I felt inclined to start a Merlin story, even though I am terrible at updating things. Ah, well. Might as well get this out there.

Yes, I know that there are several stories involving the return of Arthur, but I plan on making this different. For one thing, the primary character will be Arthur (not including this prologue obviously). Plus there are a few other changes that will hopefully be refreshing. I hope that you can find it within yourselves to enjoy this fic, and please remember to review. I love reviews.

Disclaimer: I do not own Merlin...this is the part where I am supposed to say "If I did, bla bla bla," but the show ended like how I would have done it. If you so happen to read The Haunted One-Shots, you'd know that I break the feels, so don't expect sunshine and lollipops from me.

I don't think there is anything else to say. Maybe I could do a music to listen to thing...Yeah, I will.

-"Apocalypse" by Ross Bugden

-"Plaint" by Kevin MacLeod

Okay, we good? We good.

Let's Go On An Adventure

Arthur

Prologue

It was a slow night in the ward. Most of the doctors and nurses have went home to be with their families. It was Christmas Eve, after all. Many of them had young children excited for Santa Claus and presents the next morning. A few employees were present, filling out last minute paperwork or taking care of some patients in more critical conditions. After all, it was a time for family.

Then the silent night was ended with a crash. The doors flew open, revealing a man garbed in a gray trench coat over his pajamas. In his arms, he clutched a beautiful young woman who seemed quite out of it. Her wavy blonde hair cascaded down her shoulders in golden waves. Unfortunately, the woman was unconscious, but had she been awake, one could see that she had ocean blue eyes. The rounded belly signified that she was pregnant.

"I don't know what happened!" the man pleaded, his brown eyes clouded over with fear. "One moment she was fine, the next she started convulsing, muttering about...something. I-I tried to calm her, I did, but...I don't know. Then her water broke, and...I can't explain it, but then she passed out."

The poor youth at the front desk had only wanted to go home to sleep. He debated asking why the distraught man didn't call 911, but now was not the time. No, it was definitely not the time for questions.

As if on cue, the majority of the doctors who remained came in with a cart. They strapped the comatose lady to the object and wheeled her off for an emergency C-Section. They didn't know why, but they knew that it was crucial to save her baby before it was too late.

An elderly nurse led the man to the waiting room. It was nearly empty, save for an old man with a long, silver beard. The dazed man fell to his knees, ignoring the much more comfortable chairs around him. He couldn't lose his fiancée, especially not the baby. It might have not been his, but it didn't affect the man. He was to care for the child as if it was his own.

He put his face in his hands. His fingers subconsciously wove in and out of his stubble. He was stressing over the well-being of his lover. Already, he had lost his previous wife, Jen. Just over the past year, he nearly lost his own son, Kay, to pneumonia. Thankfully he was able to pull through in the end, but it gave the father quite a scare, seeing as Kay was all he had left...until Madalyn came along.

And, boy, was she perfect. She hadn't minded that Kay was not her own. She never showed any jealousy towards Jen. Madalyn was sympathetic and understanding of his hesitancy to moving on past Jen. She died only three years prior to a motorcycle accident. For a while, he was cold to everyone, including his young son, who was only three at the time. He snapped back to reality when his father had a stroke and died. His last words were, "Take care of Kay. He is all you have left now."

And so he did. He started acting like a father again to his son. When he got sick, however, he started to turn away from reality again. However, Madalyn saved him. She stayed with the man in the waiting room as he awaited news on Kay's condition. She was there for her own father, who had an unusually high fever. He comforted Madalyn when her father died, and she rejoiced with him when Kay became better again.

It was then that their relationship officially started. It began with fancy dinners at the Clois Maggiore. The two would feed each other bits of bread smothered in garlic butter and sweet scones with raspberry jam. They would laugh at each other's corny jokes.

Then things got more serious. He soon learned that Madalyn immigrated from America after her mother's death in the year of 1995, the same year Jen died. She wanted to be closer to the rest of her relatives as her father was already poor and sickly. She told him that she just broke up with a previous boyfriend and was looking for a new start in London. Feeling hopeful, he asked Madalyn to marry him. She said yes.

Then came the day when she started slowing. He felt betrayed as they had never slept together. It was clear the child was not his own. He had given Madalyn everything he could, and she turned her back on him.

Madalyn explained that she had no idea whose baby she was carrying. "I just woke up one day, and there it was," she claimed. She tried to convince him that she always remained faithful to her boyfriend. Truly, she was confused as to who the father was.

Still, the trust was broken. The wedding wasn't exactly called off, but the two spent less and less time together, and what time was spent with each other was cold, bitter, and awkward. He started feeling closed off. After all, he didn't want his heart to be broken again. True, the circumstances were different, but his heart couldn't take it.

This night, however, she stood at his doorstep, shaken. Something was off about Madalyn. He could sense it. Kay was already in bed, oblivious to his potential stepmother's presence. The father couldn't find it in his heart to leaver her out in the cold, even if he believed that she cheated on him. He allowed Madalyn to enter his home. It was soon afterwards, as she was sipping warm tea, that Madalyn collapsed into his arms.

