Disclaimer: We do not own, really.
I could practically feel the weight of the world on my shoulders, digging painfully into the worn flesh just under my robes.
The sword had finally been pulled from its resting place in the stone, and I expected a hard, war trodden warrior ready to face the dramas and painful truth of the world… but he wasn't. The person who had been deemed worthy of the sword to be its bearer was a boy, just a boy out of childhood, just a boy full of naivety about what the world was truly like.
I felt a lone tear make its way down my weather worn cheeks, I would have to be the one to rip that innocence and ignorance away, I would have to be the one to destroy a young man and make a king, I was truly some sort of monster.
My world called me its prodigy, its savior. They expected me to save them and bring them back into glory, I was their hero… but how wrong they were. I was, am no hero. I am going to harden this boy and in the end his dear parents would not be able to recognize him, be proud of him perhaps, but never understand him the way they do now, all because of me.
I sighed and made my way out of the shadows toward the boy, Arthur I think his name was or something close. His face held a child like awe as he continued to stare at the sword in his hands, Excalibur, and I felt another bang of regret for what I am about to do, but it is for the Greater Good isn't it?
"My dear boy, my name is Merlin…"
And so the story goes.
I know it is short, but we thought it was rather good.
Constructive Criticism is loved, hugged, used, cherished, thrown away after good use.
Ideas you're willing to let us use, are welcomed, and this time, kept.