Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow
Title: Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow
Rating: R, mild. But this is the bulk of what warrants it. I didn’t want to sugarcoat the brutalities of battle.
Sorry for the bit of a wait again (though not as long as last time, lol). I still have that other fic I'm writing and it's been one of those weeks. Thanks for your patience.
Rest of my notes/disclaimer with the first part…
****
Three: Hell’s Face is Fear
Camelot was under siege.
A fierce battle was taking place within and outside.
Merlin had warned Arthur of Agravaine’s deceit and the plot his uncle had forged with Morgana and Helios to take Camelot using the highly secret, well contained layout of the kingdom’s entranceways. Arthur had quickly dismissed such warnings, but now the truth was brutally clear.
Spotting Merlin within the fighting fracas, trying to defend his king by clumsily swinging a sword he had found upon the ground nearby a fallen foe, Arthur called out to him as he sunk his blade into another, hearing his nemesis’s dull cry before he fell to the stone floor.
“Merlin, find Gaius and get him out of here!” Arthur didn’t want the servant going alone. He noticed on his left-hand side one of Camelot’s most trusted knights, a man of great character and strength, assisting in the fight. “Leon, go with, protect them!”
Leon took the enemy at his pulse, sinking the blade into his flesh before he pulled it out with ruthless expertise.
Merlin protested Arthur’s order, managing to bring down a man with his borrowed sword’s blade and a tad of magical help, the latter secretly. “You’re my king! I’m not leaving you!”
It was a truthful enough statement even if there was some edge to it. Their friendship had been frayed since Arthur banished Gwen. Merlin was upset about the manner in which she was sent away and that Arthur had been treating him quite shoddily since.
Merlin actually got to see Gwen again just recently after Arthur and Mithian’s hunting trip. Morgana enchanted Gwen to look like the deer and so Mithian accidentally hit her. That night Merlin secretly went back to the forest to help his friend. The next morning Gwen told him about Agravaine and Morgana’s plans. When Merlin tried to get Gwen to come back to Camelot she negated it so he suggested that instead she could go to Ealdor.
Merlin still wasn’t sure if she had.
As for the planned attack, even without mentioning Gwen’s name, Arthur hadn’t believed it and so now the kingdom was paying the price.
Yet even within all that, Merlin still considered Arthur the true king, and cared about his safety.
After all, they were supposed to be the two sides of a coin.
Arthur countered his servant’s stubbornness. “That’s an order Merlin!” It didn’t work. Breathing heavily, Arthur used sense to argue his point as he continued to use his physical prowess to wield his sword against Camelot’s enemies. “Merlin, Gaius is elderly, not strong enough to deal with this kind of fight. He could be killed, you see that, yes Merlin? You have to take him away from here.”
Leon regrettably agreed, backing up to the hallway so they could head up the steps to save the physician. “Come on Merlin.”
Merlin was brutally torn. His loyalty should be to his king, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Gaius falling in this battle.
Neither could Arthur. Gaius had cared for him since he was born and Merlin was a trustworthy friend.
“Go. Both of you. Now.” He grunted out.
With sharp precision of timing Percival was backing into the room now, wielding his sword against another of their adversaries. Hearing the tail end of the conversation, he reassured Leon. “Go on, I’ll stay with Arthur.”
To keep the king alive was imperative.
Leon pulled at Merlin’s arm, but the servant was hesitant.
“Arthur…”
“Gaius needs you Merlin. GO.”
Merlin showed his last bit of hesitation, gnawing at his bottom lip unhappily, before he fiercely rushed against Arthur’s side. He whispered into his ear so it wouldn’t be overheard, “Ealdor. Go with Percival and the others to Ealdor. We’ll meet you again there.”
Arthur nodded before he killed another, Merlin moving away from the direction of his blade with rapid response. Then the servant rejoined Leon.
As the two departed the room, Arthur continued wielding his sword with Percival nearby, wondering for a quick second where Morgana and Agravaine were hiding, or striking next.
***
Everything was in chaos.
The strong smell of burning fires irritated his nose. Bodies littered the hallways, those of the enemy and those draped in red cloaks, knights and guards of Camelot. They had tried to get most of the civilians out that had been at the banquet, but Arthur wasn’t sure about those on the outside, the workforce and villager farmers who had not attended. As he slashed at another nemesis, he grunted with memory. There was something vitally important he needed to get. He darted his eyes around the room filled with the sight and noise of metal upon metal , and every once in a while, screams of dying men. In a corner he spotted Gwaine assisting Percival, the pair of knights fiercely fighting back to back.
As he watched them, a man came at him, thinking that he was too distracted to notice, a foolish mistake he’d pay for with his life. Arthur grew up with threats regularly, making him always alert. So as the man grinned, he flicked his wrist and sent the blade of his sword straight into the man’s gut. Then pulling it out, Arthur jumped over the barrier of the falling body, moving swiftly toward the room’s exit.
Closer to the edge of the hallway now, he cautiously sought the steps, getting past Percival and Gwaine without them noticing.
Arthur took the steps two at a time, carefully checking around each landing until he came to the right one. The quiet made him feel edgy. Cautiously he kept his sword out, ready for potential enemies to strike. Moving through the long hallway, he took a glance outside one of the tall windows, seeing movement down upon the ground that reassured him. Leon and Merlin were leading Gaius out. They should be safe now, soon on their way to Ealdor.
Arthur stepped down the hallway swiftly. Again no one stopped him so he reached his chambers without incident.
Stepping into the front bedroom, he felt an injury he received downstairs give complaint. Sagging slightly against his bedpost, Arthur noticed an irritation of blood on the underside of his ribs. He ignored the hurt, focused on his purpose, finding the piece of furniture where he kept the box.
Opening it up, he hastily pocketed the items as voices now came from around the corner. Arthur quickly dropped to his knees behind the bed.
“I want my dear brother found. And once he is, bring him to me alive. Understood?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Good.”
“The people are not heeding.”
“Then make them listen. Give no quarter. Kill a few as example. That will send them into shivers of fear. Plus once we have the fallen king, they’ll heed even better. Watching their oh so strong leader bow at my feet, they’ll have no choice but to give in. And then when we have their total loyalty…
We’ll kill their precious king.”
Arthur concealed a gasp with his hand, pushing his palm so tightly against his mouth he scratched his inner bottom lip into a shallow bleed.
She would murder innocent people.
For a year of his life he searched for Morgana when she was taken, felt such joy when he found her. How could she do this? It was more than physical weariness weighing him down now. Emotionally he was devastated. When had Morgana, his half-sister by blood, become so vile?
Why did she hate him so?
Morgana and her followers finally departed the room, definitely not giving thought to that the king would be hiding within it.
Arthur wasted no time in relief, simply looked around the room, until he spotted it past the curtains.
No one, but he and his father ever knew about it, not even Merlin or Morgana.
Only as a young naïve boy had he dared to use it, until getting caught red handed by his father.
Arthur moved now to the secret door, seemingly a part of the stone wall. Feeling around its edges, he touched the barely tangible handle.
When Morgause and her immortal army attacked Camelot he knew it would be folly to use this door then. It led to an open passage that could have resulted in death by the immortals. Now, although Helios’s army was strong, they were not immortal. If the open passage led him to adversaries on the other side, he could at least fight back.
Arthur opened the secret door, before shutting it firmly behind him. Then he ran down the hidden case of steps. Reaching the bottom, he carefully slid open the second door, finding himself one of luck so far. The open passage was vacant. He shut the second door just like he had the first behind him. After he did, it appeared to be nothing more than a stone section of the castle’s many towers.
The precise tower he now stood upon was quite high, with serrated barbs along the sides. As a boy, before being found by his father, he would use a rope, enjoying the thrill of navigating downward to adolescent freedom.
Against Morgause’s immortal army though, trying then to find a way to get his father out of the castle, he negated the idea, reasoning twofold. First, it would have given its surreptitious existence away to Morgana and Merlin. And secondly, his father in his unconscious state would not have been able to avoid the serrated barbs of the towers, and could have been killed. Thus, it was safest to use the window then.
Outside now, he could feel the force of the wind and smell the burning fires below. From the tower adjacent to the castle’s interior he could hear the murmur of voices. It was hard to reenter the castle from his current position, but easy enough to listen to a conversation. He pinpointed one of the voices quickly, Agravaine.
Arthur hid behind the column.
“Any that are still alive, put in the dungeons. I’m betting that most of the knights will fight to their death. They’re incredibly loyal to their king. Keep the fires burning so the people are corralled into one area. Do not destroy the castle though. It is well made, the one thing that cretin Uther kept in check. And most importantly, find my nephew. Bring him to the new queen.”
Arthur wanted to shred the life out of his uncle for what he had done, but then then he started to hear them, the screams.
They were coming from the citadel, the marketplace and areas beyond. Arthur carefully moved away from the column as another wrenching scream pierced his ears. Raking the citadel and surrounding parts below, he spotted the thick tendrils of rising fire blocking people’s paths and the glint of metal that was being taken away from a person’s flailing body.
They were doing it, murdering citizens.
His small comfort was that it shouldn’t be many. Morgana had to know how foolish it would be to conduct mass killings. Trying to start a new rule in such a barbaric way wouldn’t help the people come to her side.
Further away he noticed the bright red of his men, some dead upon the ground, others fighting against the Southron army. But here in this area especially, it seemed there were few of Camelot’s military and that most were laid on the cobbles of stone, lifeless.
The agonized screams were too much to take. As king, caretaker of his people, Arthur knew he had to do something. He had no rope though like he had used when he was a boy, and so he would have to jump from his post.
Arthur inhaled a deep breath and slowly let it out, working to center his mind on just his task, paying little heed to the trickle of wet fear that slid down his back. The distance from the post he was holding, to the ground below, was dizzying. He steeled himself, understanding that it was imperative he leapt far enough away from the jagged spikes of the tower’s sides or it would be his death, a dark thought he didn’t want to dwell on for long.
Arthur drew one of his hands away from the post, taking another glance at what was below him before removing his other hand too, making the jump.
