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You always knew you were a sinner.
There is more blood on your hands than your uncle wants to see spilled. You felt no mercy as Lamorak coughed up blood and begged to be spared.
But at least you never betrayed your king.
You wonder if he will remember when he sees your body. If this time he will top defending the man who dared to continue to smile at him after getting into his bride's bed.
If he can finally open his eyes and see all the rot that lurks in his shining court.
But you do not want to hope too much. He will probably regret the traitor's loss more than yours. And even if he doesn't, none of your companions will shed a tear for you.
You've made too many enemies in this life. You have never regretted it until this moment.
You don't even know if, given the chance to survive, you would go back. It would be nice to know that someone will miss you. But you would never be able to mend the bonds you broke in your desire to rise above others. Once you put out the fire of envy, you don't know what else could be driving you.
You did not even manage to eliminate the man you most wanted to see fall. And even if his treachery has been discovered, your life will not be considered by anyone too high a price for the revelation of his disloyalty.
You will be remembered only as the wild son of Orkney, thirsty for blood and revenge, and many will sleep better once they hear of your passing. If the thought gave you comfort while you were alive, now you only wish you hadn't spent your life hating those who were brighter than you.
Maybe then your end would have been happier. You probably wouldn't even have died the same way.
At least you wouldn't be here, bleeding out alone, on the cold floor of the room of two blasphemous lovers. When you watched Lamorak take his last ragged breaths, you did not think it would happen to you.
But, if you had someone to call a friend by your side, it would not be so hard to wait for nothing to come.
You manage to block your thoughts before they can degenerate. They will not help you right now, just as they did not help you in life.
It was not out of loyalty that you avenged your uncle's honor. Part of you hopes he does not notice.
You just want to feel like it was worth getting to this point.
…
Your mother would laugh at you if she were here.
She has every right to do so. The man who treacherously killed her, eliminated without warning by a traitor. You would laugh too, if breathing wasn't too painful.
This day would have been hard enough to bear without ending with your death, and with Gareth's cries ringing in your head while you are unable to move and look for him.
It is the right punishment for someone like you, and you are not blind enough not to recognize it.
You would not have wanted to let your queen burn, despite her guilt. But you were not as kind to your own blood. And even if that was not why Lancelot wanted to kill you, you cannot help but feel like fate is punishing you.
But by now, it is too late to regret. At least you are certain that this was the fate you deserved. You could not escape your damnation forever.
You should have no reason to cry for your life. Not after everything you have done. You should have known that sooner or later you would pay for your sins, and your end would not be peaceful.
At least you will see Agravain again. You will burn together, struck down by the same hand. You never thought the thought would bring you comfort.
But Gareth should not be here dying with you. There was no reason why he should pay too.
And there will be someone who will suffer your end in your place. Your uncle has already lost a nephew, a spouse, and a friend. And even if he may accept it, Gawain will not. You listened as he asked you not to participate in the execution.
You do not deserve Lynette's tears.
At least you will not see their mourning. At least you will never know what will happen next, when you are no longer here.
Death brings more death. You have witnessed this many times. And you know that your end is just the beginning. Your brother will not let this act go unpunished.
It's not worth it. Maybe for Gareth. But not for you.
But through your clouded eyes you find no one alive to tell. The blood trail has already been traced. The downfall of Camelot has begun, and you will not be able to stop it. You are dying alone and a sinner, and everything around you is burning.
You try to speak, but only smoke from the fire fills your lungs as you take your last breath. Mother, you try to call, are you satisfied now?
…
You should never have come here.
You should not have agreed to watch the death of the woman you swore to serve and honor. Perhaps, despite her guilt, you should have tried to prevent this sentence from falling on her.
At least she is safe. But, if you had resisted – if only you had decided to follow Gawain and walk away from this place until the ashes had cooled – you would be too.
You just expected that you would contemplate an end you should have opposed to, go home, and try to shake off the memory. You did not believe your life would end instead.
You did not think he would be the one to hit you.
You would not have stopped him. If you had had the courage, you would have joined him. You remember the last words you spoke – you vaguely remember trying to call him, telling him you were not going to fight him, begging him to save the queen.
It was not enough.
You do not want to blame him. Maybe if Lyonesse had been in Guinevere's place, you would have done the same thing he did, even if it meant breaking your vows.
But, even when your soul has completely detached from your body, you will not forget the look on his face as he hit you. The fury, the blind desire to pour blood and fire into the world just so he would not lose everything.
He hated you as his blade fell upon you. His eyes killed you before the metal.
If you had survived, maybe you would have had to fight him. Maybe you would have had to face his contempt again anyway. And you would have had to live with the fact that, after today, he became an enemy.
But this awareness does not save you as you drown in the cold and darkness, with the memory of your last meeting burning inside you.
For a moment you wish you had died before you met your wife, when you had not revealed the truth yet. You would have died anyway, but it would not have been with the knowledge that your world was poisoned and about to collapse. It would not have been with the thought of what Lyonesse will feel when they bring her your bod. It wouldn't be by the hand of the man you considered a friend.
If you had died before, you would not be here wondering what will be the fate of your now too torn family, of the kingdom you swore to protect and of whose fall you will be only one of the first victims.
If you could get up, if you still had the strength to speak, you would go to your uncle and beg him not to shed any more blood. To give up his revenge, not to allow others to end up like you.
But you're too busy wishing for your agony to be short to try. You can only pray – and desperately try to ignore the awareness that your prayers will go unanswered.