the rest forgotten. It seemed familiar in a way, like a long lost fairy tale. As her reflection caught in the blade, a sound startled her. The leader was behind her and was frowning in her direction. She darted back and brought the sword up and about cutting the man off and as she did she grinned at the little weight it carried. With a roll, she ducked under the horse and with the man on her heels; she kicked out and rested the blade to his chest. In surprise, as she never got this close to killing someone up close, she saw his blue eyes held warmth….
Memories of her childhood came back and she recalled this man and the others that fallowed in his wake, but it couldn't be…yet it was. The blade-blazed blue as it was yanked out oh her hands by the silent figure in the cloak and rested in front of the man. He gripped it and nodded thanks to the other as he called in a short commanding voice to stop.
And for some reason the people did.
He walked over and helped the young woman up as she fell over in surprise at the sudden use of magic. She looked at him weary and in awe. The fighter gathered around him and smiled as he enclosed his sword into the earth, also when the hooded figure took of his hood. He had a high cheekbone face and mirthful eyes that swam in gold. The young woman could only stare.
"You where once a great people of a great kingdom ruled by a heartless man. He chose not that life but rather it chose him, and now you are falling to that same fate. Most of you I recall when I lived here within these walls with these people." He gestured to the others and the leader smiled and nodded to him to continue.
"Do you not recall that the king Uther Pendragon had a son? A son whose heart was with his people and thumped to the rhythm theirs thumped too. "
"He left us though, to the hands of his father, what prince-a friend of simpletons or not does that?" cried a woman with a bundle of cloth to her chest.
"A prince that had no choice in the matter and a prince who should've chosed wiser," the leader said as he answered the question.
"So you are Arthur aren't you?" the young woman asked looking up at him with wide eyes.
"Yes, I am. I am the rightful heir to the throne and you are my people. I don't ask your forgiveness as I do not earn it. I do ask that you look around and see this is not Camelot that you once knew and loved. I ask that if nothing else you let me get her back on the foundation she can stand upon."
The young woman smiled at him and looked to her people," I think it's time we let someone look after us again. We have wasted away here and have become nothing but what Uther was-killers."
Gwen laid a hand on the young woman's shoulders and smiled. She had seen the acts of the young woman and the way she hesitated, when she had Arthur held at blade point. She was no fool.
"But Melina we don't know how to restart our old lives," the woman with the bundle called out to her daughter. She was proud through that her daughter had the guts to speak the truth they all knew was there.
"I find trusting the king and knowing him personally helps, don't you agree Merlin?" asked an older man from the crowed. He stepped out and his face was covered in old spots and wrinkles held his features well.
The wizard broke out in a grin and hugged the old man," Gauis! How are you here?"
Gauis pushed him by the shoulders and said sternly, "Think I'd be laying in the ground somewhere rotting way and miss Arthur's return?"
Merlin smiled sheepishly and watched as the people took in the exchanged of the old queer man who had kept mostly to himself and realized it was indeed Merlin Emrys. They turned back to the leader and as one drooped to their knees.
"Looks like they agree on the matter," Percival said as he sung his two handed ax over his shoulders and smiled at Arthur who bid the people to stand up. Gwen rested her hand on Arthur's and agreed with her friend.
"Now should we get started fixing up the palace as I would like a place to sleep tonight," muttered leon.
"Today is a new beginning and the past lays dormant with the runes of this place. We begin anew with a kingdom built for the people, and we shall hold no crown or ledged to our names as we are to be reborn to the same name and the same blood!"
The people cheered and as one set off to the village to ransack and save anything manageable and begin the future. Merlin swing a hand around Arthur 's shoulders and said, "Well looks like I did it then!"
"Did what, Merlin? Asked Arthur smirking.
"Got you here and basically saved your butt from the raved town's people."
"That was hardly your doing, Merlin."
"Can I not have one simple thank you, ever? He said as he walked over, unhooked his bag, and as he did so he caught the eyes of the young woman named Melina. She scrawled at him as she caught his eye and he smiled at her. With a quick stride, she came to stand in front of him.
"Just because your friends with Arthur Pendragon does not mean you can use magic on people." She said as she pointed a finger at him.
Not looking at her as he unloaded several bags from his mount he asked off hand," not even when young fierce-and might I add pretty- lady such as your self steals the kings sword?"
She huffed at him and he could make out a small blush on her cheeks as she pushed him aside and with her brown hair mangled with wind tied in a knot of leather and her tunic and breeches snug on her she reached over Merlin, their hands touching, and gripped his pack. She snatched it up and walked to where the other knights where heading with their previsions. She looked over her shoulders and gave a slow sly smile with a hint of shyness about it. Merlin found his heart fluttering and found himself wondering over there next encounter.
He looked over to his friends and saw them hard at work and Arthur's wariness and concern that has been plaguing him for the last year or so disappear, as he sneaked a hand around his wife's waist.
Yes, he thought life was good and getting better.
"… Merlin help me get this oaf of a fool named Gwaine off the road would you?" Lancelot and Arthur called to him as they hefted him up.
Merlin sighed and with a hand muttered a quick spell to make Gwaine travel to a worn out sack in the side of the tavern yard, and shook his head. Gwaine would no doubt be sore when he woke up, oh well he had it coming.
As the years went by and the trees bloomed to flowers and bore the fresh wisp of snow in the tree's arms Camelot grew once again like the baby fresh from Gwen's womb or the marriage between the warlock and the feisty and sly young woman.
Yes, life was good.
"Merlin….thank you," Arthur whispered to his friend as they traveled one last time to the pond to fish.