Suddenly flying through the void, he hoped it was enough of a gap or he’d soon be feeling those serrated barbs’ impalement.
***
The room was filled with vaporous billows of smoke from burnt out torches, and the fetid scent of death.
Bringing down an enemy invader, Percival looked around, suddenly noticing something within the hazy room that made his eyes widen. “Where is he?”
“Where’s who?” Gwaine grunted back, stabbing a man with his sword.
Percival wriggled closer to his friend and fellow knight, whispering it carefully.
“The Princess.”
It had sometimes been Gwaine’s teasing nickname for him, long before Arthur became king. It made Gwaine startle now, looking around frantically as he kept wary of the next invader. “Oh fie. He was just here.”
Percival nodded, slashing a man with his blade and then throwing him against the wall furiously before he could react. At his grand size, it really wasn’t all that hard, not to mention that having a lost king put him in an ill mood. Gwaine watched with raised brows before starting to back out, gesturing for Percival to follow. “Come on! Watch your back, and while you’re at it watch mine.”
Percival rolled his eyes inwardly. “And then?”
Gwaine grunted, feeling a man sink his blade into his side. He backhanded him viciously in retaliation. Aiding his fellow knight, Percival shoved the man so hard that the fellow banged his head solidly against the stone wall, before slumping lifelessly.
“Thanks.” Gwaine let out.
“Don’t mention it. And…so?”
“We’ll see if Elyan’s seen Ar-uh, the Princess.”
***
He cleanly avoided the serrated barbs, but his fast plunging descent couldn’t insure his landing.
As Arthur’s feet hit the ground with fierce dissonance, his body filled with pain, the wounded area near his ribs crying out, and his legs shrieking in protest. If it wasn’t for a market stand nearby that he gripped fervently with his fingers, he probably couldn’t have remained standing. At least he had yet to be noticed.
Letting out some deep breaths, getting back his equilibrium, Arthur let go of the market cart.
After taking a few steps, he was faced with a disturbing sight that made his stomach churn sickeningly.
Lain upon the stone ground, face forward, was a man with blonde whiffs of hair, grayed at the edges. He was a farmer Arthur recognized only by sight, having seen him before working ardently on his crops. Pushed into his back was a knife’s blade. Arthur’s vision burned hotly. Even if he didn’t know this man’s name, a hardworking individual didn’t deserve to die in such a cruel way.
Another look further on made him gasp in shock. No.
A memory twisted through his thoughts as he tried to deny what he was seeing. It couldn’t be.
Couldn’t…
Riding alongside each other, they were returning from a private picnic in the wood. As Arthur and Gwen neared the first gates, a young girl ran toward them.
“Gwen!”
Arthur brought his horse to a quick halt to avoid hitting the girl. She seemed no more than ten years old.
Gwen jumped down from hers, rushing to the girl with familiarity. Gently holding onto the girl’s arms, she asked, “What is it Sarya?”
The girl was breathing fast. Arthur moved down from his horse now too, approaching softly. Like Gwen he squatted down, removing his hood. Seeing who he was, the girl gasped, shivering with fright.
Gwen shook her head. “Oh no, don’t be scared.”
Arthur approached gently. “Guinevere is right. I am Arthur. Now what is the matter?”
Gwen gestured meaningfully. “It’s okay. You can tell him. He only wants to help.”
“But he’s the king.” Sarya insisted with clear distrust.
Arthur smiled gently. “That’s right I am. And that means Camelot and its people mean much to me. Now Sarya is your name, yes? What is upsetting you?”
The girl shook her head, not wanting to tell him. Gwen’s hand came to Arthur’s shoulder and she led him away for a moment. Arthur felt a tingle of irritation and even hurt. No one ever shunned him like this girl had.
Gwen explained calmly. “She was scared of your father. Sarya’s father is ill quite a bit, and while he could rule, your father used to put it off to laziness. I fear that’s what this has to do with now. Her father is ill again.”
Arthur grimaced. His father had his fallacies, but he had also been blamed for much that wasn’t his fault while he was king. “Why did he call him lazy then?”
Gwen seemed to hesitate.
“Come on, tell me.” Arthur insisted. “Look Guinevere, you may not see it, but I do, there are sometimes people who do not work as hard as they could.”
Gwen shook her head adamantly. “Not Sarya’s father. He never shirks responsibility. But when the illness strikes it sometimes forces him to days of bed-rest.
Don’t look at me so questioningly. Gaius has been treating him for years, but there’s no permanent remedy.”
“I wasn’t doubting you.”
“Were you not?” Gwen hotly asked.
Arthur sighed. “Alright, I was wrong. Okay? I’ve just heard so many complaints about my father, sometimes unfair ones.”
“Well this one is just. Sarya’s father works for Sir Reginald, a very distinguished knight, yes, but he is not very…patient.”
Arthur had to agree. All of his knights he had great respect for, but it was true that some could be harsher, and Sir Reginald was of the old, his father’s time. It was entirely possible he saw the illness as no more than an excuse to get out of work. “Okay, you’re right…on that.”
“Then maybe you understand better.”
Than his father? Arthur wondered. She didn’t speak his name, but he guessed that was what she was hinting at.
Gwen clasped one of Arthur’s hands with patience and a touch of regret. “I’m sorry. I know you would never try to scare her, but Sarya does not see it as I do. She is uncomfortable with those of your status. Let me talk to her alone.”
“Fine.” Arthur quietly relented with a pout of his lips, but then he grabbed Gwen’s hand before she could step away. “I want to help, Guinevere. If he’s being treated by Gaius then this disease is real.”
“Of course it is. If you saw him you’d see that right away.”
Arthur sighed heavily. He felt restless, wanting to do something, but Guinevere made it clear, the girl did not like his kind. She held no trust in him. Finally he relented. “Go on. Talk to her. I’ll stand back, keep the horses with me.”
Gwen smiled gratefully, touching his cheek. “Thank you.”
Arthur just nodded as she moved back to the girl. He listened in to bits of the conversation, learning that Sir Reginald definitely didn’t want Sarya’s father to be his servant anymore. Arthur could understand Sir Reginald’s aggravation with how the work was not getting done well enough, but too he felt for Sarya’s father. To be without work would put their family at a great disadvantage. And work was a man’s pride. To put food upon your family’s table was an honor. To be without it could further along her father’s disease. Gazing upon the tearful girl’s face Arthur couldn’t stand it.
There had to be something he could do…
And then it came to him.
Bringing his horse, Arthur walked back to Sarya and Gwen. In his pocket were pieces of a carrot that he usually carried when riding.
“Do you like horses, Sarya?” He asked softly.
Gwen looked back at him with a frown, but Arthur kept his eyes on the girl, determined. She backed up against Gwen, making him hold back his exasperated sigh. Bending his knees, Arthur brought the carrot pieces out, his palm flat, held in the same way he would do with a skittish animal.
“Here, why don’t you feed him? He goes by the name Fire’s Blade, as he has a bit of all that in him. Take the carrot and just lay your hand flat like I am now. He knows what to do then.” He told her with a reassuring smile.
As the girl still didn’t move from Gwen’s side Arthur frowned with frustration. He looked up to her, almost pleading. Gwen smiled caringly, holding Sarya back to get her attention.
“It’s okay. Really, Sarya. Arthur is a kind goodhearted king. He won’t hurt you. And when will you ever get a chance again to feed a horse of a noble, right? Go on now.” She pushed the girl forward gently.
Sarya bit at her lip. Seeing it, Arthur smiled even more kindly, not moving toward her at all, just keeping the food for the horse flat out in his palm. As the girl finally approached, he said nothing, just let her take it from him.
Quickly Sarya snatched it into her hand, but to his stallion she stepped up quite bravely. Arthur could see it quickly. Indeed she loved horses.
Soon she was so taken by Fire’s Blade and enjoying feeding him so much, that she seemed more relaxed.
Gwen stepped up to Arthur with a small grateful smile. “Well, you helped with her tears. She’s taken by the horse now. But that won’t help her father unfortunately.”
Arthur smiled with purpose. “I have a plan for that too.”
As Sarya continued to feed the horse, so comfortable with it now she’d pretty much forgotten the king’s presence, Arthur moved alongside, talking softly to not startle her. “I know of a young knight named Sir Paul who is needing of a bit of help, just a bit mind you. Sarya do you think your father would like to work for him? I think it would be a good match. Sir Paul will be so grateful for your father’s service.”
Not looking at him, still not fully settled with the king, though grateful for the chance to feed his horse, the girl whispered, “But sometimes Papa is too ill to work.”
“Oh that’s alright. You see…” He whispered, “Sir Paul likes to get a lot done himself, but too he is quite awful at tending to gardens. Your father can return just in time to make sure the plants recover from his over-watering. Now don’t you think that’s the perfect deal?”
The girl turned away from the horse, finally bravely facing the king who was bent to her level, smiling ever so gently. “Why would you do that for my Papa?”
There was a tear strolling down her cheek. Arthur fought to keep his emotions in check, stating honestly, “Because I am his king, and as King I make sure that the people of this land, as long as they are ready to rise to their duty like I do mine, are taken well care of. And because I would like you to trust me more Sarya. Now what do you say? Should we go talk to your Papa about this?”
“What if Sir Paul doesn’t like him?”
Arthur shook his head firmly. “I’ve known him for years. Don’t worry on that. He’ll like him.”
He brought out his hand tentatively, never needing acceptance so much as he did now from this young girl. “How about it?”
He didn’t want to be feared.
Sarya looked down at his hand, unthreatening, then up to his face, kind. She placed her small hand into his larger one. Arthur clasped it gently, thinking how much smoother it was than his callused one. Then standing up, keeping hold of the girl’s hand, he felt it like a brush of warm wind upon his cheek.
Gwen’s lips moved away as he asked her curiously, “What was that for?”
Taking Sarya’s other hand she whispered over the girl’s head, “Because I love you, and because you showed yourself just now to be the caring king I always knew you’d be.”
