Arthur was standing on the highest parapet, overlooking Albion. He had brought magic back, and united all the lands of Albion in his time, but he was old now. Not as old as his father had been when he died, but old enough that his reflexes are slowing, slightly, old enough that he feels each injury taking slightly longer to heal than the last.
He is alone now too. Gwen had died years before, but she had been the only woman he ever truly loved, and however many times his Court told him he must produce an heir, he couldn’t bring it upon himself to marry another woman. To betray her memory like...
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