A small one-shot exploring what Arthur's mentor had in mind for him regarding his future, some thoughts on freedom and free will to answer an unsettled mind of a future King. My ideas on the question just how Pelagius' teachings could have influenced Arthur. Please bear in mind that Pelagius was a Briton (some of his critics say a scot "stuffed with too much porridge", but Scotus was a common designation for someone from the British isles in general.)
My thanks for reading and reviewing.

Pelagius' Dream

„There is a fleeting equilibrum holding us together, Arthur."

Arthur smiled. His mentor always had had a sense for dramatic phrasing. He gingerly touched the writing on the scroll of vellum that bore the last letter of his friend. He could almost feel their writer's presence represented in them, reaching out for him through space and time.

"In us rages a battle that has been called into the world by Lucifer's striving arrogance. The balance between heaven and hell in the very depths of our human soul is threatened every minute of our waking day.

It is not original sin or the inclination to do wrong – as my adversaries claim – that assails our existence, but the loss of righteousness through habit and denial of our divinely blessed state of nature. We are all created and born in a perfect state through the hands of God himself, why should be imploring his perennial grace, when he has already granted us all we need?

Our free will to do good, ease the pain and the suffering around us, to receive the love of our sisters and brothers and rejoice at the sight of the unrivalled beauty of all things.

But alas, all things must have an end. Death is inherent in every step of our path on this earth. And as my own hour approaches swiftly my thoughts go out to you, the closest to a son I ever came in the time God had allowed me to live in this world. To you, Dear Arthur – that I have hoped to see once more in the town of your father.

Alas, Rome is not the Rome you've dreamt off and I am glad you never saw it again. May the memory of the eternal city you bear in your heart stay radiant forever. For when I left it two years ago, it lay in ruins before my inner eyes.

Rome's glory is threatened at every corner. It's spiritual force is waning. Ripped apart by the clash of power, assailed by human futilities.

My enemies have prevailed at last and I have lost everything: Rome, the church and my place in this world. The convent, clouded by steady political onslaught has renewed his condemnation.

Lost everything, I said, except for the force of my purpose and the dream that once steadied my fleeting thoughts.

The night after your father's death in battle, I was standing on the parapet Hadrian, great warrior of Rome, had built. Wrapped in deep thoughts of a cold winter's night I dreamt of your future, Arthur. A future so glorious it made me weep as I saw it.

After all the battles, all demise and ruin will come a time when you will become a leader to my people. All Britons will rise against an unseen threat, take up your banner and unite. Remember, there is no worse death than hope. Britain has never lost hope and under you it never will.

Be prepared, dear son. It will be their own free will guiding their actions, not a Roman harness forcing them to follow you or your orders. Prepare yourself to receive the gift of their hope in you.

I had told you once that you had the power to change the world to make it a better place to live and love in. I still believe in that power.

The force of freedom we are born with cannot be clouded or diminished by any worldly sin. So fear not and be proud of your future. Your pride will be an act of honouring your own freedom, the most divine gift handed down to us by God himself.

I beg you, as you read this letter, to look at the knights you chose to lead. Contemplate their loyalty and rejoice that so much love has issued from an implacable bargain once struck between a conqueror and his defeated foe. For I am sure it is love they bear in their hearts for you.

And just as I once asked you to live your life gloriously in honour of every sacrifice they've had to endure, I will ask the same for me now.
Honour my memory and live the glory I have dreamt for you that winter night in Britain.

In sanctificeti nominem Christi (In the sacred name of Christ)"

Rolling up the vellum, Arthur rose to light the lamp on his table, for darkness had grown around him.

I will always honour your memory, dear friend. He thought as he squinted at the light swiftly driving away the shadows his eyes had become used to in the last hour. He had not needed the lamp to read the letter before. The words were already engraved into his now pounding heart.
I don't know if I have the power to live your dream. His head rested in his hands, covering his face.
I don't know if I ever had the strength you thought me capable of. The lives I have taken are weighing heavily on my soul and I cannot find peace in prayer any more. I fear my faith is failing me. Dear God, help me.

He barely registered the knock and the door opening, too lost in thoughts to respond.

"The weight of the world again?" A deep, familiar voice asked calmly as the tall newly arrived knight strode to the fire to place another log on the dying flames.

"Why, Lancelot?" Arthur asked, "Why have you bound yourself to me?"

"You mean apart the bargain that bound us?" Lancelot frowned below his brown curls, wondering what worry had befallen his friend.

"You could have fled, lived a different life, had a wife, children perhaps." -

"Yes, I suppose I could have." He mused, thinking back at the moments he had considered such a plan worth of thought and at the reasons that had kept him from accomplishing it.

"Your kindness, Arthur. Your sense for right and wrong, call it justice and your love for all things big or small, your caring for the people around you. I stayed, not because I could not flee, but because I could not leave…" and here he hesitated until finally ending: "… leave you. It would have been unthankful towards whatever power was guiding our fate to be linked to you. Linked, Arthur, not chained."

Lancelot lowered himself in front of his brother, his eyes level with Arthur's, taking hold of the commanders shoulders.

"Love, Arthur. For you, your dreams and the way you look at this world. Love was what made me stay."

Arthur grabbed Lancelot's hand and his head dropped on his right shoulder, pinning both hands in their place.

They stayed like this for a long moment, resting in each others presence.