The memory faded, Arthur searching the pillaged area desperately with his blue blazing eyes.
Heaven, where was she?
He wondered anxiously, because down upon the ground of an opened cattle stall was Sir Paul, dead, eyes wide open to whatever horror befell him. A line of blood trickled from his mouth, signaling that he was killed in a way that led to internal injury. More blood lined his chest. He must have been stabbed. Arthur tried to blink away the returned burning of his eyes, getting out roughly, “Savages.”
A bit beyond Arthur saw the parents lying similarly, but where was Sarya?
Clutching his jaw, Arthur moved over to her parents, hoping that it wasn’t the worst. He dropped down to his knees, feeling it from each. “There’s a pulse.” It was the most reassuring thing he found since making his jump. They were alive. The problem was they were out in the open, and still no sign of Sarya. He had to find her and he had to get her parents somewhere safer. Arthur scanned the area, spotting another market cart with a pair of boots poking out from behind. They looked the size of a child’s. Stepping away from the unconscious parents, Arthur stopped at the cart, holding his sword out in case he was wrong about it being a child.
“Come out from there.” He ordered quietly.
No answer, no movement, Arthur added, almost certain now it was a child. “Come on. Don’t be frightened.”
Finally a face showed from behind the cart, dirtied and soot stained, “Sarya.” Arthur breathed.
Shakily she asked, “King Arthur?”
He nodded, lowering his hand to her. “Yes. Come here. It’s alright.”
It must have been the horror of the war because she actually rushed to him now, fingers clinging to his chainmail. “Mama and Papa are dead.” She stated with trembling lips.
Arthur shook his head strongly, arms gently wrapped around the girl. Before he could counter, she frantically related, “Sir Paul is too. He told me to run away and hide, turn away from them and not come out.”
Arthur let out a painful sigh. That was why she had been behind the cart. Sir Paul wanted to not only save her physically, but keep her from seeing anything awful. It was he too Arthur surmised who had protected her parents, sacrificing himself.
The match between Sir Paul and her family was a perfect one. They regularly invited him to dinner and he taught Sarya how to ride a horse. Plus each time her father grew ill, Sir Paul did just what Arthur suggested he would. He took over his house duties himself and checked with Gaius to make sure that the family was doing alright, the kindest knight ever really, and now he was gone.
“Fie.” Arthur hissed out over Sarya’s head, but then he faced her definitively. “Sarya, your mama and papa are alive. They’re hurt, yet breathing. You are right about Sir Paul though.”
Her eyes filled with tears, gratefulness, fear, and the pain of losing a friend, too many tangled emotions, Arthur thought. Once she had been so afraid of him. Now he could feel the girl not wanting to let him go. Gently he brushed away the windswept hair from her eyes, starting to fret. It had been merely moments since he jumped. Soon enough he’d be noticed.
Oh, his Camelot looked nothing more now like the gates of hell except for the still perfectly standing castle at its center. Bodies all around. Fires burning. Screams and whimpers. The stain of blood upon the streets. His beautiful home, ravaged, raped.
Arthur turned away from it, focusing again on Sarya, bringing his palms out to her shoulders, gently gripping them with his fingers. “I know this is frightening, Sarya. But I need you to be brave, okay? You showed such courage when you fed Fire’s Blade. I need you to show that same courage now.”
She was sobbing, but she bit at her bottom lip, giving a shaky nod of her head. “Okay.”
Arthur smiled slightly, coughing as a tendril of smoke blew their way. “Very good.” He did a quick search, finding a bit of the marketplace that was not touched at all. He could put them there, pray that it would be safe. But first he had to take care of his attire. Dressed in his ceremonial red and marked armor he was too obvious. If they realized he was the king they’d take him and then he could never help Sarya. So even though the metal and chainmail would be his greatest physical protection, Arthur pulled it all away now to conceal his identity. He didn’t stop until he was wearing nothing more on his upper body than the pale ash tunic Guinevere cleaned for him.
Sarya stared. Arthur whispered to her rapidly as he pulled her hand, leaving the marked clothing underneath a fallen market stand. “Come on. I don’t want them to know who I am.” He moved behind another abandoned cart, gesturing to the ground. “Stay on your knees and hide here Sarya. I ’m going to move your mama and papa to somewhere safer, alright?”
She followed his instructions right away, concealing herself behind the cart. Arthur was grateful that growing up a royal you learned quickly how to give command to get people to listen.
As Sarya hid, Arthur ran back to the opened stall. There was a building nearby. He’d hide them behind it, within the columns of stone. Arthur hefted each, one at time over his shoulder.
As he was returning to Sarya, he realized his blunder. Camelot guard would never attack a child. They’d be stripped of their uniform for such heinous action. But Helios’s men seemed to follow little conduct, for now one of them was suddenly standing behind the unsuspecting Sarya, raising his blade threateningly. Arthur leapt to action, whipping out his sword with fierce efficiency and letting out a guttural cry.
“AAAHH!”
As the man foolishly turned around, Arthur drove his blade straight into his heart. Sarya shrieked, jumping away. Arthur’s cut was clean. The lifeless man started to fall. Arthur grabbed Sarya’s hand, pulling her away just in time.
His warning cry brought him to attention quickly. Soon others of the army were there to avenge the death of one of their own. Finding Arthur in nothing but his pale ash tunic, they saw him as no threat. As the bulk of Camelot’s Guard was fighting in other areas at the moment, he had the disadvantage of no assistance.
Yet, he was raised to be a warrior and was a cunning swordfighter. Whipping around to face his foes, Arthur stiffened his arm downward in front of Sarya protectively. “Stay behind me!” He called out to her before lifting his blade to one of his attackers. Even with his training, it soon proved to be a grave challenge, keeping Sarya safe while having no body protection, and a too busied mind.
His adversary thus found leverage to counter Arthur’s impressive fighting skills. His blade slashed into the area directly above Arthur’s breast making him cry out with anguish. Almost falling to his knees from the shock of pain, blood leaking from the new wound, Arthur used his anger to drive his blade into the man’s stomach, killing him.
He darted his eyes to Sarya who was struggling to stay out of the fray as more of the Southron army came at him. He fought the first ones off, achieving a lull in the fighting that allowed him to finally catch his breath after that bad cut, but it wouldn’t last long.
Voices came from further away, one of them Helios, yelling at some of his men, getting them back into order. Just a little past him he could see Morgana too, firmly commanding that the killings stop and that the hunt begin for the king. Arthur watched cautiously as Morgana started ending some of the smaller fires with what looked like magic, flames just suddenly disappearing.
He couldn’t afford to be caught. His sword expertise would be no match against Morgana’s powers of malevolent sorcery.
Arthur took notice of the burning stable stalls across from where Morgana and Helios were. Some of the horses were starting to flee. Spotting a running mare, who he knew to be gentle, Arthur quickly waved with his arms to get her to stop. As she did, he grasped tightly to her mane. “Easy there, easy.” He did his best to cool her frightened temper. Then he turned backward.
“Sarya.” Arthur grabbed the girl’s arm, getting her to come in closer. He looked up at the mare with a grimace. She had no saddle on, no riding gear, nothing. It would have to do.
“Sarya, get on her.”
The girl looked up at the king with shock, but before she could say a word about his injury or anything else, he countered.
“No. Listen to me. She’s gentle and you’ve proved you’re good with horses. Sir Paul even gave you riding lessons. You can hold onto her mane and she’ll lead you out.” He pointed to the open and hazardous woodland. He had no other choice. Morgana and Helios seemed to be ceasing the killings, but now especially Sarya was vulnerable. She knew the whereabouts of the king. Arthur had no idea what kind of spells Morgana could use on the girl. He had to get her out of the kingdom.
“I can’t leave Mama and Papa.” The girl told him frightfully. His grasp tight on the mare’s mane, Arthur nodded rapidly. They didn’t have much time before Morgana might spot him or if not that, more of Helios’s men forced him to fight. “It’s okay. They’re alive. Remember that.”
Just a bit of distance away he could tell her house was in flames. He tried not to concentrate on it. The house could be rebuilt, not her life if she was captured. Reaching down, Arthur grasped the girl by the waist, lifting her up until she was astride the mare. Taking hold of her hands, he instructed. “Hold her right here.” He darted his eyes. Another group of men were coming after him. “You understand?”
The frightened girl nodded her head. Arthur tried to calm her nerves. “If you hold on tight you’ll be fine. Remember everything Sir Paul taught you. She’s a good one. He inched upward, whispering in her ear. “Go to the east. Go to Ealdor. Direct her that way. You’ll find it. I know you will. She’s been there before.”
She had. The first visit, Arthur recalled with a touch of pained sentimental thought, Guinevere rode her.
The girl’s brow wrinkled. “But what about you K-
He shook his head strongly before she could continue, bringing his hand up to silence her. “No. I’ll be fine. Now GO Sarya! Give her a kick and get out of here!”
She hesitated for a second, probably not sure about leaving home, but as he got ready to shout his command again, Sarya nodded her head, giving a kick that sent the mare on the move. She headed straight toward the gates. As Arthur sighed with relief he felt eyes upon him. He turned just fractionally, regretting it after he did.
Morgana.
From the distance she was watching him with heated interest. As their eyes met for a quick second he saw something in her expression change. Fie. Just as it happened, a man of the army, not yet instructed to stop killing, came at him. Arthur brought out his sword to defend himself, looking to Sarya, seeing that she was just getting to the woodland. The man too now looked her way, an evil glint forming in his eye.
“NO!” Arthur yelled. The man had no morals. He’d go after the girl and kill her. Arthur purposely picked a fight with the man, his mind flashing to Merlin, how sometimes his loud idiocy actually worked, and so now Arthur yelled out ugly insults. Soon his nemesis was fighting him, for the time being forgetting about the girl. After a few strikes, Arthur caught him in a vulnerable spot. He delivered a hard swipe to the man’s shoulder. As the man nursed it, Arthur whipped around, finding another horse running by. The same way he stopped the mare, he ceased this one’s movement, speaking calmly as he saw the horse’s nostrils and eyes flaring with tension. Across the way he heard the command, coming just a bit closer now. She indeed had recognized him, and now gave the order.
