Chapter 1: Two and half years after Arthur's death...
Mist shrouded the lake shore; heavy, dark and foreboding. The early morning scent of spring in full bloom, coated in a blanket of fresh dew, overpowered the smell of algae and fish that usually accompanied a large body of water. The sky above was brightening with pinks and oranges, reflecting off the gathered fog. Silent as a whisper, a small, wooden craft broke the stillness of the water, and parted the wisps clinging to the surface. On its prow, stood a slender woman in a gown the color of red roses. Hair of the deepest chestnut cascaded down her back and over her shoulders. Her dark eyes were closed, and her hands hung at her sides; the palms turned toward the shoreline that was only a darker shadow in the distance.
Behind her, four men sat stoically. They had been called from the sleep of the grave, each having been taken from life too soon. They had one chance to regain what had been stolen from them.
The woman who was silently guiding the boat, had explained the stakes to them. Over two years had passed for two of the men, while the other two had been gone from the world for much longer. Each had died with one goal in mind: the future of Camelot, and a dream they had not known. The dream of Albion: a return of the united lands that had once existed under the reign of Bruta.
In the generations since Bruta, the treaty had fallen into dust, much as the bones of the once great High King had. In the land beyond the Gates of Avalon, Bruta had waited to be reborn. When he was, not even the fates had been able to see the evil that was plaguing the land, and destiny threw a rock into the carefully turning wheel, causing the future to follow a different path.
Just behind the woman, one man out of the four, understood what was transpiring. He had been Bruta, the once great king of the land. He had been others in various incarnations; trying to once again bring his dream to fruition. After he had fallen, in the days following the battle at Camlann, his knowledge from the past lives had come back to him. He was normally never privy to what transpired in the intervals separating his various incarnations, and he had not expected to be called back to life in his latest one. The standard protocol of the Afterlife was to wait until he was reborn once again, with no memory of his soul's past.
This time was different. This time, darkness had come back in a form that was familiar to him, as his sister had been torn from her place in Hell, and allowed to roam the world once again. It was too soon for either of them to be reborn, but the woman on prow had told him that this would be different than his previous rebirths. He was to rejoin the world, as he had left it. She gave no indication as to exactly how much time had passed, only that it had. The life he had known was no longer available to him, but she wouldn't elaborate more.
He glanced briefly, out of the corner of his eyes, at the three others with him; three of his best warriors, his most loyal of knights and his personal guard. He remembered how two of them had died, but not the third. For a moment, he studied the third, and wondered why the man refused to meet his eyes. None of them had spoken to each other, as they had gathered together in the boat some time ago; each lost in their own thoughts.
Turning his attention back to the front, he noticed the shoreline coming closer; becoming more defined. The lady on the prow raised her arms, and when she brought them down, the mist swept away, revealing a lone, cloaked figure waiting at a small dock.
The sounds of the world began to filter into their silent travel, and the man suddenly felt a breath of clean air enter his lungs. He wondered if this was how a babe felt, when first exposed to the light after months in his mother's womb. The breath was life, it was existence, and it was freedom.
As the shrouded man lifted his hands to remove the cowl, the one in the boat smiled, expecting to see a familiar face. The joy in his eyes faltered when they were met with the gray eyes and hair of the druid.
One by one, the men stepped from the craft onto the thick wood of the dock. He waited until it was just himself and lady left, before he opened his mouth to speak.
She held up her hand to silence him. Reaching down into the boat, near her feet, she brought up a sword…his sword. "Arthur, remember what I told you. Only the phoenix can fully rise again, but your time in the world of the living may be limited. Your purpose here is to set right the balance that was altered. Many things have changed since the time of your passing. Do not be surprised if the people you love, are not the faces you remember."
He took the sword from her reverently and nodded his head. "I understand." Although, he had to admit to himself that he really didn't. "What happens after that?"
"Only the Gods know. Good luck on your quest, Arthur."
He stepped off the boat, and turned to ask her one last question…but the lady and the boat were gone.
"Arthur, welcome back." The gray druid said, dipping his head in a small bow. "Come. There is much to discuss."
"Thank you…?" Arthur held out his arm, waiting for the druid to finally give him a name.
"Iseldir." The druid supplied, clasping Arthur's wrist in a gesture of goodwill.
Arthur smiled, "Thank you, Iseldir. Tell me…how long has it been since the Battle of Camlann?"
"Not three years have passed, but much has changed in your absence." The druid began leading the men away from the lake.
"Camlann?" The darkest of the knights asked.
