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Arthur has been looking up at the throne for a while now. For as long as he can remember, Arthur has known he would be the one sitting there one day. But still, Arthur feels he is not ready for it. Maybe he will never be.
It feels unreal. Arthur watches the world around him as if he is doing it for the first time. Or as it has been one thousand years since the last time Arthur did. And he keeps forgetting, on more than one occasion, biting his tongue as he was about to say, “I’ll ask the King,” before remembering he is the King. There is no one to ask anymore because he is the one who decides now. Once they have put his father to rest, Arthur will be the one on that throne.
“It is time.” Arthur turns, and there stands Merlin, solemn and subdued in a manner Arthur has never seen him before. He nods and walks to his future.