“GET HIM! Capture Arthur and bring him back to me. NOW.”
Arthur glanced back and forth between the two, weighing each issue. On the far side he had a faction of Helios’s men in hot pursuit, ready to capture the fallen king for the new queen. On the side closest he had the foe he’d been fighting who now wanted to go after Sarya . If he caught her she’d die. Arthur felt he had no choice. He had to get out of Camelot now.
Grabbing the horse’s mane, sword sheathed, Arthur was too distracted to realize that his foe had finished nursing his wound. As he started to climb atop the horse’s back, the foe stalked to his side, bringing his sword out with furious intent. The moment Arthur grasped the horse’s mane, his nemesis directed the blade of his sword upward and shoved it into his vulnerable flesh, just missing piercing his heart, but doing grave enough damage.
Arthur screamed.
It was like an explosion, his upper body erupting into serrations of hot pain. Hands bitterly shaking, Arthur reached up, grasping the blunt edge of the sword and twisting it away from his bleeding upper body. His tunic ripped shrilly, his flesh bubbling with anguish. Tears burned in Arthur’s eyes, his breath choked. All he could do was use the minor advantage of being seated upon the horse. Arthur pulled on the stallion’s mane and gave it as much a kick he could muster, sending it into a wild gallop away from Camelot.
***
“Oh no.”
Percival muttered before feeling Gwaine strongly pulling him back behind a column. Just a few feet away from them at the southern side of the castle was a band of Helios’s men and Agravaine locking Elyan into shackles.
“We have to help him.” Percival muttered with feeling. After over a year now of fighting together, all the knights Arthur had brought into service during Morgana’s first attack were close as they, and Leon, were the ones the king mostly brought with him on excursions out of Camelot.
Gwaine shook his head. “What, and get captured too?”
“But-
Gwaine, the silly knight, took command, using his sense, to argue the strong point. “Percival, I’m as twisted up about this as you, but Elyan’s strong. He knows what to do. We still have to find the king.”
Percival hated it, knew that Gwaine probably didn’t like it much more either. Finding Arthur was crucial to the kingdom’s peaceful continuance. “Right. Come on.”
They backed away from the columns, leaving Elyan to his fate.
***
Away now from Camelot, the forest was dark and riddled with barriers. Arthur had only been riding for a few fast moments, but already was being faced with many obstacles. His vision was not very good as the tears kept forming in his eyes from the pain of his wounds, his body slick with sweat and the shine of blood. His hands kept losing their endeavor to hold tight to the horse’s mane. After a fifth time of them sliding off, Arthur leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the sloppy neck instead and keeping his head lowered. The horse, riddled with perspiration and wearing no bridle or saddle, provided feeble support at best.
“Mgggmmm…” Arthur moaned with rawness. It hurt so much every time his chest hit against the horse’s flank, causing further abrasions to already inflicted areas.
It was just a murmur of sound, but he could swear the foe who had thought of going after Sarya was thoroughly chasing him now on horseback. Arthur had led him in the opposite direction she had gone, but honestly he was losing sight of his own whereabouts right now. All he could tell for sure was that his fast ride was taking him further away from Camelot, a fact he didn’t like at all. The familiar forest that he usually knew so well now felt like a twisting mind-bending labyrinth.
His chest smacked against the horse’s flank again, making Arthur grunt in misery. “Aahhh…”
He couldn’t continue like this. His skin felt hot, clammy, and where he was injured dense patches of blood shined foully. It had to be far enough away that Sarya would be safe. There was no other choice for if his body kept slamming into the horse’s, more wounds would be ripped open. It put him in grave peril, but maybe it could be seen as the lesser evil. He had to slow down the horse to keep from hurting his chest more, and to keep the horse from taking a tumble.
Lifting his head just enough to get his cheek bolstered by its neck, Arthur pulled at the horse’s mane, getting the animal to slow. His seating had been losing bolster for a while now, and as he slowed it got even worse. Body oils from the horse combined with his own sweat and blood flow helped none. Even as he tried to tangle his grimy fingers into the horse’s hairs, he felt his grip slackening, his body leaning hazardously to the side. As the horse jumped over a bramble of brush, his fall began and so fervently injured, he was helpless to prevent it.
Arthur’s battered body slid away from the horse’s sweating flank and then tumbled to the side. He hit the ground with a heavy thud, rolling without control upon its coarseness.
***
Gwaine and Percival carefully made their way through the castle, the bulk of it now taken by Helios’s army and so they had to cautiously keep out of sight. As they made their way past the now empty kitchens, they heard voices coming from down the stairs. Gwaine whispered to Percival, “Morgana.” They hid within one of the tall stone arches, listening in.
“Your men should be better minded.”
“It’s been a brutal fight Morgana. And you gave the order to kill civilians, make examples.”
“That didn’t mean they had permission to end the lives of so many and destroy a multitude of homes. If we want the people to mind us, we must have some of their respect. Plain fear will not work, nor will hatred. Make sure in the future they refrain from such recklessness. I’ve already had to put a temporary physician in place for the ones who were injured.”
“We could simply let them die if their wounds are that bad.”
“No. And once again you fail to understand. Having no care for them at all will lead to anarchy. I want the people’s trust. Fear will be part of it, but not everything.”
“Understood.”
There was a long pause.
“So…he got away.”
“Yes, but my men are in pursuit now. Those closest to the gate said he looked like he was bleeding heavily and that another of my men was pursuing him.”
“I want him found. Already his servant has disappeared.”
“What would he matter anyway if he’s nothing but a servant?”
“Oh Helios, this is not just any servant. His loyalty to Arthur is almost sickening, which could be used to our advantage. I just hope Emrys doesn’t come. I’ve had visions that he would try to end our rule.”
“Who is Emrys?”
“Never mind. You said he was bleeding heavily?”
“That’s what a few of my men said.”
“And yet they failed to catch him.”
“He was riding fast. They caught no more than a blur. And he was in simple clothing, dirtied, not so easily recognizable.”
“I suppose I can’t blame them for that. A great distance separated us when I first saw him and with what he was wearing I didn’t identify him either, not until he turned to face me. No matter. If he’s so gravely injured he won’t get far, not alone.”
“Right. I’m sure my men will be back with him soon, that he’ll have no choice, but to give up.”
“Oh now don’t underestimate him. He rode out of Camelot and to do that, he must have had a strong reason. The Arthur Pendragon I know would never leave his kingdom while it was under attack. He’d rather stay and die on the battlefield. Make no mistake of it. Something impelled him to leave. And so it’s possible that could be used against him.”
“Once he is captured.”
“Yes. And be sure of it that he IS, Helios.”
There was a long drawn out sigh. “He will be.”
Then a pair of footsteps signaled the departure of both.
Carefully they came out of their hiding, Percival facing Gwaine pointedly. “He’s hurt.”
Gwaine nodded, adding to it, “He left? Alone?”
Percival shook his head. “Morgana’s right about one thing. Definitely strange for him.”
“Right.” Gwaine didn’t have a good feeling about this and by seeing the deep concern on Percival’s face he could tell his friend felt the same. “Okay, look, we need to get out of here. She’s taken most of the castle. If Arthur fled, and is injured, we need to find him.”
Percival heavily agreed. “If anything’s happened to him, Camelot will fall permanently under Morgana’s rule. Gwaine, such thing would be-
Gwaine curtly cut him off, “Hell. Yeah…come on Percival. Let’s go find him.”
They moved briskly away from the kitchens, but with care. There could be traps anywhere, especially now that the king was no longer even in the kingdom.
***
Said king whimpered now in agony as finally the brutal rolling of his body stopped. Behind him he could hear the pounding of horse’s hooves, getting closer…and closer. With each second, it was stronger, the vibrations hitting the earth. He couldn’t be captured. Arthur clawed at the earth desperately.
He had to get back to Camelot. He only left to protect Sarya, who hopefully was on her way safely to Ealdor, as he had led his adversary away from her route. Now he needed to get back to the land he loved. If he was going to die, it’d be defending his kingdom, not as some refugee who abandoned his home. Never had he felt more miserable in physical self as much as heart and soul.
Footsteps permeated his hearing, the horse’s hooves ended. He looked around to his side, noticing it now, the disappearance of it. When he fell from the horse, his weapon belt fell from his waist, slackened probably when he had removed his armor. Arthur wasn’t sure how good he would have been at using his sword in the poor condition he was in now, but at least it could have helped some with defense.
Now he had nothing.
His palms sinking into the muddy ground, his knees drilled into it, the noise of the footsteps was getting louder. Arthur lifted his head just a touch with cold prickles of dread, seeing against an Oak tree trunk a hovering shadow lit up by the moon’s pallid glow. He was trapped with no way out.
Suddenly it came, a fierce unyielding yank at the top of his hair. Arthur winced, but found his one last bit of strength. Adrenaline and fury were his friends. Pulling back, he ruthlessly shoved his elbow straight to the offending man’s ribs. It made the other cry out angrily. It wasn’t enough. With his first truly strong shock of fear in years, Arthur realized he was soon about to die, or if not, he’d be taken back to Camelot, and forced to his knees shamefully in front of his people. Morgana would do everything she could, so would his uncle and Helios until he bowed to the new queen. This injured he’d have no choice. Maybe she’d kill others in front of him to make her point until he begged her to stop.
And it all made Arthur feel sick, bile sitting disgustedly in his throat. It was never supposed to be this way. He always pictured his death on the battlefield, protecting his land, the people he loved, married to-
God in Heaven, where was she? If only he could see her, feel her weaving dark curls lock in his fingers, make sure she was safe. Inside his heart cried out. And as it did, he grew furious with his own weaknesses. This man wanted to take him, well fine, but he’d do everything he could to take him down too.
If this was to be his last breaths, it wouldn’t be as some feeble coward.
