Pain. Terrible pain through my body like a dragon’s fire. And blood. I crawl to the lakeside to try and quench the fire in my side. I turn my head and see him lying there. Motionless in blood stained armor, that evil sword still in his grasp. He may have got me, but I got him back. My blade found his throat. What use was his sword then? I should go and take it, She asked me to take it. No. I don’t want it near me, it bites like hell and the vicious thing still has my blood on it.
Ω Ω Ω
The boy-king went to the clearing as so many had before. Many attended this ‘trial’, because people are so fond of judging others. There was the stone, blanketed in moss and there was the sword, stuck fast in rock as it had been for a hundred years, yet still shining as if it had been forged the day before. The golden, jewel-encrusted hilt was untarnished by rain or by time. Each gem shone bright, the ages had not dulled them. Arthur clasped the sword with both hands. Awe was in the faces of the crowds as the farm boy withdrew the sword from its rocky prison. And for that they made him their king. As if pulling and over-sized knife from a rock is a justifiable reason for giving someone absolute power over the land.
Ω Ω Ω
I killed the king. I murdered him. And for what? Here I lie, bleeding to death. My vision grows ever more hazy and the pain starts to dull. The lake glows brighter and even more golden. The sun has started to set, turning the sky blood red. Not a bad place to die really. Under a fiery sky by the lake of Avalon. There is music coming from the lake now, an unearthly chorus from below the surface. I close my eyes on this world.
(Prompts used: sword)