Origins
Arthur stares at his corpse.
He sees his own mangled body; bruised, bleeding, and guts spilling out from the wound that bisects his torso. There’s blood everywhere and it just keeps pouring even though he knows there’s no life in that body. The blood keeps pooling.
It’s dark, so dark it could be black.
Did he have black blood pumping through his body? Was this proof of his black heart? He’s been told that he had no soul before. Was this proof that it was true?
It’s not as if he is tangible, but standing in that growing pool of warm dark blood feels wrong. Maybe it’s the fact that he used to be the one living in that body. That is his body.
At least it was.
Arthur can’t help but to keep staring at his dead body.
He barely notices the gleaming crown that sits next to himit the body. His crown. The crown that was his father’s, and then his.
His only distraction is Merlin.
Merlin, who’s just come into the clearing with the body.
Merlin, his Mage.
Merlin, his best friend.
Merlin, the other side of his coin.
Maybe it’s because he’s dead, or maybe it’s him, but Arthur feels as though time is extraordinarily slow and fast at the same time.
One second Merlin is across the field, and the next, he’s kneeling in a pool of blood trying to shove Arthur’s body back together. He’s pulling his tunic away and trying to cast healing spells that will be useless —sticking his hands in his fallen intestines and trying to shove them back into the body.
He doesn’t seem to care about the wet squelching sound, “Arthur! Come on! Help me! You’re going to die if we don’t get these where they belong!”
The body’s glassy, clouded eyes stare. It has no response for the fearful Mage.
Arthur moves closer, trying to get his Mage to listen. There’s no use; his hands pass through the living.
Merlin’s entire body is coated in blood, he’s still moving the corpse’s loose pieces around, trying to make them fit together again.
Arthur steps back and leans over to the side, feeling sick but not being able to vomit. It’s only then that he has noticed more people across the field. His Lady wife, Guinevere, is running as fast as she can in the long dress. Behind her, Morgana, Lancelot, Percival, and Morgause are at a slower pace, but nonetheless trying to make it over to the body.
Guinevere’s long beautiful dress is soon covered in blood like Merlin.
Her wails seem louder than anything he’s ever heard and she’s not trying to put the organs back in the body, but she is holding it’s face. She leans her head in to touch foreheads. It had been a common gesture that Arthur used with all his friends and family. Arthur thought that touching heads was a sentimentality that he could afford in private.
He felt that it shared his thoughts of love for people, touching heads; his reasoning was that love would transfer the closer that they touched minds.
Arthur would often bring people’s heads in whenever he felt especially affectionate. Obviously, it had been when most of his court and common people couldn’t see.
He’s only paying attention to Guin now.
He can’t hear what she is saying to the body, he doesn’t want to get that close, but he can see the sobs and thought they might be prayers as it seems that she is repeating the same thing over and over again.
His poor Guinevere had given up her belief of gods beyond that of Mother Magic when she had become his wife. Of course, not because she was marrying him, but because she had said she was tired of empty answers from the Christian god.
All of Arthur’s closest friends knew that their marriage was a sham. Guinevere was logical, smart, considerate, and had been by Arthur’s side for years. It was by destiny that she’d fallen in love with both Merlin and Morgana, and Arthur was honored to help his best friends stay together. It had been a win-win for everyone; Arthur wouldn’t be pressured to marry a stranger, his closest friends would be happy, and the kingdom prospered with the introduction of someone with the point of view of having been lower-born.
Is this what everyone talks about before death? The reliving of his fondest memories.
He can only look at his friends and family and remember what made them. His fondest memories of them replaying while he looks as they crowd around a cooling corpse.
He sees Morgana pull Guin away from the body as Morgause tries to get Merlin to drop the bloody organs. Percival and Lancelot come up behind the parting Guin and Morgana and wrap their white cloaks around each woman.
Morgause is still sitting with Merlin, in a puddle of blood.
“Merlin. He’s gone.” It’s said gently, quietly.
There’s a heavy sob.
“No, he’s not! I can fix this! I need your help to put him back together! There’s a spell, I’ve seen it. It’s in the tome we got from Igraine’s people. We can make him better again!”
Morgause looks forlorn, setting a hand on his shoulder, “Merlin. That’s dark magic. Darker than we have ever done; It’s the kind that breaks your soul,” she takes a breath, “—I can’t lose someone else, Merlin, I forbid it.”
Merlin slaps Morgause’s hand away, getting a splatter of blood on her previously clean form. He shifts back into a low squat, and then collapses on his knees completely. The sobs wracking from his body move him entirely.
Arthur moves past his own revulsion of the corpse and moves over to Merlin, sitting down next to him.
It’s not as if Merlin can hear him, but he talks to him anyways, “Merlin. I, I’m sorry. We both knew this would only go on for so long though. How was I supposed to be the ‘Boy King’ if I wasn’t a boy anymore? You were always going to be the best Mage, but there always had to be a reason for you to become that. You know that, right? I was always going to die. Here in this field. And when I think about it, I don’t know how I didn’t realize it sooner.”
Arthur huffs a wet laugh, “I mean, I didn’t even think about my life continuing in old age. I’ve never thought about where I would be in a decade, I’ve never thought about what children I would have. I, I just,” He stops for a moment, realizing this is the only opportunity he’ll get to say it out loud, “—I just couldn’t see my life without you in it, and you already loved Guin and Morgana. You have always been the perfect relationship, and I thought that maybe I would ruin it if I had ever said anything. And whenever I thought about children, I realized that they were always going to be yours, and then I remembered that it wouldn’t happen like that.”
