The pain shot up fast, muddling Arthur’s thoughts in a mental soup of conflicting instructions, and paralyzing his body. Maybe he screamed, but he couldn’t recall that part, only pain. “Brother!” the cry was hoarse in his throat, and lost within the rage of the ocean, the thunders from up above — both the sea and the sky seemed to be mourning the King’s great fall. As the sea monster coiled around Arthur’s body, dragging him deep into the pit of a relentless whirlpool, he felt so inexplicably desperate. For his brother, his entire family, perhaps? For more time on land, or on the throne? More time to make things right…? But it was all only distant, wishful thinking — the inevitable failure of a greatly despised half-breed.