For the Love of Camelot

Prologue

Arthur gasped as the sword was embedded in his gut. Mordred stood but inches away from him, malice apparent in his eyes. The King's eyes widened as the druid withdrew his weapon, but soon enough his expression hardened. In one quick motion he stabbed through his old friend's chainmail and Mordred fell, smiling as life was released from him. He had completed his destiny, and he had met his doom. Arthur's last thoughts as he collapsed were of the mysterious sorcerer that had stood on top of the cliff, and why on earth he had bothered to help.

...

The battlefield was littered with dead bodies, mostly of his doing. The thought made him cringe, but at least he had managed to protect Arthur. Right?

Out of the corner of his eye, the warlock saw a dark figure approaching his King, sword drawn. Arthur's Bane. But Merlin could not release his attention from the powerful magic that he was wreaking on Morgana's army, and could only watch hopelessly as the man he loved and the druid boy fell, the druid boy who he should've let die so long ago. Tears began to swim in his eyes as he finished the spell and turned abruptly, hiking down the hill. With each coming moment the warlock picked up his pace, worry eminent in his features. Arthur was not dead yet. No, he could feel the life that still clung on to him, like a spider to its gossamer creation. Perhaps that wasn't the best description, since Arthur was deathly afraid of spiders, but certainly not deathly afraid of life. That wouldn't make sense, after all. Merlin always used to smile when he thought about Arthur and spiders. Now, he frowned. If he couldn't save Arthur, spiders wouldn't matter. If he couldn't save Arthur, nothing would matter anymore. If he couldn't save Arthur, he would be tossed into an endless pit of oblivion, spiraling for the rest of eternity with the knowledge that he had failed. Knowledge that he had failed his King, his love, his dollopheaded clotpole. Merlin couldn't let that happen. He couldn't let his King die. And so the warlock quickened his pace as he stepped over corpses, the golden-haired man in sight. He would save Arthur. No matter what it took.