Disclaimer: I don't own any of the characters/details of the Pokémon gaming/anime/manga series, nor do I own those of the many tales of Camelot. Please don't try to sue me; I don't have a job (or a life, for that matter).
A/N: Dedicated to every classmate of mine in Honors English who had to stay up until midnight (just like I did) writing all those bloody reports and question sheets for a woman who literally reads too much into things. (No offense, mi maestra.) The lot of you are the whole reason why this is up here. ^_^;
This fic is being kept alive by "Where is the Love?" by Black Eyed Peas. So, yes. I guess this little thing has a soundtrack now. ^_^;
The idea for this came to me during Honors English one day. No big surprise, actually, since we went deep into the Camelot portrayed by Tennyson back in the Victorian era as well as the Camelot portrayed by Lerner and Lowe in the 1960's musical (which this fic is the closest to). If you're interested in King Arthur and the fellowship of the Round Table, go ahead and sample Tennyson's Camelot and the musical Camelot. Otherwise (if you're like me), enjoy my attempts at parodying it. =P
And yes, I'm aware that this may or may not wind up as another cookie-cutter "chosen one" fanfic (Though please flame me to Hell if it does.), marking me a hypocrite since everyone does those. Well, I said it may not because I'm trying to take that concept to a different level, which will be elaborated on later.
Also, I will NOT, I repeat, NOT GUARANTEE THAT THIS IS FINISHED. It's not supposed to be something I finish; it's supposed to be something I did to kill time and prove to my English teacher that I WAS paying attention in class. ...Well, slightly. Anywho, I'll accept questions, comments, complaints, death threats, et cetera; just don't out-and-out beg me to continue. Because most likely, I won't. ^_^;
But enough about that. On with the story! ^_^
---
[Prologue]
Sir Bedivere stood on the rocks, staring out to sea as the sun rose. His mind was numb. He felt nothing, thought nothing. All he knew was that from then on, it was to be utter chaos in the fair kingdom known as Camelot. The knights of the peaceful Round Table were either dead, condemned, or no longer knights at all (the latter was, specifically, Sir Percivale alone, who had last been heard of at a monastery); the queen, who bore no offspring to take the throne, had become a nun, and the king -- the great king of England himself -- had boarded a black barge to be taken to Avilion to rest, or more logically, to die from his head wound.
Bedivere sighed. He wished the great Merlin that the king had spoken so fondly of was still around. Perhaps, if Merlin hadn't disappeared one stormy afternoon, Camelot would still find a way to stay intact. The fair Queen Guinevere would not have wanted to be within the arms of the gallant Sir Lancelot, and Sir Modred wouln't have dared to take the throne from the rightful king. And even if that all had happened, even if King Arthur had received that fatal blow to his head by his own nephew, then perhaps Merlin would have found a way to find another peaceful king to rule.
Bedivere turned away from the sunrise, gazing at the darkened land. His sad eyes scanned the landscape, the battlefield on which so many noble knights who pledged all their heart to Camelot had fallen. He walked down from the rock, passing the marsh in which Excalibur had been taken back by the Lady of the Lake. Through the shadows through which Lancelot had fled and where he said he would have taken Guinevere. Through all of this, Bedivere walked alone.
Indeed, a new dawn was upon him and the rest of England.
And soon, it will come to all the world...
A/N: Dedicated to every classmate of mine in Honors English who had to stay up until midnight (just like I did) writing all those bloody reports and question sheets for a woman who literally reads too much into things. (No offense, mi maestra.) The lot of you are the whole reason why this is up here. ^_^;
This fic is being kept alive by "Where is the Love?" by Black Eyed Peas. So, yes. I guess this little thing has a soundtrack now. ^_^;
The idea for this came to me during Honors English one day. No big surprise, actually, since we went deep into the Camelot portrayed by Tennyson back in the Victorian era as well as the Camelot portrayed by Lerner and Lowe in the 1960's musical (which this fic is the closest to). If you're interested in King Arthur and the fellowship of the Round Table, go ahead and sample Tennyson's Camelot and the musical Camelot. Otherwise (if you're like me), enjoy my attempts at parodying it. =P
And yes, I'm aware that this may or may not wind up as another cookie-cutter "chosen one" fanfic (Though please flame me to Hell if it does.), marking me a hypocrite since everyone does those. Well, I said it may not because I'm trying to take that concept to a different level, which will be elaborated on later.
Also, I will NOT, I repeat, NOT GUARANTEE THAT THIS IS FINISHED. It's not supposed to be something I finish; it's supposed to be something I did to kill time and prove to my English teacher that I WAS paying attention in class. ...Well, slightly. Anywho, I'll accept questions, comments, complaints, death threats, et cetera; just don't out-and-out beg me to continue. Because most likely, I won't. ^_^;
But enough about that. On with the story! ^_^
---
[Prologue]
Sir Bedivere stood on the rocks, staring out to sea as the sun rose. His mind was numb. He felt nothing, thought nothing. All he knew was that from then on, it was to be utter chaos in the fair kingdom known as Camelot. The knights of the peaceful Round Table were either dead, condemned, or no longer knights at all (the latter was, specifically, Sir Percivale alone, who had last been heard of at a monastery); the queen, who bore no offspring to take the throne, had become a nun, and the king -- the great king of England himself -- had boarded a black barge to be taken to Avilion to rest, or more logically, to die from his head wound.
Bedivere sighed. He wished the great Merlin that the king had spoken so fondly of was still around. Perhaps, if Merlin hadn't disappeared one stormy afternoon, Camelot would still find a way to stay intact. The fair Queen Guinevere would not have wanted to be within the arms of the gallant Sir Lancelot, and Sir Modred wouln't have dared to take the throne from the rightful king. And even if that all had happened, even if King Arthur had received that fatal blow to his head by his own nephew, then perhaps Merlin would have found a way to find another peaceful king to rule.
Bedivere turned away from the sunrise, gazing at the darkened land. His sad eyes scanned the landscape, the battlefield on which so many noble knights who pledged all their heart to Camelot had fallen. He walked down from the rock, passing the marsh in which Excalibur had been taken back by the Lady of the Lake. Through the shadows through which Lancelot had fled and where he said he would have taken Guinevere. Through all of this, Bedivere walked alone.
Indeed, a new dawn was upon him and the rest of England.
And soon, it will come to all the world...