He reaches out a hand to brush it against Merlin’s face, his fingertips lightly passing into the living Mage’s cheek, “I just wanted you to know that this is okay. I’m okay. I’ll see you again, remember? This life and the next; We promised.”
And as though his words travel from death to life, he hears Merlin whisper under his breath, “This life and the next, I promise Arthur.”
Arthur watches as Merlin slowly gets up from his hunched position on the ground, dragging his hands across the bloody, muddy ground as he pushes himself up to squatting again. Merlin wipes his hands on his soiled clothing, proceeding to run his hands across the body’s face to close the glassy eyes. He then cups each side of the face and brings their heads together, lightly resting his forehead on the other.
One final head bump signifies the end and Merlin mutters something under his breath before standing up and taking a few steps back, all the while scooping the fallen crown off the ground and shoving it into Morgause’s hands.
Arthur watches as the body looks to begin to steam, before it quickly catches fire all at once, and he walks over to his friends, wanting to be with them while it happens.
Morgause was slow to question Merlin, “Why are you burning him here? He should be in the crypts with the rest of our family.”
“Because he needs to burn here. It’ll keep the wheel turning.”
Merlin’s solemn reply didn’t answer Morgause’s question.
“What have you done?”
“What needs to be done.”
And that is the end of it.
Merlin takes off to where Morgana and Guin left with the knights. Gone.
Morgause eventually leaves as well, but not before she lets out a quick druidic prayer and some parting words, “Brother, I will see you again. Try not to take too long? All three of them get awfully impatient.”
Arthur sits there until the body was a pile of ash with not even the bones to stay whole. A smoldering pile of ashes is what is left of his legacy and life in the end, everything else going to his sister, Morgana, Guin, and Merlin.
Day turns into night, and he is left screaming, “Come on! Take me already! This is it, there’s nothing left now!”
Maybe this is how ghosts form, screaming for it to be the end and it never comes. Not that he gets enough time to become a ghost.
“What would you give?”
It’s a quiet question, and he can’t figure out where it comes from, as swiftly looks at his surroundings, trying to see the cause.
“How would you greet me?”
He sees shadows pull together, the light of the moon only lighting up so much of his surroundings.
“Do you fear me?”
The questions embodied a hundred voices, all just as soft as the one before.
“Would you see me as evil?”
The shadows gather into a form, filling out the space in front of him, obscuring his eyeline of anything else than the form that emerges, and in it, a shadow-clothed figure.
The figure was colossal, having to kneel and lean in order to bring their head to Arthur.
“It’s unusual for me to appear so large, mortal, do you see me vastly?”
Their scarred lips did not move, their words permeating through their mind, “And still you do not answer my questions. I have given you all this time, and you waste mine.”
They tilted their head, “Oh, time, what speculation it has. I could sit here for days and still your mortal mind would not grasp it, lest it explode.”
Arthur finally manages to gasp out some words, “Who are you?”
They tut, “You mortals, always so entitled to answers they believe to be theirs,” humming they continue, “Hmm, I wouldn’t expect you to be so… feeble. I’ve been hearing on and on about this ‘boy king’, and it is clear to me that you really are still a child.”
They move, taking their hands and grasping around Arthur’s body, “I will have to take care of this myself then, from beginning to end. I wouldn’t be able to stand someone so… foolish. Don’t worry, I’ll only be in your head for a moment.”
It is agony, and it lasts for what feels like eternity. He can feel the figure latch into his mind, feels it rifling through every thought and feeling.
“Oh. Oh. Yes, you will be a fine choice. Although you are still quite unrefined, mayhap we can solve this with a little tweaking and some experience.”
He feels them pull and push, remolding everything that makes Arthur, Arthur.
“You have such a strong sense of justice and chivalry, and all those mortal feelings. Those might get in the way. Perhaps I shall make them quieter, after all, there is no justice. There is only me.”
They chuckle, “Oh you know who I am, don’t you? You panicked so quickly earlier; I wasn’t sure if your little mortal brain would ever figure it out. You may call me whatever you want though, I understand everyone gives me a different name. Perhaps Bale, or Than, even perhaps Death if you would like to remain distant. While it is concise, it lacks familiarity, and you, boy king, are not unfamiliar with me. I’ve been with you your whole life. I practically followed you around.”
The torment seems to stop all at once, leaving him with clear thoughts.
Bringing him closer to their face while they stand to full height, they peer at him with their glowing eyes. He can see them more clearly than he had before, noticing that they hold somewhat feminine features. He looks down hopeful for the ground, but they only see the half-appeared form of the personification of Death.
They had nebular fabric flowing freely around their body, occasionally showing features of the form they wore, shifting bodies like they’re just a mirage.
It hurt Arthur’s head to try and focus on anything but their ominous glowing eyes and scarred lips.
“Oh, boy king, my form is not yours to perceive.”
They look at him curiously, their eyes changing from indignant to gentle, “Besides, you have other things to think about now. There’s no need for you to panic, I’ve just decided you need a little bit longer on this plane. It’ll give you time to grow into your new mind. Of course, coming to life takes time, so it will be quite a while and you will mostly be alone, but where there’s a will, there’s a way.”
Arthur can’t breathe, not that he thinks he needs to, but all the same; he can’t.
“One last thing,” she pauses, “Make Chaos.”
WC:2316