(A/N: No I'm not fucking up he and she, it's on purpose.)

A desolate field with naught but corpses in sight for miles and miles, the lush grass that had once covered the plains had been dyed red with blood, defiled by detached limbs, bloody weapons and innards from the dead.

The setting Sun peeking out from behind the clouds covering the dark skies created a strange sort of aesthetic, casting dimmed light on this dark tragedy..

This was, the battle of Camlann.

A battle that would put an end to the reign of perhaps one of the greatest kings the country of Britain had seen and would ever see, one who had crushed the tyrant that terrorised and oppressed his own people, his own land, inviting barbarians from across the seas to wreak havoc, rape and plunder as they saw fit to maintain his pathetic excuse of a rule.

The battle that would put an end to the tale of the King who pulled the sword from the stone, King Arthur Pendragon who ruled from Camelot, led a legion of knights and protected his land against any and all foreign threats, bringing it peace and prosperity.. The king hailed as a dragon in the form of a man, the ideal and perfect ruler.

It wasn't as if this battle had just happened one day; however, no, a series of events had led to what had now become of this once beautiful land.

For every battle that King Arthur won, for every foe he vanquished, for every man he felled, the king of legend gained what could be called respect but also the ire of the people, for being TOO perfect.. They didn't want a ruler that was ideal even if this ruler had killed off his own emotions in order to be so for them and had sought nothing but their progress and betterment.

The Round Table of Knights slowly but surely saw all it's members, each a knight of legend, drift away from the King.. for different reasons, they abandoned their king but he didn't blame them, understanding their reasons for doing so.

His wife, the Queen Guinevere fell in love with one of his most loyal knights, Sir Lancelot.. Only one tragedy among many that had occurred throughout his rule.

In the end however, it was his own bastard child, Mordred that would deliver the final blow.. Leading an army of rebels dissatisfied with such a rule...

That was how the story went at least.

Atop a hill that stood out even in such a battlefield, dotted with corpses that were nailed to the ground with their own weaponry, men that died battling one another or perhaps an entirely different for altogether, two individuals faced one another.

"Where is the King of Knights?!"

A massive sword tore through the flesh of a poorly armoured knight, slicing him apart as he offered not even a grunt of pain to his foe, dying in silence, "Where are you?!" The killer seemed oddly short, not that one would notice that through the thick metal armour covering 'his' form, the gender too was strangely intelligible through the muffled voice that came from 'his' horned helmet.

'He' lodged his sword into the ground and put both hands over it, breathing tiredly, exhausted from battle.

It was then that a shadow cast itself over the killer, and he looked up to see King Arthur staring down at him with a face deprived of any and all emotion, even amidst such death.. Wearing armour over a sort of blue dress, the legendary sword Excalibur in hand. His form wasn't masculine no, it could only be described as beautiful, with golden hair tied together with a blue ribbon.

"What now huh?!" The unnamed knight shouted in defiance, once more taking up his sword, "This is the end of your kingdom!" Sneering a bit, he continued, "Face the consequences of not recognising me as king!"

It was Mordred.. The Knight of Betrayal who put an end to Camelot.

The traitor gripped his sword tightly, hostility evident even if his face was hidden.

And, just as it seemed the two would clash.

"S...top.."

A haggard voice alarmed both King and son, bringing them out of their conflict if only for a moment, drawing both their gazes to the speaker...

A single knight, stumbled through the corpses only a short distance away.. using a dark spear as a crutch to walk, nearly falling over several times as he slowly made his way for the two with slow, weak steps.

"Haven..... Haven't you had enough yet?!"

One would think the two enemies would fight anyway, ignoring one fool who sought to stop a war that had taken countless lives now that they were so close to putting an end to it BUT that wasn't the case..

For the first time since the start, a hint of surprise crossed the King's face, making him falter in the face of something for the first time in a long time..