He crawled, unable to stand so not even trying to. On his knees and the palms of his hands, he tried to get away. But the other was soon at him again, this time pulling his hair back so fiercely, it ripped at his scalp. Not even pride could keep Arthur from letting out a moan that formed deep in his throat, the pain sharp and tearing. The man of Helios’s army faced him with vile disgust. Lifting his knife he brought it to Arthur’s throat, but then he stopped, stared, looking down at Arthur much more closely. Arthur could tell when it came to him as the man whispered with incredulity,
“You-you’re the king.”
“And you all are the vilest scum.” Arthur managed to mutter, before feeling his eyes roll back into his head. That one insult might be his last. His body sagged.
The man let out a wild laugh. Oh how Helios, Morgana and Agravaine would reward him. He got the king. But first, he was going to deal with him his own way for all the insulting cracks earlier. The orders were only to bring him back alive. No one said he had to be in perfect condition.
He pressed his blade against Arthur’s thin tunic, ripping away some of the already torn material. Then he shook him by the hair, getting the king to blearily come back to awareness.
He whispered crudely into the king’s ear, hearing Arthur grunt and feeling him start up a struggle, albeit feeble. “The Lady Morgana is going to award me, be sure of that. But first, your repentance for being so rude to me earlier.” He brought his knife threateningly against Arthur’s already abused flesh, prepared to make one punishing cut. Then he’d drag him back to his ruined land to the new queen, and smile with satisfaction as the broken man was forced to kneel before her.
Arthur could only weakly watch, feeling his eyes closing, and his bloodied feverish body drifting into the black pool of unconsciousness.
The man brought the knife down to cut, but before the blade could make contact, another one ripped through his back.
“Get away from him.”
The man looked down in shock, seeing its tip edge out of his stomach now. “What-
He feebly got out, before falling forward, the blade having torn through his insides, ending his life rapidly.
With a wrench of her brows, she unstuck the blade from his lifeless body. It was bloodied so she cleaned it on the debris of dirt on the forest floor. Then going down to her knees, she touched the cheek of the other man with great tenderness and horror in her eyes.
There was much blood.
“Arthur.”
Gwen whispered.
***
Will be continued in Four: The Burning Fever of Love
Excerpt: Tenderly she stroked his chest with wet cooled hands, whispering, “You will not die. I will not let you. It is not your time. I have always believed in you. Always loved you. I will do all I can to take this fever from you, to keep your wounds from infecting, but you must hold on. You must be strong. Your people need you to live and be the ruler, the king they love. Now whatever has passed, it does not matter. Arthur you must get well.
You must.”
She sobbed against him, her body shaking over his. It had been so long since she had seen him, and now that she was once again, she was committed to one thing.
He would open his eyes…
And see her.
Author’s Notes: This is where the story really moves apart from the show’s direction. I wanted to separate Arthur from his knights, forcing him to be lost in the forest, and the only way was having him protect a young citizen. The secret door, uh, it’s a castle, I can pretend they would have a secret way to get out that nobody else knew about, right? Well, I took some liberties. I’ll try to update soon.
Thank you for reading. Feedback is adored. Your comments throughout have been wonderful and I appreciate them so much!
Rating: R, mild. But this is the bulk of what warrants it. I didn’t want to sugarcoat the brutalities of battle.
Sorry for the bit of a wait again (though not as long as last time, lol). I still have that other fic I'm writing and it's been one of those weeks. Thanks for your patience.
Rest of my notes/disclaimer with the first part…
****
Three: Hell’s Face is Fear
Camelot was under siege.
A fierce battle was taking place within and outside.
Merlin had warned Arthur of Agravaine’s deceit and the plot his uncle had forged with Morgana and Helios to take Camelot using the highly secret, well contained layout of the kingdom’s entranceways. Arthur had quickly dismissed such warnings, but now the truth was brutally clear.
Spotting Merlin within the fighting fracas, trying to defend his king by clumsily swinging a sword he had found upon the ground nearby a fallen foe, Arthur called out to him as he sunk his blade into another, hearing his nemesis’s dull cry before he fell to the stone floor.
“Merlin, find Gaius and get him out of here!” Arthur didn’t want the servant going alone. He noticed on his left-hand side one of Camelot’s most trusted knights, a man of great character and strength, assisting in the fight. “Leon, go with, protect them!”
Leon took the enemy at his pulse, sinking the blade into his flesh before he pulled it out with ruthless expertise.
Merlin protested Arthur’s order, managing to bring down a man with his borrowed sword’s blade and a tad of magical help, the latter secretly. “You’re my king! I’m not leaving you!”
It was a truthful enough statement even if there was some edge to it. Their friendship had been frayed since Arthur banished Gwen. Merlin was upset about the manner in which she was sent away and that Arthur had been treating him quite shoddily since.
Merlin actually got to see Gwen again just recently after Arthur and Mithian’s hunting trip. Morgana enchanted Gwen to look like the deer and so Mithian accidentally hit her. That night Merlin secretly went back to the forest to help his friend. The next morning Gwen told him about Agravaine and Morgana’s plans. When Merlin tried to get Gwen to come back to Camelot she negated it so he suggested that instead she could go to Ealdor.
Merlin still wasn’t sure if she had.
As for the planned attack, even without mentioning Gwen’s name, Arthur hadn’t believed it and so now the kingdom was paying the price.
Yet even within all that, Merlin still considered Arthur the true king, and cared about his safety.
After all, they were supposed to be the two sides of a coin.
Arthur countered his servant’s stubbornness. “That’s an order Merlin!” It didn’t work. Breathing heavily, Arthur used sense to argue his point as he continued to use his physical prowess to wield his sword against Camelot’s enemies. “Merlin, Gaius is elderly, not strong enough to deal with this kind of fight. He could be killed, you see that, yes Merlin? You have to take him away from here.”
Leon regrettably agreed, backing up to the hallway so they could head up the steps to save the physician. “Come on Merlin.”
Merlin was brutally torn. His loyalty should be to his king, but he couldn’t stand the thought of Gaius falling in this battle.
Neither could Arthur. Gaius had cared for him since he was born and Merlin was a trustworthy friend.
“Go. Both of you. Now.” He grunted out.
With sharp precision of timing Percival was backing into the room now, wielding his sword against another of their adversaries. Hearing the tail end of the conversation, he reassured Leon. “Go on, I’ll stay with Arthur.”
To keep the king alive was imperative.
Leon pulled at Merlin’s arm, but the servant was hesitant.
“Arthur…”
“Gaius needs you Merlin. GO.”
Merlin showed his last bit of hesitation, gnawing at his bottom lip unhappily, before he fiercely rushed against Arthur’s side. He whispered into his ear so it wouldn’t be overheard, “Ealdor. Go with Percival and the others to Ealdor. We’ll meet you again there.”
Arthur nodded before he killed another, Merlin moving away from the direction of his blade with rapid response. Then the servant rejoined Leon.
As the two departed the room, Arthur continued wielding his sword with Percival nearby, wondering for a quick second where Morgana and Agravaine were hiding, or striking next.
***
Everything was in chaos.
The strong smell of burning fires irritated his nose. Bodies littered the hallways, those of the enemy and those draped in red cloaks, knights and guards of Camelot. They had tried to get most of the civilians out that had been at the banquet, but Arthur wasn’t sure about those on the outside, the workforce and villager farmers who had not attended. As he slashed at another nemesis, he grunted with memory. There was something vitally important he needed to get. He darted his eyes around the room filled with the sight and noise of metal upon metal , and every once in a while, screams of dying men. In a corner he spotted Gwaine assisting Percival, the pair of knights fiercely fighting back to back.
As he watched them, a man came at him, thinking that he was too distracted to notice, a foolish mistake he’d pay for with his life. Arthur grew up with threats regularly, making him always alert. So as the man grinned, he flicked his wrist and sent the blade of his sword straight into the man’s gut. Then pulling it out, Arthur jumped over the barrier of the falling body, moving swiftly toward the room’s exit.
Closer to the edge of the hallway now, he cautiously sought the steps, getting past Percival and Gwaine without them noticing.
Arthur took the steps two at a time, carefully checking around each landing until he came to the right one. The quiet made him feel edgy. Cautiously he kept his sword out, ready for potential enemies to strike. Moving through the long hallway, he took a glance outside one of the tall windows, seeing movement down upon the ground that reassured him. Leon and Merlin were leading Gaius out. They should be safe now, soon on their way to Ealdor.
Arthur stepped down the hallway swiftly. Again no one stopped him so he reached his chambers without incident.
Stepping into the front bedroom, he felt an injury he received downstairs give complaint. Sagging slightly against his bedpost, Arthur noticed an irritation of blood on the underside of his ribs. He ignored the hurt, focused on his purpose, finding the piece of furniture where he kept the box.
Opening it up, he hastily pocketed the items as voices now came from around the corner. Arthur quickly dropped to his knees behind the bed.
“I want my dear brother found. And once he is, bring him to me alive. Understood?”
“Yes, my lady.”
“Good.”
“The people are not heeding.”
“Then make them listen. Give no quarter. Kill a few as example. That will send them into shivers of fear. Plus once we have the fallen king, they’ll heed even better. Watching their oh so strong leader bow at my feet, they’ll have no choice but to give in. And then when we have their total loyalty…
We’ll kill their precious king.”
Arthur concealed a gasp with his hand, pushing his palm so tightly against his mouth he scratched his inner bottom lip into a shallow bleed.
She would murder innocent people.
For a year of his life he searched for Morgana when she was taken, felt such joy when he found her. How could she do this? It was more than physical weariness weighing him down now. Emotionally he was devastated. When had Morgana, his half-sister by blood, become so vile?
Why did she hate him so?
Morgana and her followers finally departed the room, definitely not giving thought to that the king would be hiding within it.
Arthur wasted no time in relief, simply looked around the room, until he spotted it past the curtains.
No one, but he and his father ever knew about it, not even Merlin or Morgana.
Only as a young naïve boy had he dared to use it, until getting caught red handed by his father.
