A Legend Lviving His Story [King!EnglandxReaderxKnight!America]

Legacy

  "In every end is a new beginning."

  I ponder at Merlin's statement earlier. Earlier, I rode back to the well only to see Merlin sanding near it. He's standing still, like a clay statue, and I could barely hear his breathing, but I can feel him staring intensely inside of it. I was about to say something, wen he suddenly spoke, to which startled me.
  "In every beginning is an end. Come back here with your son and leave us be. He will be safe, I promise." I was about to ask again, but I saw my king-me lurking in the shadows of the trees and giving me a nod.
  And with that, I galloped back to the manor.
  I woke [s/n] up and brought him to Merlin as he stated, but without telling myself what about because I don't know either. After I've given [s/n] to Merlin, I hesitantly rode back to the manor, still pondering on Merlin's actions.
  And now, here I am, up at my writing room, breaking a sweat off from thinking of possibilities that might happen.
  And then King Uther crossed my mind.
  I sit up straight and pressed my hands on the desk.
  Will Merlin take [s/n] away from me as well? But isn't King Richard supposed to be King Uther, and I am his son?

---

[S/n]'s P.O.V.

  He's giving me an odd feeling. The way he stands in his dove-grey hood, his long beard, his wrinkly hands, and his smiling eyes.
  He's creepy.
  "Worry not, I shall simply pass the legacy at your hands, and you shall carry it soon."
  "Legacy? That's a new word, what does it mean?"
  "It is when something is given to you at will by your predecessor, to which in this case, is your father, King Arthur," But before I could ask, "a predecessor is a former owner of a position or a title."
  My eyes widened in realisation.
  Me? A king?

  "Look in this well. It has nothing more to show to your father, but it has a lot more for you. You look up to your father, don't you?" I nod and look up at him.
  "This well is what gave him the motivation to be the king that he is. And now, it's your time. It shall show you your father's story in another perspective, and you shall learn from it while he is away."

  Ygerna moans. She sounds like little Alice when she is asleep, or half-asleep, and doesn't even know she is whimpering.
  "Let me see," she pleads. And then again, fiercely: "Show him to me!"
  The midwife holds up the baby and Ygerna reaches out for him. But Uther raises his right hand. "Wrap him in gold cloth," he tells the midwife.
  Then Uther sits on the edge of the bed, and looks down at his wife, and Ygerna grasps the king's right wrist and digs her fingernails into it. "It is not what I wish," the king says gently. "It is what I promised."
  King Uther walks out of the chamber, carrying the baby. He strides down q corridor. The pale oak floorboards creak. The walls are dinted with hounds and wolves, hares and cats, owls, blackbirds and other birds and beasts.
  Now the baby begins to wail, as if he knows he is being taken away from his mother.
  Footsteps and cries . . . in the corridor, they bounce from wall to wall, ceiling to floor. The whole world is full of beating drums and flashing knives.
  The king unbolts a door and, outside, the hooded man is waiting. For a moment, the two men say nothing. They just stand there on either side of the threshold.
  "Ygerna . . ." The king begins. But that's all he says, because it is useless to say anything. He shakes his head.
  "I said I would help you," the hooded man says. "I never said there would be no price." Then he looks at the baby, wrapped in gold.
  "Will I see him again?" Asks king Uther.
  "He will be sad," the hooded man replies.
  "That is not what I asked."
  The sorcerer looks at the king. "Some questions are better not asked," he says. "A knight and his wife will foster your son. They are loyal to you, strict and kind. They have three other sons, one is eight years old, one is six, one is three. The woman will wean him and feed your baby with her own milk."
  "What are their names?"
  The hooded man says nothing.
  "Where?" Asks Uther. "Where are you taking him?"
  "Away to the west," the hooded man replies. "He was conceived where sky and water meet. He is the child of crossing-places, and I will take him home."
  "Home?" Repeats the king.
  "His foster parents will name him and have him christened. They will bring him up, and teach him to dress his lord, to tilt and to parry, even to read and write. They will keep him at home until he is thirteen - and I will watch over him."
  "And then?" asks King Uther, king if Britain.
  The hooded man takes the baby out of the king's arms.
  "I will come for him," he says, "when his time comes."

