The Twin Swords of Camelot

Chapter 1: Arthur's Legacy

Camelot at the dead of night. January, cold. Heading into the worst of winter's chill in fact. Fresh snow, white powder covering absolutely everything. From the rolling hills, to the farmlands, the outer city, the wall, the city proper and of course, Castle Pendragon.

That massive structure of grey stone and gold trim. With its shingles the brightest and proudest of blues. Spires upon towers upon high-rises. A symbol of strength and longevity that has weathered the storm that is time's unending march forward.

She sits atop the mountain, looking down upon the rest of Camelot. A reminder that the line of Pendragon is a line touched by God himself.

Step closer. All the way in, if you'd please. I will throw wide its doors for you. Make you its honored guest. Especially right here in this moment.

Call it a vision or a premonition, call it whatever you want. I simply have a feeling something interesting awaits us.

Ah, but silent a moment. Can you hear it? The crying of a babe newly born. Yes, a new royal has just entered the world of Myria. How exciting! Come with me.

Let me take your hand as we fly past the grand hall and its lavish thrones. Through corridor after corridor, hallways you swear could stretch on for miles. Take off your shoes, let your feet walk upon the svelte rugs and know you are almost certainly the only person who has done so.

See the paintings on the walls, how they show the proud line of kings and queens. Their eyes ever watching you, judging you, questioning if you even have the right to be here.

Keep up now, the cries are getting louder!

You can put your shoes back on, we needn't have the royals think of us as savages. And you do wish to make a good impression, don't you.

Just one more turn, I swear it. Hear your heels clack on the marble floors. Do not clip your shoulder on any of the lit candelabras. Gaze up to the impossibly large chandeliers above and wonder how they could ever get something so massive to never give in to gravity.

"Marcus! Where is Marcus!" A distressed and exhausted woman calls out from a room just up ahead.

A man dressed in fine silks with a golden crown atop his head, rushes into the room.

"Catharyn, my love!" He exclaims as he rushes to her side.

This Catharyn lays in bed, legs spread wide, drenched in sweat. Her face is red and she has the look of someone who fought a dragon with their fists.

"I came as soon as I heard! Tell me I did not miss-" Says King Marcus.

"I am afraid, my Liege, you have." A man in surgeons attire turns to the king and queen. He is covered in blood but wears a smile.

In his arms is a newborn. Whimpering and trembling. Letting out small cries for attention.

Catharyn chokes up, sniffling. Tears well in Marcus's eyes.

"It is a boy, your grace." The doctor slowly hands the child to Marcus.

The king cradles his child with shaking hands. Unable to hold back his tears as he brings the boy closer to his mother.

"A boy, Catharyn." He whispers.

"A b-boy." She repeats joyfully. Still panting as she makes to take him into her arms.

But then, there is pain. It twists her face and forces her to hold her still swollen belly.

"What is going on? What was that?" Asks the king.

The doctor looks down between the queens legs in horror and immediately calls the nurses back to his side.

"What... What is happening?" Asks Catharyn.