Who Would Ever Want to be King

A Shadowed Calm

The warm rays of light beamed through Arthur's bedroom window, illuminating the area. It was summertime, but the breeze made the sun feel welcoming. Everything felt safe for the king. If only he could stay there for the rest of his life. That feeling was short lived, however, when the sound of his door slammed open. "Arthur!" Mordred called, waking both him and Guinevere.

"Mordred," Guinevere scolded, "How many do we have to tell you to knock?"

"You won't wake up as quickly." the knight responded, examining the mess of a desk the king had, "All of us are awake, already. Shame that the king himself isn't." Arthur quickly got off the bed, stopping his son from touching anything.

"Why are you here?" he questioned.

"Your brother wants to see you. And..." he hesitated.

"Ok," Arthur said, looking out the door to see nothing, "Where is Sir Bedivere?" Mordred rolled his eyes in annoyance.

"In his room fixing his arm-thing." he responded, "Arthur, he doesn't have to follow me around everywhere."

"I know, but I'm the king and it's still an order." Mordred was done.

"Ugh, forget it," he growled, "Sir Kay wants you." He then left, shutting the door loudly.

"I thought we told him not to do that." Guinevere commented. Arthur just smiled.

"He's still got a lot to learn." he said, looking out the window. He closed his eyes, soaking up the warm sunlight. He breathed in the fresh, mind numbing air of the British countryside. It's lush, bright pastures went as far as the eye could see, people and animals walking to and fro, not a conflict in sight. After years and years of fighting, things were finally perfect and peaceful. "Look at this beauty, Guinevere," Arthur spoke, "Peace. No fighting, no conflict, just me and others helping out. What more could you want?"

Guinevere looked out the window, herself. "Yeah, it certainly is. Did you ever think you'd get here?" she asked him. Arthur shook his head.

"Not really." he replied. Memories came flooding back, giving him an odd nostalgia, especially the day when he became king. "When I pulled that sword out of the stone and learned about my father," he began, "I didn't know where my life was headed. And when Merlin...warned me about things, I honestly thought I'd be fighting for the rest of my life." He chuckled, remembering his breakdown with his sister.

"But thankfully, that didn't happen." Guinevere chimed in.

"Yup," Arthur smiled at her praise, "I worked through it and look at that, Camelot is at peace." They both stared at the window for a moment.

"Arthur," Guinevere suddenly said, "Your brother."

"I know." Arthur said, turning back to his room. After a quick change, he immediately headed to Bedivere's room. He figured he could talk with Kay later. Opening the slightly opened door, he saw the knight sitting on his bed, looking at the prosthetic thoroughly. "Bedivere." Arthur said, walking in. The knight flinched.

"My king," he said, instantly standing up, "I'm so sorry for not watching Sir Mordred. I promise, it won't happen again."

"Bedivere, it's ok," Arthur reassured him, "You don't have to apologize."

"I'm sorry." the knight apologized again. Arthur asked if anything was going on and Bedivere lifted the metal arm. "It's this," he explained, "Recently, I've noticed that it's become stiffer than normal." He moved it up and down to demonstrate. The movements were jerky and not as fluid as it usually was. "And," he continued, lifting his sleeve to show where the arm connected. Touching it with his other hand, the piece shifted easily. "I'm afraid it might be loose." he finished.