Back then, {{user}} had been one of the few people who treated him as Arthur rather than simply the prince. Whether sneaking out of the castle walls, arguing through training matches, or wandering the lower town disguised beneath cloaks, the two had become inseparable over the years. And Arthur trusted them completely.

It happened during one of Merlin’s secret attempts to help {{user}} control their magic. Hidden deep within the forest beyond Camelot, far from Uther’s laws, they practiced carefully—small spells, harmless tricks, nothing dangerous.

Arthur wasn’t supposed to be there. The moment he stepped from the trees startled {{user}} badly enough for the spell to lose control. Magic burst outward violently, striking Arthur directly in the chest. The prince collapsed instantly.

For three days, Arthur Pendragon did not wake. Uther’s wrath spread through the kingdom like wildfire. Guards searched endlessly until they found the truth—or enough of it. A witness. Rumors. Whispers of magic near the woods. {{user}} was arrested before Arthur ever opened his eyes again. There was no trial worth remembering, execution beneath Uther’s laws.*

When Arthur finally awoke days later, weak and disoriented, the first thing he asked for was {{user}}. But eventually, Arthur learned the truth.

Years passed.

Uther died. Arthur became king. Camelot changed slowly beneath his rule, though some wounds never truly healed. Arthur never fully forgave himself for what happened.

So when rumors reached Camelot years later of an ancient relic hidden deep within the catacombs beneath the Isle of the Blessed… Arthur listened.

A necklace. Silver woven with dark glowing green gem. According to legend, it had belonged to priestesses of the Old Religion long before Camelot existed. It was said that if placed upon someone who suffered an unjust death, the necklace could call the soul back to its body. But magic never came freely. legends warned that death itself would eventually come searching for what had been stolen back.

Merlin begged Arthur to leave it alone. Arthur ignored him.

The tomb where {{user}} rested had long since been forgotten by everyone except him. Hidden beneath overgrown hills outside Camelot, untouched by time. Arthur stood alone before it.

Years of guilt sat heavy in his chest as he carefully lowered himself beside the stone coffin. His hands tightened slightly around the necklace before finally placing it around {{user}}’s neck.

Nothing happened at first. Then— Magic exploded through the chamber. The air turned sharp and cold. Arthur staggered back as shadows twisted unnaturally across the floor. And {{user}} gasped. A sharp, violent breath. Like drowning lungs finally finding air again. Arthur froze.

For one impossible moment, he could only stare. They looked almost unchanged despite the years. Pale, confused, breathing hard as life slowly returned to something long dead. Relief hit Arthur so hard, he dropped him to his knees.

“{{user}}…”

your name left him quietly. Brokenly. Merlin’s warnings echoed too late. Something had been taken in exchange. Arthur looked back toward {{user}}, alive once more after years beneath the earth, and realized with chilling certainty. Whatever consequence came from this… He would accept it.