There is nothing but pitch black, but despite all of it, there is a voice speaking.

  "Remember the words of our Lord," says a voice. It must have been a priest. "He said, 'Ask, and you will receive.' He said, 'Seek, and you will find.' Listen to us, Lord. Let us who ask receive. Let us who seek find. Open the gate to those who knock." He sounds like Gareth, the priest that had just died. But maybe that's because Gareth likes saying the same thing twice, or else priests saying prayers all sound like each other.
  "Lord," says the priest, "we pray this baby will be blessed by your heavenly washing. Let him be an heir to the kingdom of heaven." The priest coughs. "Who speaks in the name of this child?" He asks.
  "I do," booms a deep voice, and i recognise it at once. It is the hooded man.
  "In the name of this child, will you renounce the devil and all his works?"
  "I renounce them."
  "Do you believe in three-in-one and one-in-three?"
  "I believe."
  "Lord," says the priest, "bless this water. Let it wash away sin. Let the old Adam in this child die and be buried. Let the spirit live and grow in him."
  "Amen," says the hooded man.
  "Amen," say several voices. Who are they? They must be the baby's foster mother and his foster father. His brothers. His whole family. I wish I could see them.
  "Who names this child?" Asks the priest.
  "I name him," says the hooded man.
  "Name him!" Commands the priest.
  But I can't hear what name the hooded man gives the baby because of the sip-and-slop and splashing of water as the priest dips the baby into the font, and the then baby's telling because the November water is so cold.
  "I baptise you," says the priest, "in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost, Amen."

Then I see the pictures again.

There is a boy and he is alone. Kneeling in front of a huge tombstone in a forest clearing. I can't see who he is, though, because his back is turned to me.
  For a long time, he remains on his knees.
  Then I see what is carved on the tombstone. Just one word. BROTHER.
   I can hear hooves, and then two horses gallop into the clearing. One is riderless and the other carries a knight holding a black shield with a yellow star on it. Then a second horseman gallops into the clearing. It is the hooded man!
  The knight and the hooded man dismount, and kneel down on either side of the boy. Ring-doves sing their throaty, three-note songs and rusty leaves soon down from the oaks and beech-trees.
  "What is your name?" The knight asks the boy.
  "Arthur."
  "That is right," says the knight.
  "What does it mean?" Asks the boy.
  "One thing and many," replies the hooded man.
  "Each of us must grow into his own name," says the knight.
  "What is your name, sir?" Arthur asks the knight.
  "Pellinore," says the knight. "And I'm hunting the Yelping Beast."
  "The Yelping Beast?"
  "It's then years since I last glimpsed him," Sir Pellinore says with so deep a sigh that his shoulders heave. "He has a head like a snake and a leopard's body, a lion's backside, feet like a hart."
  "The strangest beast on middle-earth," says the hooded man.
  "And the strangest of all is the sound he makes," adds the knight. "He's not so very large, no larger than a pony, but when he yelps he sounds as if there are sixty hounds baying inside him."
  "Why are you hunting him?" Arthur asks Sir Pellinore.
  "Because he's my quest."
  "What is a quest?"
  "A long journey, with many adventures, many setbacks, many dangers."
  "Where to?"
  "Ah!" Says the knight. "That's the point. That's what you have to find out. Then you'll grow into your name."
  "Each of us must have a dream to light our way through this dark world," Sir Pellinore says.
  "So, Arthur," says the hooded man in his deep voice, "what will your quest be?"
  Then the hooded man and the knight take Arthur by the left arm and the right, and raise him to his feet. They bow to him, and give him the reins of the riderless horse. Then they mount their own horses and ride away, deeper into the forest.
  Arthur is alone.
  He turns around, very slowly, and i recognise him.

  Arthur is my father: my father is Arthur.

XII.