Arthur moved now to the secret door, seemingly a part of the stone wall. Feeling around its edges, he touched the barely tangible handle.
When Morgause and her immortal army attacked Camelot he knew it would be folly to use this door then. It led to an open passage that could have resulted in death by the immortals. Now, although Helios’s army was strong, they were not immortal. If the open passage led him to adversaries on the other side, he could at least fight back.
Arthur opened the secret door, before shutting it firmly behind him. Then he ran down the hidden case of steps. Reaching the bottom, he carefully slid open the second door, finding himself one of luck so far. The open passage was vacant. He shut the second door just like he had the first behind him. After he did, it appeared to be nothing more than a stone section of the castle’s many towers.
The precise tower he now stood upon was quite high, with serrated barbs along the sides. As a boy, before being found by his father, he would use a rope, enjoying the thrill of navigating downward to adolescent freedom.
Against Morgause’s immortal army though, trying then to find a way to get his father out of the castle, he negated the idea, reasoning twofold. First, it would have given its surreptitious existence away to Morgana and Merlin. And secondly, his father in his unconscious state would not have been able to avoid the serrated barbs of the towers, and could have been killed. Thus, it was safest to use the window then.
Outside now, he could feel the force of the wind and smell the burning fires below. From the tower adjacent to the castle’s interior he could hear the murmur of voices. It was hard to reenter the castle from his current position, but easy enough to listen to a conversation. He pinpointed one of the voices quickly, Agravaine.
Arthur hid behind the column.
“Any that are still alive, put in the dungeons. I’m betting that most of the knights will fight to their death. They’re incredibly loyal to their king. Keep the fires burning so the people are corralled into one area. Do not destroy the castle though. It is well made, the one thing that cretin Uther kept in check. And most importantly, find my nephew. Bring him to the new queen.”
Arthur wanted to shred the life out of his uncle for what he had done, but then then he started to hear them, the screams.
They were coming from the citadel, the marketplace and areas beyond. Arthur carefully moved away from the column as another wrenching scream pierced his ears. Raking the citadel and surrounding parts below, he spotted the thick tendrils of rising fire blocking people’s paths and the glint of metal that was being taken away from a person’s flailing body.
They were doing it, murdering citizens.
His small comfort was that it shouldn’t be many. Morgana had to know how foolish it would be to conduct mass killings. Trying to start a new rule in such a barbaric way wouldn’t help the people come to her side.
Further away he noticed the bright red of his men, some dead upon the ground, others fighting against the Southron army. But here in this area especially, it seemed there were few of Camelot’s military and that most were laid on the cobbles of stone, lifeless.
The agonized screams were too much to take. As king, caretaker of his people, Arthur knew he had to do something. He had no rope though like he had used when he was a boy, and so he would have to jump from his post.
Arthur inhaled a deep breath and slowly let it out, working to center his mind on just his task, paying little heed to the trickle of wet fear that slid down his back. The distance from the post he was holding, to the ground below, was dizzying. He steeled himself, understanding that it was imperative he leapt far enough away from the jagged spikes of the tower’s sides or it would be his death, a dark thought he didn’t want to dwell on for long.
Arthur drew one of his hands away from the post, taking another glance at what was below him before removing his other hand too, making the jump.
Suddenly flying through the void, he hoped it was enough of a gap or he’d soon be feeling those serrated barbs’ impalement.
***
The room was filled with vaporous billows of smoke from burnt out torches, and the fetid scent of death.
Bringing down an enemy invader, Percival looked around, suddenly noticing something within the hazy room that made his eyes widen. “Where is he?”
“Where’s who?” Gwaine grunted back, stabbing a man with his sword.
Percival wriggled closer to his friend and fellow knight, whispering it carefully.
“The Princess.”
It had sometimes been Gwaine’s teasing nickname for him, long before Arthur became king. It made Gwaine startle now, looking around frantically as he kept wary of the next invader. “Oh fie. He was just here.”
Percival nodded, slashing a man with his blade and then throwing him against the wall furiously before he could react. At his grand size, it really wasn’t all that hard, not to mention that having a lost king put him in an ill mood. Gwaine watched with raised brows before starting to back out, gesturing for Percival to follow. “Come on! Watch your back, and while you’re at it watch mine.”
Percival rolled his eyes inwardly. “And then?”
Gwaine grunted, feeling a man sink his blade into his side. He backhanded him viciously in retaliation. Aiding his fellow knight, Percival shoved the man so hard that the fellow banged his head solidly against the stone wall, before slumping lifelessly.
“Thanks.” Gwaine let out.
“Don’t mention it. And…so?”
“We’ll see if Elyan’s seen Ar-uh, the Princess.”
***
He cleanly avoided the serrated barbs, but his fast plunging descent couldn’t insure his landing.
As Arthur’s feet hit the ground with fierce dissonance, his body filled with pain, the wounded area near his ribs crying out, and his legs shrieking in protest. If it wasn’t for a market stand nearby that he gripped fervently with his fingers, he probably couldn’t have remained standing. At least he had yet to be noticed.
Letting out some deep breaths, getting back his equilibrium, Arthur let go of the market cart.
After taking a few steps, he was faced with a disturbing sight that made his stomach churn sickeningly.
Lain upon the stone ground, face forward, was a man with blonde whiffs of hair, grayed at the edges. He was a farmer Arthur recognized only by sight, having seen him before working ardently on his crops. Pushed into his back was a knife’s blade. Arthur’s vision burned hotly. Even if he didn’t know this man’s name, a hardworking individual didn’t deserve to die in such a cruel way.
Another look further on made him gasp in shock. No.
A memory twisted through his thoughts as he tried to deny what he was seeing. It couldn’t be.
Couldn’t…
Riding alongside each other, they were returning from a private picnic in the wood. As Arthur and Gwen neared the first gates, a young girl ran toward them.
“Gwen!”
Arthur brought his horse to a quick halt to avoid hitting the girl. She seemed no more than ten years old.
Gwen jumped down from hers, rushing to the girl with familiarity. Gently holding onto the girl’s arms, she asked, “What is it Sarya?”
The girl was breathing fast. Arthur moved down from his horse now too, approaching softly. Like Gwen he squatted down, removing his hood. Seeing who he was, the girl gasped, shivering with fright.
Gwen shook her head. “Oh no, don’t be scared.”
Arthur approached gently. “Guinevere is right. I am Arthur. Now what is the matter?”
Gwen gestured meaningfully. “It’s okay. You can tell him. He only wants to help.”
“But he’s the king.” Sarya insisted with clear distrust.
Arthur smiled gently. “That’s right I am. And that means Camelot and its people mean much to me. Now Sarya is your name, yes? What is upsetting you?”
The girl shook her head, not wanting to tell him. Gwen’s hand came to Arthur’s shoulder and she led him away for a moment. Arthur felt a tingle of irritation and even hurt. No one ever shunned him like this girl had.
Gwen explained calmly. “She was scared of your father. Sarya’s father is ill quite a bit, and while he could rule, your father used to put it off to laziness. I fear that’s what this has to do with now. Her father is ill again.”
Arthur grimaced. His father had his fallacies, but he had also been blamed for much that wasn’t his fault while he was king. “Why did he call him lazy then?”
Gwen seemed to hesitate.
“Come on, tell me.” Arthur insisted. “Look Guinevere, you may not see it, but I do, there are sometimes people who do not work as hard as they could.”
Gwen shook her head adamantly. “Not Sarya’s father. He never shirks responsibility. But when the illness strikes it sometimes forces him to days of bed-rest.
Don’t look at me so questioningly. Gaius has been treating him for years, but there’s no permanent remedy.”
“I wasn’t doubting you.”
“Were you not?” Gwen hotly asked.
Arthur sighed. “Alright, I was wrong. Okay? I’ve just heard so many complaints about my father, sometimes unfair ones.”
“Well this one is just. Sarya’s father works for Sir Reginald, a very distinguished knight, yes, but he is not very…patient.”
Arthur had to agree. All of his knights he had great respect for, but it was true that some could be harsher, and Sir Reginald was of the old, his father’s time. It was entirely possible he saw the illness as no more than an excuse to get out of work. “Okay, you’re right…on that.”
“Then maybe you understand better.”
Than his father? Arthur wondered. She didn’t speak his name, but he guessed that was what she was hinting at.
Gwen clasped one of Arthur’s hands with patience and a touch of regret. “I’m sorry. I know you would never try to scare her, but Sarya does not see it as I do. She is uncomfortable with those of your status. Let me talk to her alone.”
“Fine.” Arthur quietly relented with a pout of his lips, but then he grabbed Gwen’s hand before she could step away. “I want to help, Guinevere. If he’s being treated by Gaius then this disease is real.”
“Of course it is. If you saw him you’d see that right away.”
Arthur sighed heavily. He felt restless, wanting to do something, but Guinevere made it clear, the girl did not like his kind. She held no trust in him. Finally he relented. “Go on. Talk to her. I’ll stand back, keep the horses with me.”
Gwen smiled gratefully, touching his cheek. “Thank you.”
Arthur just nodded as she moved back to the girl. He listened in to bits of the conversation, learning that Sir Reginald definitely didn’t want Sarya’s father to be his servant anymore. Arthur could understand Sir Reginald’s aggravation with how the work was not getting done well enough, but too he felt for Sarya’s father. To be without work would put their family at a great disadvantage. And work was a man’s pride. To put food upon your family’s table was an honor. To be without it could further along her father’s disease. Gazing upon the tearful girl’s face Arthur couldn’t stand it.
There had to be something he could do…
And then it came to him.
Bringing his horse, Arthur walked back to Sarya and Gwen. In his pocket were pieces of a carrot that he usually carried when riding.
“Do you like horses, Sarya?” He asked softly.
Gwen looked back at him with a frown, but Arthur kept his eyes on the girl, determined. She backed up against Gwen, making him hold back his exasperated sigh. Bending his knees, Arthur brought the carrot pieces out, his palm flat, held in the same way he would do with a skittish animal.
