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Chapter list:
Prologue
1. Wilhelm I
2. Bedivere I
3. Liesel I
4. Wilhelm II
5. Bedivere II
6. Liesel II
7. Anniina I
8. Wilhelm III
9. Bedivere III
10. Liesel III
11. Anniina II
12. Elroy I
PROLOGUE
—Travel through the wood, across the field, and over that bloodsoaked hill until you are well beyond all three, whereupon there will be a deep lake—
The holy sword slapping hard against his armored hip, Bedivere rode as fast as his already winded horse would carry him through the forest. Biting back tears, he apologized profusely to Dun Stallion for how hard he drove him onward, not expecting the majestic beast's forgiveness for he deserved none.
—I want you to throw my sword into this lake and give it back to the Lady who resides within its depths—
Repeating Arturia's final request in his head over and over, he wished to take it all back, cursing himself for not heeding Morgana's words proven right.
—Once that is done, come back to me—
Flying across the grisly aftermath of that bloodstained battlefield, he desperately tried to find some semblance of sanity in Arturia's words, knowing that his soldier's discipline told him what his mind refused to accept. Her words were final, the wound she suffered from fatal and, with that, the door that barred the truth was broken.
—This is my last request as your King—
Everything fell to pieces.
If he hadn't betrayed her to begin with, then those words would never been said, the wound never inflicted. The tragedy this day was entirely his fault, and nothing he thought would change that.
—One day, my dear Griflet, even with your help in bringing to light the misfortunes unseen by her, my dear sister will fail to see that which is right before her eyes. Blinded by her chivalry, her belief that kingdom comes before king, her wicked day shall come. Her honor—that righteous pride she holds so close—will be her downfall. With it, so too shall everything she has sacrificed for crumble into ruin. As, though you act in part as her savior...—
Upon reaching the hill, Dun Stallion buckled underneath him and he was sent tumbling end over end to crash in a muddy, bloodied heap at its foot. The holy sword held tight in his grasp. Bedivere lay there in a sweat, breathing heavily, weeping silently for his companion. He prayed that Dun Stallion would be able to find peace, free of such a terrible handler. Using the holy sword to stand, it took all his effort to climb and come to the hill's top.
Passing the traitor impaled on spear and his brother with guts spilled, he shed more tears for them both and collapsed, exhausted. He stayed there atop the grime and blood and dirt of the battlefield, hand trembling as he cried, willpower all but spent, waiting for death. Only by gathering what only he had left—his loyalty to his King—did Bedivere stand back to his feet and continue onward.
Careful as he traversed the bodies of those fallen and ignored the pleas from those dying, it was a harrowing walk the rest of the way to the lake.
When he at last stood at its edge, Bedivere could do nothing except stare at the holy sword in a trance; its golden and jeweled hilt and the magic runes that ran up the length of its magnificent blade and seemed to glow like skyfire. Hearing the whisper of the fairies, ancient words of power and protection, he faltered in his devotion yet again.
Before him was once a lake of calm and serenity, one that he and his King had traveled over many times many years ago, before a thick, dark mist settled over its clear waters now blackened, obscuring what lay beyond.
To cast the sword to its depths forebode a fate he knew to be the end of all he held dear. For it to leave his hand would mean his treachery was absolute, and he wept again. This time, for Arturia. For promising to be by her side always, but, only growing farther apart, before doing what he should've all along.
—… so too will you also be her very undoing—
Sobbing, he averted his eyes from the sight of all of Camelot's hopes and dreams sinking into the abyss, when something compelled him to witness what he at first shied away from. Even though he no longer had such a right. To his surprise, he bore witness to a heavenly-clad arm as it reached forth from the lake to take the sword in its hand and lower gently until both were gone. Immediately thereafter, the fog lifted from the waters' surface to reveal a place of splendor and beauty. With tears streaming down his face for an entirely different reason than before, he was in shock and awe. Though, the sudden joy that fluttered in his heart was short lived, for he realized that he'd made a terrible mistake. Not once, not twice, but, almost thrice.