Bringing us to now. He regretted not trusting Madalyn when she said that nothing had happened. Now he was convinced that no matter what happened, he'd help Madalyn take care of her child. He loved her. Her smile was the most beautiful that he had ever seen. When she did, her eyes sparkled like the sea. Her laugh was clear. Even during the dark times of their relationship, she remained optimistic. And he hated her for it.***

It wasn't that bad. It was just that she reminded him too much of Jen with her personality. Even when he doubted her, he could still see his dead wife in Madalyn. They were so similar, yet so different. He couldn't think of a time when he doubted his own wife.

He allowed himself a small smile. Regardless, he still loved Madalyn. Only now, when her life was on the line, did the man realize that. Love was forever. Even if the lover died nearly a thousand years prior, it never faded.

The man paled when the elderly nurse returned, her face grave and paled. Quietly, he asked, "Is she...?" The nurse shook her head.

He wailed loudly. The ancient man in the room gave him a look before returning to...whatever it was he was doing. The younger man pounded at the tiled floor, wishing that he could have told her all that there was to say. Now Madalyn was dead.

"What is your name?" the nurse asked soothingly.

"Ector," the man replied. "Ector Thomas." His voice cracked. "The child?"

"He's alive and sleeping." The nursemaid paused. "Before she..."

"Madalyn."

"Before Madalyn died, she whispered a word. A name at that. Arthur. Have the two of you ever discussed baby names?"

Ector shook his head, confused. Madalyn's father's name was Stanley. She never spoke of an Arthur. It dawned on Ector that perhaps Arthur was the name of the father, but almost no one was named that anymore. But the name felt right to him somehow.

"Let Arthur be his name, then," Ector whispered with a grimace. Even with Madalyn dead, he couldn't abandon the baby.

"Now for the paperwork...If you're up to it." The nurse put her hand on his shoulder sympathetically. Ector didn't respond.

The elderly man left the waiting room abruptly. He paid the grieving Ector and the nurse no attention, more set on his goal. The man at the desk didn't see him leave as he was too busy typing away at a computer. The old man with the beard was quite unnoticed. He liked it that way.

For many years, he lived a hermit. He was tired of watching people he knew and loved grow old and die. True, he aged as well, but one day...he just stopped. He forever stayed in the body of an old man in wait of something.

It was with surprising speed that he crossed the deserted street. Everyone was either in a church or in bed. No one was about. Even the homeless were currently finding shelter in churches.

It was cold, but the man did not appear to mind. Snow danced in front of him, nesting in his silvery Gandalf-styled beard. At least, that is what everyone called it these days, even though it was something different from that. He wore it long before the days of The Lord of the Rings books. Sometimes he cut it to maintain appearances, but generally it was long and flowing.

His clothes choice was odd, to say the least. He wore a long cloak to protect him from the frigid temperatures, as London could become very chilly. He wore snow-proof boots and thick clothes that insulated his body head. Around his neck was a red neckerchief frayed with age. Over his heart was a circular sigil with markings in it. He kept it with him always.

He quickened his pace, and soon the old man was in the outskirts of the city. With no one left who could possibly see him, he flicked his fingers and vanished from sight.

He reappeared at the base of a large hill in Wales miles away. It was in a secluded region, rarely visited by anyone. Those who dared to climb the steep slopes thought that the mountain was odd and generally did not return to Tyle Garw. It was almost as if magic affected their decision to visit the place. It found its home in the Black Mountains.

His upper body strength was impressive. He scaled the rocky terrain. Having many years of practice, he was much better than he was in his youth. He snorted, wondering how his friends would think of him now if they were to see him. They'd probably believe that he was not their scrawny, servant friend.

Finally, he reached an old cave. The air was damp and humid, but it was also warm. He stepped inside, determined. A fire was rekindled inside of him; it died many years ago.

"Kilgharrah!" he called out in deep tones.

The air moved as if a giant fan was blowing. Then a large and very old dragon flew down. It was practically immortal; dragons' lifespans were not measured.

"Merlin!" the great beast declared in pleasure. "It's been nearly half a century since you've last come to my perch. Tell me, Warlock, what is it that you've come to ask of me?"

Merlin growled. He didn't like being called "Warlock." It reminded him too much of what he lost at the Battle of Camlann and his previous life in Camelot. It reminded him of his supposed destiny, the reason why he was here.

"Kilgharrah," he began. "King Arthur has returned."

Mild cliffhanger. The next chapter will take place in December of 2015, so prepare yourselves for the time-skip.

This is weird. This is the point where I usually start ranting about something, but since this is my first Merlin FanFiction, then I have nothing to build off of. Maybe next chapter.

I will just make up a quote that I feel like Kilgharrah would say: "The destiny chooses the warlock." Yeah, I should stop.

And I can't respond to guest reviews, either. My life (if it even exists) has all been a lie.

Please review :D. Things will get better, you have my word. Trust me.

~Lya200~