Merlyn's Final Truth

A Herald of a New Age P1

The forests were dark, the cloudy day allowing little light through the trees. Arthur was the first to admit it was eerie, something about the way such idyllic beauty could scarper to the confines of darkness, brambles looming above them, imposing on their bravery.

"All right. Who drank all my water?" Elyan sighed, snapping Arthur from his morbid feelings. He was leant against a tree, his empty waterskin tight in his grasp. Arthur glanced around to his knights, smirking as Gwaine belched.

"I believe you have your answer." He tried to suppress his grin, unsurprised at Gwaine's lack of shame.

"You said I could have some." The knight shrugged, unabashed.

"I said you could have some." Elyan hissed, clearly annoyed, throwing the skin at Gwaine. "I didn't say you could drink every last drop."

Gwaine caught it. "I was thirsty."

"Here, have some of mine." Leon, pragmatic as always, reached out to pass the water to Elyan, but at the very last moment, chucked it behind him, Percival catching it with a chuckle.

Elyan laughed sarcastically. "That's very funny."

Percival stepped forward, squeezing between Gwaine and Leon. "Here, unlike these ignorant fools, I share with my friends."

Just as Elyan's fingers brushed the leather of the waterskin, Percival flung it towards Arthur. He caught it, tossing it unthinkingly towards Merlyn-

The skin landed in the soil. Of course.

The knights were suddenly silent, their mood subdued. No one moved to pick up the waterskin, a sharp reminder of the absence plucking at their heartstrings.

Arthur couldn't meet their eyes. He turned, scanning the forest absently, frowning as he squinted through the trees. There was something hidden between them, odd scraps of cloth drifting in the wind.

"There's something... Look, there." He pointed, drawing his sword. The knights followed, picking their way through the rocky ground until they found a small clearing. It was lined with rags strung up on lines tied between trunks. Strange objects lined the shrubbery, feathers hanging from old staffs. There was a thrum to the air, an energy that made Arthur's heart beat faster against his chest.

"What is this place?" Gwaine breathed, a gentle breeze tugging against the fabric.

This is a shrine.

It's what she would say, what Arthur felt to be right. Something told him he should turn his back on all of this and run as fast as he could towards Camelot, never looking back.

"In the time of the old religion, they built shrines like this to appease restless spirits." Percival whispered, almost in awe.

We shouldn't be here.

She'd be right, of course. There was something here that terrified Arthur to his very core.

Places like these... They're cursed. Run.

The wind whipped around them, a crow cawing as it flew over their heads. Arthur almost jumped, sudden panic causing him to shiver. This was not somewhere he was supposed to be.

"There's nothing here for us." He said, trying to keep the fear out of his voice. "Move out."

If the other noticed the speed in which he fled the camp, they didn't acknowledge it. He wondered if Leon recognised the place, whether it haunted him as much as it did the young king.

~

She would ask.

Arthur stood in the armoury, slowly undoing his arm guard as his knights pottered around him, the sound of metal clanging in the air. Leon brushed past him, placing his helmet on the table in front of the brooding king, a strange silence falling between them.