“Here, why don’t you feed him? He goes by the name Fire’s Blade, as he has a bit of all that in him. Take the carrot and just lay your hand flat like I am now. He knows what to do then.” He told her with a reassuring smile.
As the girl still didn’t move from Gwen’s side Arthur frowned with frustration. He looked up to her, almost pleading. Gwen smiled caringly, holding Sarya back to get her attention.
“It’s okay. Really, Sarya. Arthur is a kind goodhearted king. He won’t hurt you. And when will you ever get a chance again to feed a horse of a noble, right? Go on now.” She pushed the girl forward gently.
Sarya bit at her lip. Seeing it, Arthur smiled even more kindly, not moving toward her at all, just keeping the food for the horse flat out in his palm. As the girl finally approached, he said nothing, just let her take it from him.
Quickly Sarya snatched it into her hand, but to his stallion she stepped up quite bravely. Arthur could see it quickly. Indeed she loved horses.
Soon she was so taken by Fire’s Blade and enjoying feeding him so much, that she seemed more relaxed.
Gwen stepped up to Arthur with a small grateful smile. “Well, you helped with her tears. She’s taken by the horse now. But that won’t help her father unfortunately.”
Arthur smiled with purpose. “I have a plan for that too.”
As Sarya continued to feed the horse, so comfortable with it now she’d pretty much forgotten the king’s presence, Arthur moved alongside, talking softly to not startle her. “I know of a young knight named Sir Paul who is needing of a bit of help, just a bit mind you. Sarya do you think your father would like to work for him? I think it would be a good match. Sir Paul will be so grateful for your father’s service.”
Not looking at him, still not fully settled with the king, though grateful for the chance to feed his horse, the girl whispered, “But sometimes Papa is too ill to work.”
“Oh that’s alright. You see…” He whispered, “Sir Paul likes to get a lot done himself, but too he is quite awful at tending to gardens. Your father can return just in time to make sure the plants recover from his over-watering. Now don’t you think that’s the perfect deal?”
The girl turned away from the horse, finally bravely facing the king who was bent to her level, smiling ever so gently. “Why would you do that for my Papa?”
There was a tear strolling down her cheek. Arthur fought to keep his emotions in check, stating honestly, “Because I am his king, and as King I make sure that the people of this land, as long as they are ready to rise to their duty like I do mine, are taken well care of. And because I would like you to trust me more Sarya. Now what do you say? Should we go talk to your Papa about this?”
“What if Sir Paul doesn’t like him?”
Arthur shook his head firmly. “I’ve known him for years. Don’t worry on that. He’ll like him.”
He brought out his hand tentatively, never needing acceptance so much as he did now from this young girl. “How about it?”
He didn’t want to be feared.
Sarya looked down at his hand, unthreatening, then up to his face, kind. She placed her small hand into his larger one. Arthur clasped it gently, thinking how much smoother it was than his callused one. Then standing up, keeping hold of the girl’s hand, he felt it like a brush of warm wind upon his cheek.
Gwen’s lips moved away as he asked her curiously, “What was that for?”
Taking Sarya’s other hand she whispered over the girl’s head, “Because I love you, and because you showed yourself just now to be the caring king I always knew you’d be.”
The memory faded, Arthur searching the pillaged area desperately with his blue blazing eyes.
Heaven, where was she?
He wondered anxiously, because down upon the ground of an opened cattle stall was Sir Paul, dead, eyes wide open to whatever horror befell him. A line of blood trickled from his mouth, signaling that he was killed in a way that led to internal injury. More blood lined his chest. He must have been stabbed. Arthur tried to blink away the returned burning of his eyes, getting out roughly, “Savages.”
A bit beyond Arthur saw the parents lying similarly, but where was Sarya?
Clutching his jaw, Arthur moved over to her parents, hoping that it wasn’t the worst. He dropped down to his knees, feeling it from each. “There’s a pulse.” It was the most reassuring thing he found since making his jump. They were alive. The problem was they were out in the open, and still no sign of Sarya. He had to find her and he had to get her parents somewhere safer. Arthur scanned the area, spotting another market cart with a pair of boots poking out from behind. They looked the size of a child’s. Stepping away from the unconscious parents, Arthur stopped at the cart, holding his sword out in case he was wrong about it being a child.
“Come out from there.” He ordered quietly.
No answer, no movement, Arthur added, almost certain now it was a child. “Come on. Don’t be frightened.”
Finally a face showed from behind the cart, dirtied and soot stained, “Sarya.” Arthur breathed.
Shakily she asked, “King Arthur?”
He nodded, lowering his hand to her. “Yes. Come here. It’s alright.”
It must have been the horror of the war because she actually rushed to him now, fingers clinging to his chainmail. “Mama and Papa are dead.” She stated with trembling lips.
Arthur shook his head strongly, arms gently wrapped around the girl. Before he could counter, she frantically related, “Sir Paul is too. He told me to run away and hide, turn away from them and not come out.”
Arthur let out a painful sigh. That was why she had been behind the cart. Sir Paul wanted to not only save her physically, but keep her from seeing anything awful. It was he too Arthur surmised who had protected her parents, sacrificing himself.
The match between Sir Paul and her family was a perfect one. They regularly invited him to dinner and he taught Sarya how to ride a horse. Plus each time her father grew ill, Sir Paul did just what Arthur suggested he would. He took over his house duties himself and checked with Gaius to make sure that the family was doing alright, the kindest knight ever really, and now he was gone.
“Fie.” Arthur hissed out over Sarya’s head, but then he faced her definitively. “Sarya, your mama and papa are alive. They’re hurt, yet breathing. You are right about Sir Paul though.”
Her eyes filled with tears, gratefulness, fear, and the pain of losing a friend, too many tangled emotions, Arthur thought. Once she had been so afraid of him. Now he could feel the girl not wanting to let him go. Gently he brushed away the windswept hair from her eyes, starting to fret. It had been merely moments since he jumped. Soon enough he’d be noticed.
Oh, his Camelot looked nothing more now like the gates of hell except for the still perfectly standing castle at its center. Bodies all around. Fires burning. Screams and whimpers. The stain of blood upon the streets. His beautiful home, ravaged, raped.
Arthur turned away from it, focusing again on Sarya, bringing his palms out to her shoulders, gently gripping them with his fingers. “I know this is frightening, Sarya. But I need you to be brave, okay? You showed such courage when you fed Fire’s Blade. I need you to show that same courage now.”
She was sobbing, but she bit at her bottom lip, giving a shaky nod of her head. “Okay.”
Arthur smiled slightly, coughing as a tendril of smoke blew their way. “Very good.” He did a quick search, finding a bit of the marketplace that was not touched at all. He could put them there, pray that it would be safe. But first he had to take care of his attire. Dressed in his ceremonial red and marked armor he was too obvious. If they realized he was the king they’d take him and then he could never help Sarya. So even though the metal and chainmail would be his greatest physical protection, Arthur pulled it all away now to conceal his identity. He didn’t stop until he was wearing nothing more on his upper body than the pale ash tunic Guinevere cleaned for him.
Sarya stared. Arthur whispered to her rapidly as he pulled her hand, leaving the marked clothing underneath a fallen market stand. “Come on. I don’t want them to know who I am.” He moved behind another abandoned cart, gesturing to the ground. “Stay on your knees and hide here Sarya. I ’m going to move your mama and papa to somewhere safer, alright?”
She followed his instructions right away, concealing herself behind the cart. Arthur was grateful that growing up a royal you learned quickly how to give command to get people to listen.
As Sarya hid, Arthur ran back to the opened stall. There was a building nearby. He’d hide them behind it, within the columns of stone. Arthur hefted each, one at time over his shoulder.
As he was returning to Sarya, he realized his blunder. Camelot guard would never attack a child. They’d be stripped of their uniform for such heinous action. But Helios’s men seemed to follow little conduct, for now one of them was suddenly standing behind the unsuspecting Sarya, raising his blade threateningly. Arthur leapt to action, whipping out his sword with fierce efficiency and letting out a guttural cry.
“AAAHH!”
As the man foolishly turned around, Arthur drove his blade straight into his heart. Sarya shrieked, jumping away. Arthur’s cut was clean. The lifeless man started to fall. Arthur grabbed Sarya’s hand, pulling her away just in time.
His warning cry brought him to attention quickly. Soon others of the army were there to avenge the death of one of their own. Finding Arthur in nothing but his pale ash tunic, they saw him as no threat. As the bulk of Camelot’s Guard was fighting in other areas at the moment, he had the disadvantage of no assistance.
Yet, he was raised to be a warrior and was a cunning swordfighter. Whipping around to face his foes, Arthur stiffened his arm downward in front of Sarya protectively. “Stay behind me!” He called out to her before lifting his blade to one of his attackers. Even with his training, it soon proved to be a grave challenge, keeping Sarya safe while having no body protection, and a too busied mind.
His adversary thus found leverage to counter Arthur’s impressive fighting skills. His blade slashed into the area directly above Arthur’s breast making him cry out with anguish. Almost falling to his knees from the shock of pain, blood leaking from the new wound, Arthur used his anger to drive his blade into the man’s stomach, killing him.
He darted his eyes to Sarya who was struggling to stay out of the fray as more of the Southron army came at him. He fought the first ones off, achieving a lull in the fighting that allowed him to finally catch his breath after that bad cut, but it wouldn’t last long.
Voices came from further away, one of them Helios, yelling at some of his men, getting them back into order. Just a little past him he could see Morgana too, firmly commanding that the killings stop and that the hunt begin for the king. Arthur watched cautiously as Morgana started ending some of the smaller fires with what looked like magic, flames just suddenly disappearing.
He couldn’t afford to be caught. His sword expertise would be no match against Morgana’s powers of malevolent sorcery.
Arthur took notice of the burning stable stalls across from where Morgana and Helios were. Some of the horses were starting to flee. Spotting a running mare, who he knew to be gentle, Arthur quickly waved with his arms to get her to stop. As she did, he grasped tightly to her mane. “Easy there, easy.” He did his best to cool her frightened temper. Then he turned backward.
