Chapter Text
prologue.
The clock struck midnight, and the peace Merlin had begun to feel in his soul was torn to shreds. Ice seemed to sprout from inside his very core, seeping into every pore of his body. He glanced from the figure in the middle of the ballroom - one, whom no one else seemed to notice - and took a look at his king, toasting to Camelot and all its citizens. And as the air in his lungs escaped him, his body slowly sinking to the hard floors beneath him, all he heard was a voice coming from deep in the earth, speaking as clear as anything.
Emrys.
As Merlin fell unconscious to the floor, multiple knights were on him immediately and it took all of Arthur’s willpower to not rush to his side as well. He tried to quickly regain the attention of the people, taking everyone’s eyes off of his servant, as he watched Lancelot carry him out, Gaius quickly following him. He held up his goblet again, calling for another toast, and as his eyes scanned the crowd, he felt almost empty, because when all their voices rang out, the one he wanted to hear the most wasn’t there. Yet, he smiled for his people and let them toast to his good name.
Arthur Pendragon, king of Camelot.