"W...Why are.... Why are you here?!" Mordred shouted at him, diverting his attention entirely.., "I.. told those bastards to keep you away! No....SHIT!" He kicked at the ground in a state of shock, taken aback entirely his sword almost fell from his hand, "You weren't supposed to be here!"

"Sir Aston.." King Arthur stared at his loyal knight in silence, utterly confused, "Were you not elsewhere?"

"Hah..." The knight, Aston, almost laughed but failed miserably and ended up coughing blood, wincing in pain, "Placing me at... the b-back...." He smiled under his helmet, "You'll... have to d-do more, my king..."

"You have done enough.." A rare trace of emotion appeared in the voice of King Arthur, perhaps because he was tired after the long bloody battle or simply done.... The King didn't know what to feel...

Aston, a man with no last name.... He was rowdy but often cheerful yet conflictingly serious as of late... His dark armour was cracked in numerous places, completely shattered in others... The cloak that covered one side of his body was torn.

One of his arms hung loosely at his side, blood flowing freely from the open wounds... Arrows stuck out from his body, having pierced through his armour and he trembled in pain yet still stood tall... Some parts of his helmet had broken away, revealing short originally red hair that had long lost it's colour..

"I...I am sorry, my King.." His breath hitched and his back hunched over, no longer able to stand upright..., "M..Mordred, you too.." He'd failed his duties, let such a tragedy pass and so many die.. He was a failure of a man.

"Goddamn it stop!" Mordred in question shouted at him, 'his' voice pained as 'he' placed a hand over his chest, unable to understand this sudden pain, "This isn't.. This wasn't supposed to happen..." He'd specifically ordered for Aston to be spared, only captured and locked and that where he went wrong, "I told them to take you away!"

"...You made a mistake, Sir Mordred.." King Arthur addressed the traitor with cold eyes, "Putting an army in his path would never stop him, you should have known that.." The King could surmise what had occurred with a calm mind, he had probably fought through the enemy ranks with reckless abandon, attempting to reach he-him.. That was just the way Aston was, he was loyal even when he didn't need to be, "Sir Aston, you have not failed any this day."

"Y...Damn brat... I th..-ought I taught you better..." Aston addressed Mordred with a haggard yet noticeably sad voice, he had known things would happen this way and as such did his utmost to make sure the 'girl', yes girl, took a different path..., "I... didn't want to believe it y-you know?" He smiled, a bloody smile thanks to the blood he'd lost and the coughed blood once again...

"Teach I...." Frustrated, Mordred directed HER anger at King Arthur, her face twitching uncontrollably, "This is your fucking fault! Arthur!" If he'd accepted her as king, if he'd accepted her as his offspring, this wouldn't have happened! None of it! No one would have died!

"Silence, not another word..." King Arthur silenced her sternly, gazing intensely at the slowly dying Aston... He could feel it, the life slowly seeping away from his bright blue eyes even if they were hidden under a helmet.

"M...My King...a request. Ask Bedi to remove my name... from a-all books.."

"It will be done, Sir Aston.. And, you have my gratitude.... I am... sorry."

Aston had stopped talking further... standing with the help of his spear..

Moments passed in silence.

There was, after all, only so much blood a man could lose.

"Teach...Oi..." With wide eyes Mordred spoke in a desperate tone, running over to the silent knight only to be stopped by Excalibur being thrown at the ground in front of her, "What do you fucking want now?! What do you.. want?"

"You will not disturb his rest." King Arthur appeared in front of the knight, holding a massive light spear in his hand, a single tear slid down his cheek as feelings the king had long discarded slipped through...

"You... you don't get it.." Mordred took up her sword...., "We were supposed to, supposed to.. he was to be my..right hand..." The vigour she'd shown before was nowhere to be seen, instead it was weakness that was soon replaced by rage, "Do you hate me that much?! What did I ever do to you?!"

"Move, Arthur!"

"I will not."

And so, the two clashed as was history...

Over something that man would never come to know, moved by an individual lost to history.

=

Some of you probably like it, some of you don't. Give feedback anyway so I can decide on posting more.