Camelot was long fallen, but her castle walls stood tall, proud of what she once was, and the stories she told But even with the constant promise that the future cannot and will not be predicted, one thing remains the same That was the nightmare of his choice, and for some twisted reason even he couldn't figure out, he wouldn't have it any other way But if you looked hard enough, you would find an ancient book of magic, wrapped in red and blue neckerchiefs that once belonged to a loyal serving boy These were not marks he could magic away. They would stay with him long after Arthur found out, long after he was dead and gone He was the hero of his own twisted story, a beautiful tale of death and bloodshed {inserts from various chapters} A little Merthur, a little sadness, a little bad poetry
11 parts