Red

The deepest of crimson that clung to the world passing, painting it in haphazard splatters on the canvas of the earth.

The color of Camelot

The color of blood

The color of Arthur Pendragon

Even now Arthur could see the tattered flags of his kingdom giving a meek flutter in the wind that carried with it the final breath of the dying into the scarlet blanket above. Red was what covered the bodies of the knights that lay strewn in the fields beside him, eyes staring sightless to the red sky, mouths cracked open in a silent prayer, looking for a final redemption before they slipped into the void. Red was the color that faded from their lips and dripped down onto the ground to become one with the rich russet of the earth. Red was the color of their graves.

Green was the color of the grass against the red of the blood. The droplets clung to the blades like early morning dew, dripping thickly down the stalk to return to the earth where man had first come. Life continued in the feat of death. Arthur had never stopped to realize how green the grass was…even now as he was choking on his own blood he couldn't help but laugh bitterly at life.

Bitter yellow. Yellow of the fire that burned fire of the setting sun that faded to red and mocked the dying King. The air was getting thick as wet lungs spluttered and burned for air, a chill settled over him. But there was nothing but red, red, red.

Then there was blue.

A familiar blue

The blue of an individual that was held close to the heart

But held such sorrow and despair, regret in those eyes of a traitor

No, it was the sorrow of a friend.

Blue

And such a blue it was

Blue of the icy storm that came in the bitter-cold of winter,

A brilliant azure that held the knowledge of all things to come.

Blue like the rain that he felt his cheeks, the shower that tasted like sea foam.

Bitter. Salty.

Blue was the color of the feeling that gripped heart and red filled lungs, squeezing tightly it as he tried to grasp another breath.

Gold was the color of hope, of a final effort

Gold was a traitorous lie

But Blue

Glorious blue, wonderful blue was a promise

To remain by his side

Until the end

Red clasped onto Blue

Blue was the struggle for the last breath, to hold on for only a bit longer, to see the truer blue once again for what it was.

The world became grey

With the final words of Arthur Pendragon

The peaceful Grey-blue of the mountain tops in the morning.

Such a sad colour.

"Thank you, old friend."

His hand weakened

Grip was lost

Thoughts

Slipping

Into

Nothing

White.