I can remember the day as clearly as the lake you lie in. The day was cloudy, but your eyes were bright and alive with so much fire. Young, raging fire. The fire of a king. Fire that, left untouched, would burn until there was nothing left but coals. Even then, it would be hotter than the souls of most men.
You spoke words to me I thought would go unsaid. I thought that, although everything I'd ever done for you, you wouldn't accept me for who I am.
Who I was.
I know you lie in the lake. I know because I threw your sword in, and. . . Well, it doesn't really matter.
But as I laid you on the small wooden boat, so carefully and so gently, and arranged your cloak in folds of the deepest, bravest red, I noticed that I had said nothing to you. I could speak to your body, but that wasn't you. That last glimpse of hope, the last fluttering of your eyes, the last glimpse of your hand- that was you.
Both are buried, buried, deep in the water.
I said goodbye to even your body. I set it ablaze with a fire, not nearly as bright as the shine in your eyes. Not nearly as warm as your soul or your courage. I stood there until it burned out, until there was no sign you were even there.
I decided to wait.
I waited and waited, decades and centuries. I said goodbye to everyone I ever knew. My mother is dead now, and your wife too. All of our friends are gone, lost to the whispers and legends of time. Even the landscape has changed. Entire mountains have shifted, but none of it matters.
I know one day I'll be able to see you again. To share in life with you again.
I live for the day when you emerge, clad in the red of your fathers and the silver of the kingdom you protect. Untouched by the decay of time, and in your brightest glory.
Once and future king. The king now and forever.