The Blade of Nevermore

Arthur's POV

Thick smoke hung in the gilded hall, filling my lungs with its putrid stench. Embers from the burnt remnants of destroyed furniture glowed in the darkness, lighting the way, as a hooded figure dragged me into the shadows. He plucked me out of my bed, threatened my life, and threw me over his broad shoulders like a sack of dirty laundry.

My heart pounded in my ears as we descended the stone staircase leading from the royal chambers to the central courtyard. I wanted to call out to my mother, but I knew the penalty for not following orders. I tried to calm my nerves, listening to the silent chaos. Where did everyone go?

This place should be bustling with revelers, drinking and enjoying themselves in the ballrooms, music rooms, and the balconies. The king's laughter rallied the crowd to drink another round, gossip, and scheme in the shadows, while I sat alone in my bedchambers. Castle life was extremely dull for a young prince without siblings or other children to play with.

Instead, there were bodies scattered in the halls and parlors, bloodied and moaning. The banners with the Pendragon crest were ripped and strewn on the ground, covered in the blood of the dead. Many of the wooden carts that carried wares for market day were splintered and broken.

Where was my father, King Uther, and his men? What disturbed the fragile peace my father had knit together with backroom deals and faux smiles? Someone should save me from this bastard, who smelled like rotten flesh. No, he reeked of death.

Death carried me past the overturned tables, once laden with the foods of the gods. The putrid smell of my captor mixed with the stench of the dead made my stomach churn. When I squirmed, trying to flee the horrors in front of my eyes, he squeezed me tightly and said, "Stay still. If they find us, we too will die upon this night."

In the distance, he heard footsteps running toward our direction. He swore, mumbling unintelligible phrases. He dragged me into the shadows and behind the tapestry of the kingdom in its glory. The knob twisted slowly before the stale air from the stairwell sent shivers down my spine. I wondered if my parents were looking for me or if they were already dead. Based on the destruction, I feared the latter.

We descended into the bowels of the castle, the parts I was never allowed to roam. Light did not penetrate the staircase or the tunnels we traveled for what felt like hours. When he finally stopped, he lowered me to the floor. A searing pain shot up my legs from the cold stone floors, but it was his words that pierced my soul.

"You are the last Pendragon."

He did not coddle me or try to ease the pain, regardless of my tender years. There was no time to grieve or cry out for my sweet mother or my stern father. I was alone in this world without a kingdom to rule or a family to love me.

I was nothing less than the dirt that clung to my clothing. My enemies would send me to Nevermore, my mother's codename for the land of the dead, with a sword through my heart or a blade against my throat.

Before I responded, the room filled with several cloaked figures and the dark wizard. I let out a small gasp and tried to escape whatever fate waited for me, but my unnamed captor grabbed my wrists. "Pendragon, we're not your enemy."

Then why did I feel distrust building in my core? Evil clung to them. Were these the narcissists and sycophants who wrapped themselves in my father's good graces to elevate their ambitions in his court? Why would they help me? I was nothing more than an inconvenience to them—a mere child.

"Chain him to the wall. We cannot touch him while the wizard works, or we'll be impacted by the spell."

Someone grunted. "What about after? Will this harm him?"

"No! Don't be fools. We're doing this for his sake. Now, get out of my way."

Unable to see their faces, I lashed out as the anger inside of me exploded. "I shall be your king! Who are you to tether me to the walls and place a spell upon me?"

A low and guttural sound flowed from behind the mask the wizard donned, hiding his order, so I could not trace the magic back to him. As he spoke, all of my courage deflated. I was just a small orphaned boy without a home or a people—nothing more, but a whole lot less. His voice remained confident as he said, "Master Pendragon, you no longer exist."

"Why are you doing this?" I begged. I needed to know the truth, but in the end, it did not matter. He did not explain or provide any comfort before he wove his magic, for he must believe I am too young to understand the world of politics, betrayal, and intrigue.

The emotions that rolled through me as I watched the dark wizard's wand point between my eyes were inexplicable. In that moment, I knew exactly who betrayed me. His face may have been covered, but the gold in his eyes and his purple robes gave him away.

Merlin!

Tendrils of memories slowly started to disappear from my mind. I felt the loss of my mother as our last moments together faded into the recesses of my consciousness. Her sweet smile was gone. My father's gruff voice lingered for a moment, but it too was lost to the dark magic. Precious moments were stolen from my lessons in the nursery to my first sword fight with my father.

Unable to speak, I tried to hold onto everything I held dear, but in the end, I was nothing but a shell of the child I used to be. Fragments of fear and loathing clung to me as I watched my captors huddle and whisper, scheming my penultimate fate.

My knowledge of their names was stolen, but deep down in the shadows of my mind, I knew these were dangerous men to be feared and destroyed. I clung to the lingering distrust, knowing my survival somehow depended on it. Then I vowed that when I grew stronger, I would return to fell my enemies.

I, Arther Pendragon, was no more than an animal left to wander this world alone.