It took a moment for Arthur to remember that his brother-in-law hadn't been with them when the fateful battle had transpired. They had just breached the Dark Tower to rescue Guinevere. Elyan had died defending his sister from the enchanted blade. He had never known about the darkness that had followed, while Gwen was enchanted by Morgana. "It happened a few months after you were killed."
Arthur glanced at the other two, one of whom he wasn't sure how to approach. "When did you die?" He asked Gwaine.
The normally flamboyant man looked up quickly, before his brown eyes moved away, still unable to meet his king's stare. He shifted uneasily on his feet. "A couple of days after Camlann." He stated, and seemed unwilling to elaborate.
This left Arthur wondering if the man had sustained a fatal wound in the battle, or if there was more to the story. For the time being, he let his friend keep his secret. It really didn't matter how it had happened, but Arthur found himself saddened that it had happened at all.
Turning to the last man, he wasn't certain what to say.
Lancelot had once been a good friend, and the most honorable of his knights. He had sacrificed himself for the good of not just Camelot, but all the lands, as well, when he had stepped through the tear between the worlds. Then, Lancelot had returned, and in his wake, he'd nearly torn the kingdom apart. "What do you remember?" Arthur finally asked.
The black-haired knight's gaze met his king's. He seemed to be searching for the words. "It's odd. I remember clearly when I walked through the Veil…but, I have the feeling I had somehow returned after that. I remember Merlin…" He faltered, not wanting to continue out of a fear that he would be betraying his friend.
"I know his secret…if that is what worries you." Arthur said, almost as if he had been reading the knight's thoughts.
Smiling, Lancelot took a deep breath of relief. "I remember Merlin above me. It felt as if he had just woken me from the darkest of nightmares. The memories I have…they are not my own. I can see Morgana's face, clearly telling me what I must do…and for some reason, I did her bidding. It was Merlin who managed to free me from it."
Nearby, Gwaine cursed and spat on the ground at the mention of the witch. Elyan snarled softly.
Arthur felt the truth in Lancelot's words, and he released a grateful sigh. He placed a hand on Lancelot's shoulder. "So, you did not willingly betray me. That is good to know." He saw Gwaine flinch, in his peripheral, and was again curious as to his friend's fate. The sooner they all returned to Camelot, the better off they would all be. "Iseldir, I appreciate your offer, however, I feel it might be best for my knights and myself to take advantage of the daylight and make our way home."
The druid paused briefly. "If that is your wish, I will not stop you. However, tonight is a very special night for the druid people. It will be the first time in nearly half a century that we may have a king. We would be honored if you would join us for the festivities."
"The druids don't have a king," Gwaine mumbled and rolled his eyes.
Arthur silenced the man with a sharp glare. He gave Iseldir a diplomatic smile. "I don't recall ever hearing about the druid people having a king."
"I don't imagine you would have." He continued walking and began the tale of the Druid King's role in the past.
As he did, memories of Arthur's past lives came back to him, including one of standing at the original stone Round Table, long before he and his current knights had. Surrounding it, were the men he trusted the most…including a druid, although Arthur couldn't see the man's face. "Tonight is his coronation, then?"
"Perhaps. Unlike your people, our king is not chosen simply based on his bloodline. There are many tests that the man must pass, to prove himself worthy."
"…And who is this candidate?" Lancelot questioned, extremely interested in the conversation.
Iseldir gave the knight an unreadable look. "He has given up his identity this day and is known only as 'the Stag', or 'the Hunter,' until he has proven himself. It is not my place to say more about him." The meaning behind the druid's words was clear. If they wanted to know who the man was, they would have to stay.
Arthur was torn. He wanted to race back to Camelot and see Guinevere, as well as prepare for the coming threat.
Elyan stood next to the king. His intimate encounter with the spirit of the druid boy had given the knight a brief, inside glimpse of the druid people. He was both curious and fearful to learn more.
It was once again Lancelot who offered his support of a solution. "Perhaps one more night, before we head home, wouldn't be too much of an inconvenience. It has been nearly three years already."
Arthur bit back his disappointment. He forced a grin on his face and clapped his hands together. "A hunt, you say? I love hunting!"
AN: Thank you so much for all the reviews, follows and favs!
Chapter 1 was originally written for the Beltane segment of Shadow of the Goddess
Details of the hunt from Arthur's perspective, and Merlin's side of the story can be found in Shadow of the Goddess, Beltane The next chapter will be Gwaine's POV as he readjusts to being alive again and will parallel with SoG, Beltane.
Please take a moment to comment. My muses REALLY appreciate the feedback! :D
