No young man, no matter how great, can know his destiny. He cannot glimpse his part in the great story that is about to unfold. Like everyone, he must live and learn. For in a time of myth and a land of magic the destiny of a great kingdom rested on the shoulders of a young man. His name… Merlin.
There was water in his nose, entering his lungs and making his throat constrict. He opened his eyes and was met by the blurriness that comes with being underwater. His eyes stung as water rushed into them. He swung his arms down – when did they rise up? – and felt his body move upwards. He swung his arms again and floated upward even further. But something was holding him back. Some instinct deep in his mind was telling him that he should be moving faster than he was. His lungs were starting to burn. How long had he been underwater? He needed air now. He reached with his feet and felt loose sand beneath him. He pushed up from the ground, using all his might to reach the surface. His eyesight was starting to dim. He needed air now.
As he made his way to the surface of the lake or river or wherever it was he had been in, memories started to make their way back to him. Memories of a time that fills him with warmth he cannot yet explain. Memories that made him smile and laugh regardless of the water that swarms into his mouth, sending him choking. Memories flooded his mind faster and faster every passing second.
"Do I know you?"
"I'm Merlin."
"So I don't know you."
"No."
"Yet you called me friend."
"Yeah that was my mistake…. I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass."
Memory by memory passed quicker than Arthur's mind could keep up. Arthur? That's your name, clotpole, his head told him.
"I warn you, I've been trained to kill since birth."
"And how long have you been training to be a prat?"
Arthur swam quicker, his vision getting even dimmer.
"I'm happy to be your servant. 'Till the day I die."
"There's something about you, Merlin. I can't quite put my finger on it."
Merlin? Who's Merlin?
Your best friend, his brain whispered to him.
The memories increased speed the closer he got to the surface of the water. Which was good, because Arthur's brain surely wasn't working by this point.
"I care a hell of a lot about that armor; I'm not going to let you mess it up."
"I said distract them, not knock them out!"
"There's just no pleasing you sometimes."
"If I don't know where we're going, how do I know what to pack? Will it be hot or cold? Will it be wet or dry?"
"You have to believe, Arthur. You are destined to be Albion's greatest king. Nothing, not even this stone can stand in your way. Have faith."
"You came back to look for me."
"Alright, it's true. I came back because you're the only friend I have, and I couldn't bear to lose you."
It's almost as if some magic in the water needed Arthur to have his memories before he broke the surface of the water. All of Arthur's memories came back to him in a flash as his head crashed through the top of the water. It was almost painful, as the rest of his memories came back, too fast to process. He opened his mouth and sucked in great gulping gasps of air.
Gasping like a fish out of water, Arthur floated for a moment, finally calm. Finally at peace. He didn't know how he got there, at the bottom of a lake, he discovered, as his eyes roamed around. On one bank of the lake Arthur saw what appeared, to him, to be an old run down church, something he recognized from his time in Camelot, when Christianity was just starting to sweep through the Five Kingdoms.
On the other bank was a forest. But not a forest like Arthur remembered. This forest was small, and the trees were different. There were flowers too. Types of flowers that he had never seen before - not that Arthur had paid any attention to flowers during his time as Prince - and later - King of Camelot.
Arthur noticed that there was what appeared to be a walking path leading through the forest. He would use that to try and find his way back to Camelot and to civilization. He would worry about how long he's been gone later.
Arthur started to swim toward to shore, toward the walking path, but he was stopped by a sharp, stabbing pain in his side. He looked down and saw the armor on his side was stained with dried blood. His blood. His blood that came from a wound in his side. A fatal wound, Arthur knew. He should be dead. So why wasn't he still?
Arthur remembered. Oh God, did he remember. He remembered the Battle at Camlann. He remembered fighting Mordred and being stabbed and then killing his once-knight. He also remembered Merlin's tearful expression as he confessed to Arthur about his secret – his magic – not long after that. Arthur remembered his behavior to Merlin after that moment. He regretted acting that way, he really did. He wishes he could somehow make it up to Merlin.
Merlin. Arthur would need to find him, and soon. Something told Arthur that he was far away from Camelot. But that same something also told him that Merlin was close by. Arthur now had the task of finding him.
Arthur set off swimming again, ignoring the pain in his side and ignoring how his armor dragged him down. He would take it off as soon as he got to the shore.
Soon enough Arthur reached the shore and collapsed heavily on the warm sand. He panted and soaked up the warm sun beating down on his face, drying the water on him. It felt like it had been so long since he has felt the warmth of the sun on his face. Arthur took a deep breath and pushed himself to his feet. He unbuckled the cape from around his shoulder, unsure of how it got there. Arthur was positive that he hadn't been wearing a cape when he… when he died. Arthur could barely even think the word. He assumed Merlin put it on him when he was buried. Arthur slowly took off the rest of his armor and piled it on the shore of the lake. Then he splashed water on his face and took a drink. He took a deep breath and turned to the forest. Without a second thought, or a glance back, Arthur plunged into the forest and started following the path.
He never noticed the young boy who stepped out from the shadow of the church.
"Some men are born to plough fields, some live to be great physicians, others to be great kings. Me? I was born to serve you, Arthur. And I'm proud of that. And I wouldn't change a thing…"