With a renewed faith that carried him swiftly back, Bedivere wailed upon discovering Arturia lifeless against the tree trunk he'd laid her beside, and fell to his knees. It was too late. He pounded the ground in defeat and was ready to fall further into despair when another voice he knew well sang in his ears.
—It is not too late—
Nimuë's voice, smooth and relaxed like the gentle waters of a flowing stream, splashed and echoed in his ears.
—Dry your tears, and see—
He looked up and witnessed another miracle. Arturia's eyelashes—they fluttered. Incredulous, he sat there until Nimuë broke the spell.
—Go to her—
"Your Majesty!" he cried, scrambling to Arturia's side. She still breathed, albeit faintly, and relief washed over Bedivere's wretched figure, as his King's eyelashes fluttered for a second time and her eyes opened slowly.
"... Bedivere…?" Arturia tried to rise, cringed, and weakly went to touch the part of her head where Mordred's blade bite into her skull.
The arm was eased back down and hand gently squeezed. "Don't try to move, your wound will reopen."
Soaked through the bandage covering her forehead and running down the left side of her face, it stopped bleeding thanks only to his ring—its gleaming green gem dim and healing properties forever sealed. Yet another beautiful gift sullied in his name, but, seeing the smile on his King's face again was well worth all the sins he bore.
Her left eye shut from the blood that was now a dry crust, Arturia, seemingly unable to hear him, said his name once more, "Bedivere…"
"Sire… I… I have done as you asked of me." He wasn't able to meet her open eye.
"I see… Be proud, for you have fulfilled your King's final request..." A moment passed, her face contorted in pain, and she said no more. Yet, she continued to smile, and her words hung in the air between them, like a chasm; separating them.
It seemed like an eternity before he mustered the courage to cross over and say what had to be. "Sire, I must confess that I—!"
"... A dream…" The words were barely a whisper.
He huddled closer, "A… A dream, sire?"
"Yes... I was having a most pleasant dream... while you were away…" Arturia said, chest rising and falling laboriously with each word spoken, every breath taken. "Something I... do so… rarely..."
He was losing her. "Sire… I…!"
—No, this was the way it should be. The way it was always destined to—
Nimuë interrupted, washing his unspoken shame aside.
—But, this is not the way it might happen. Nor when. You have the chance to alter the events that lead to it. See to it that Arturia lives past these final days. To redeem yourself—
"... I..." He pressed Arturia's hand to his chest. "I'm…"
—But never the outcome, and only if you let her go—
His hold tightened. "I'm…"
—Then, and only then, can you correct your mistake. Only then can you save her—
"... sorry." It relaxed. "Please rest without worry…" He choked on his words. "If you… If you close your eyes again, you will surely continue dreaming where you left off…"
"Dream… the same dream…?"
A sad, faint smile came to his lips as he finally met her eye, "Yes, sire. I have experienced it myself,"—and he was ashamed because of it—"One must only wish hard enough."
"I see," Arturia said, and there was another long pause until she spoke again, eyelids drooping. "Then, I believe… my slumber this time… will be a long one…" As her right eye closed, she bowed her head with that warm smile still upon her face. Arturia, his King, was gone forever.
Bedivere shook. "Are you dreaming again, my King?" His tears flowed freely, running down his cheeks and dripping onto his hand still holding hers. "Are you able to see it? The continuation… of your dream?"
With her for a little while longer, he at last let go and folded his King's hands upon her chest, brushing aside stray strands of her beautiful blonde hair, and drew away. Hearing Nimuë's voice again, looking upon Arturia as she slept peacefully, he vowed never to betray the person most dear to his heart ever again. Eyes on the shimmering sun as its light broke through the trees, whatever he had to do to make it so, would he. It was his new, unbreakable promise, and he'd wish it so, or may the World have his soul till the end of his days.