A long time ago, on a desolate battle field, riddled with the bodies of men and women, warriors who caught till the last breath in a battle they knew they would not win. Two lone figures, one, upon a hill of the bodies of men who fought for his side stood a king. Who- oh, I'm sorry, I meant a "king." Who was faced against a man that wanted one thing, his "father" to love him and be the "father" he wanted, these two, with golden hair and emerald colored eyes, were none other than Arthur, or better knows by HER name as Arturia Pendragon, the "King" of Camelot, and her adversity, her own son, though she doesn't recognize him as such, Brayden Pendragon, who caught to be recognized by his "father" if only once.
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(Only in armor)
They suddenly lunged at each other, clashing swords, knowing one will live, and one will perish, the clash of swords would be all you could hear ringing throughout the land they currently were in. As the battle raged of the "King" realized her mistake, the fact that she had, in fact, been a terrible "Father"to her own son, and decided, the only way to make it up to her son, was in fact, to lose. With the "King" decided, she allowed her son one shot, a thrust right through the stomach, which would ultimately end the war that raged. Arturia, while not making it seem as though she had given up, left the opening and as Brayden took it she spoke.
Arturia: "Brayden, I'm sorry that I have not been the father you needed, or the one you deserved. I hope only that you can forgive me in the next life, if said life comes or not, but for now, please, take my sword, Excalibur, wield it only when you need it's strength, call upon it, draw from it even, but never use it for the wrong means. Promise me this won't you, that you will live a noble life, a life better than I have led for I am a failure. Live on for me.... my son"
As those last words left her mouth, so to did the light from her eyes. Arturia Pendragon.... has died. Brayden could not believe it, he was joyful for his "Father" had accepted him.... yet mournful, that his "father" had passed. Brayden wept, tears not of joy, and not of sorrow, yet of regret, regret that he had to kill his "father" to be acknowledged as her son. So Brayden said, as he cradled his fathers corpse, Excalibur next to him and his own sword, Clarent Blood Arthur, opposite that.
