Town and Citadel of Camelot, Sunday Evening
It had been several days' walk getting here, with precious little chance to get anywhere near where anyone held horses. And Arthur hadn't had too much coin on him regardless - the villagers might have lended him a horse based by his identity alone if he'd gotten close enough, but he had mixed feelings about taking from the poorer towns along the
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There was a flurry of movement, a quick shifting of the patterns in the crowd: knights pushed through, and at the front of them, a single man.
"Arthur."
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Arthur's head veered up.
For a moment, a short moment, he simply stared, taking in his father's features. A part of him pointed out, morbidly, that the last time he looked upon that countenance it had been grey and cold with death. Shilo's father, his--
"Father," he said. His lips felt dry.
There was silence between them then, neither party particularly good with emotional how-do-you-dos, their reunion too unannounced and unprepared.
Thankfully, there was a crisis at hand.
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"How fare the creatures outside?"
This was the first thing he said. The second was not so much words, as a quick darting of his eyes to the place where blood seeped sluggishly through the bandage on Arthur's chest.
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Uther's eyes flicked back up at Arthur's face.
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"I'm sealing the Citadel," he said, making a decision in an instant.
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He'd seen bodies outside, yes. But he had also seen living stragglers, hiding away and running from these creatures flying about outside.
"You can't," he said, and he would have winced at the plea in his voice if he hadn't seen their terrified faces.
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And there he was, acknowledging it. Which would have to be it.
"--but you'll understand that I have no choice. I have to protect those who have a chance. If I don't, we will all fall."
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Protect those who have a chance. That simply meant Arthur would have to give them a chance.
He did not meet his father's eyes as he got up, out of the hands of the healer and the maid - what was her name again? - and tried not to flinch as it put tension back on his wound.
He heard his father question him-- "Where are you going?"-- but he didn't let it stop his path.
"There are people," Arthur shot back, straightening his shoulders and groping around for his sword, "Trapped by the drawbridge. I am not leaving them to die."
He turned, despite his father's loud protestations, and headed for the door.
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Uther reached out for Arthur's shoulder. Surely, the boy would see sense-- "It's suicide!" he snapped.
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Arthur twisted around to face him. His father could ask many things of him; to leave innocent citizens out to suffer was not one of them. "It's my duty to Camelot," he snapped, and oh God, yes, it was. He was home. This was his. "And to myself!"
It had been too long, and he was not leaving his people out in the cold again.
He snarled a command at Sir Leon and Sir Gawain. They thankfully did not do themselves dishonour by lingering to welcome Arthur back, or to force him to return to safety. Instead, they surged onward, followed by several more knights, and shut the heavy doors behind them.
It was a scant ten minutes later when the knights returned with a dozen villagers, and Arthur nowhere to be seen.
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