“Sarya.” Arthur grabbed the girl’s arm, getting her to come in closer. He looked up at the mare with a grimace. She had no saddle on, no riding gear, nothing. It would have to do.
“Sarya, get on her.”
The girl looked up at the king with shock, but before she could say a word about his injury or anything else, he countered.
“No. Listen to me. She’s gentle and you’ve proved you’re good with horses. Sir Paul even gave you riding lessons. You can hold onto her mane and she’ll lead you out.” He pointed to the open and hazardous woodland. He had no other choice. Morgana and Helios seemed to be ceasing the killings, but now especially Sarya was vulnerable. She knew the whereabouts of the king. Arthur had no idea what kind of spells Morgana could use on the girl. He had to get her out of the kingdom.
“I can’t leave Mama and Papa.” The girl told him frightfully. His grasp tight on the mare’s mane, Arthur nodded rapidly. They didn’t have much time before Morgana might spot him or if not that, more of Helios’s men forced him to fight. “It’s okay. They’re alive. Remember that.”
Just a bit of distance away he could tell her house was in flames. He tried not to concentrate on it. The house could be rebuilt, not her life if she was captured. Reaching down, Arthur grasped the girl by the waist, lifting her up until she was astride the mare. Taking hold of her hands, he instructed. “Hold her right here.” He darted his eyes. Another group of men were coming after him. “You understand?”
The frightened girl nodded her head. Arthur tried to calm her nerves. “If you hold on tight you’ll be fine. Remember everything Sir Paul taught you. She’s a good one. He inched upward, whispering in her ear. “Go to the east. Go to Ealdor. Direct her that way. You’ll find it. I know you will. She’s been there before.”
She had. The first visit, Arthur recalled with a touch of pained sentimental thought, Guinevere rode her.
The girl’s brow wrinkled. “But what about you K-
He shook his head strongly before she could continue, bringing his hand up to silence her. “No. I’ll be fine. Now GO Sarya! Give her a kick and get out of here!”
She hesitated for a second, probably not sure about leaving home, but as he got ready to shout his command again, Sarya nodded her head, giving a kick that sent the mare on the move. She headed straight toward the gates. As Arthur sighed with relief he felt eyes upon him. He turned just fractionally, regretting it after he did.
Morgana.
From the distance she was watching him with heated interest. As their eyes met for a quick second he saw something in her expression change. Fie. Just as it happened, a man of the army, not yet instructed to stop killing, came at him. Arthur brought out his sword to defend himself, looking to Sarya, seeing that she was just getting to the woodland. The man too now looked her way, an evil glint forming in his eye.
“NO!” Arthur yelled. The man had no morals. He’d go after the girl and kill her. Arthur purposely picked a fight with the man, his mind flashing to Merlin, how sometimes his loud idiocy actually worked, and so now Arthur yelled out ugly insults. Soon his nemesis was fighting him, for the time being forgetting about the girl. After a few strikes, Arthur caught him in a vulnerable spot. He delivered a hard swipe to the man’s shoulder. As the man nursed it, Arthur whipped around, finding another horse running by. The same way he stopped the mare, he ceased this one’s movement, speaking calmly as he saw the horse’s nostrils and eyes flaring with tension. Across the way he heard the command, coming just a bit closer now. She indeed had recognized him, and now gave the order.
“GET HIM! Capture Arthur and bring him back to me. NOW.”
Arthur glanced back and forth between the two, weighing each issue. On the far side he had a faction of Helios’s men in hot pursuit, ready to capture the fallen king for the new queen. On the side closest he had the foe he’d been fighting who now wanted to go after Sarya . If he caught her she’d die. Arthur felt he had no choice. He had to get out of Camelot now.
Grabbing the horse’s mane, sword sheathed, Arthur was too distracted to realize that his foe had finished nursing his wound. As he started to climb atop the horse’s back, the foe stalked to his side, bringing his sword out with furious intent. The moment Arthur grasped the horse’s mane, his nemesis directed the blade of his sword upward and shoved it into his vulnerable flesh, just missing piercing his heart, but doing grave enough damage.
Arthur screamed.
It was like an explosion, his upper body erupting into serrations of hot pain. Hands bitterly shaking, Arthur reached up, grasping the blunt edge of the sword and twisting it away from his bleeding upper body. His tunic ripped shrilly, his flesh bubbling with anguish. Tears burned in Arthur’s eyes, his breath choked. All he could do was use the minor advantage of being seated upon the horse. Arthur pulled on the stallion’s mane and gave it as much a kick he could muster, sending it into a wild gallop away from Camelot.
***
“Oh no.”
Percival muttered before feeling Gwaine strongly pulling him back behind a column. Just a few feet away from them at the southern side of the castle was a band of Helios’s men and Agravaine locking Elyan into shackles.
“We have to help him.” Percival muttered with feeling. After over a year now of fighting together, all the knights Arthur had brought into service during Morgana’s first attack were close as they, and Leon, were the ones the king mostly brought with him on excursions out of Camelot.
Gwaine shook his head. “What, and get captured too?”
“But-
Gwaine, the silly knight, took command, using his sense, to argue the strong point. “Percival, I’m as twisted up about this as you, but Elyan’s strong. He knows what to do. We still have to find the king.”
Percival hated it, knew that Gwaine probably didn’t like it much more either. Finding Arthur was crucial to the kingdom’s peaceful continuance. “Right. Come on.”
They backed away from the columns, leaving Elyan to his fate.
***
Away now from Camelot, the forest was dark and riddled with barriers. Arthur had only been riding for a few fast moments, but already was being faced with many obstacles. His vision was not very good as the tears kept forming in his eyes from the pain of his wounds, his body slick with sweat and the shine of blood. His hands kept losing their endeavor to hold tight to the horse’s mane. After a fifth time of them sliding off, Arthur leaned forward, wrapping his arms around the sloppy neck instead and keeping his head lowered. The horse, riddled with perspiration and wearing no bridle or saddle, provided feeble support at best.
“Mgggmmm…” Arthur moaned with rawness. It hurt so much every time his chest hit against the horse’s flank, causing further abrasions to already inflicted areas.
It was just a murmur of sound, but he could swear the foe who had thought of going after Sarya was thoroughly chasing him now on horseback. Arthur had led him in the opposite direction she had gone, but honestly he was losing sight of his own whereabouts right now. All he could tell for sure was that his fast ride was taking him further away from Camelot, a fact he didn’t like at all. The familiar forest that he usually knew so well now felt like a twisting mind-bending labyrinth.
His chest smacked against the horse’s flank again, making Arthur grunt in misery. “Aahhh…”
He couldn’t continue like this. His skin felt hot, clammy, and where he was injured dense patches of blood shined foully. It had to be far enough away that Sarya would be safe. There was no other choice for if his body kept slamming into the horse’s, more wounds would be ripped open. It put him in grave peril, but maybe it could be seen as the lesser evil. He had to slow down the horse to keep from hurting his chest more, and to keep the horse from taking a tumble.
Lifting his head just enough to get his cheek bolstered by its neck, Arthur pulled at the horse’s mane, getting the animal to slow. His seating had been losing bolster for a while now, and as he slowed it got even worse. Body oils from the horse combined with his own sweat and blood flow helped none. Even as he tried to tangle his grimy fingers into the horse’s hairs, he felt his grip slackening, his body leaning hazardously to the side. As the horse jumped over a bramble of brush, his fall began and so fervently injured, he was helpless to prevent it.
Arthur’s battered body slid away from the horse’s sweating flank and then tumbled to the side. He hit the ground with a heavy thud, rolling without control upon its coarseness.
***
Gwaine and Percival carefully made their way through the castle, the bulk of it now taken by Helios’s army and so they had to cautiously keep out of sight. As they made their way past the now empty kitchens, they heard voices coming from down the stairs. Gwaine whispered to Percival, “Morgana.” They hid within one of the tall stone arches, listening in.
“Your men should be better minded.”
“It’s been a brutal fight Morgana. And you gave the order to kill civilians, make examples.”
“That didn’t mean they had permission to end the lives of so many and destroy a multitude of homes. If we want the people to mind us, we must have some of their respect. Plain fear will not work, nor will hatred. Make sure in the future they refrain from such recklessness. I’ve already had to put a temporary physician in place for the ones who were injured.”
“We could simply let them die if their wounds are that bad.”
“No. And once again you fail to understand. Having no care for them at all will lead to anarchy. I want the people’s trust. Fear will be part of it, but not everything.”
“Understood.”
There was a long pause.
“So…he got away.”
“Yes, but my men are in pursuit now. Those closest to the gate said he looked like he was bleeding heavily and that another of my men was pursuing him.”
“I want him found. Already his servant has disappeared.”
“What would he matter anyway if he’s nothing but a servant?”
“Oh Helios, this is not just any servant. His loyalty to Arthur is almost sickening, which could be used to our advantage. I just hope Emrys doesn’t come. I’ve had visions that he would try to end our rule.”
“Who is Emrys?”
“Never mind. You said he was bleeding heavily?”
“That’s what a few of my men said.”
“And yet they failed to catch him.”
“He was riding fast. They caught no more than a blur. And he was in simple clothing, dirtied, not so easily recognizable.”
“I suppose I can’t blame them for that. A great distance separated us when I first saw him and with what he was wearing I didn’t identify him either, not until he turned to face me. No matter. If he’s so gravely injured he won’t get far, not alone.”
“Right. I’m sure my men will be back with him soon, that he’ll have no choice, but to give up.”
“Oh now don’t underestimate him. He rode out of Camelot and to do that, he must have had a strong reason. The Arthur Pendragon I know would never leave his kingdom while it was under attack. He’d rather stay and die on the battlefield. Make no mistake of it. Something impelled him to leave. And so it’s possible that could be used against him.”
“Once he is captured.”
“Yes. And be sure of it that he IS, Helios.”
There was a long drawn out sigh. “He will be.”
Then a pair of footsteps signaled the departure of both.
Carefully they came out of their hiding, Percival facing Gwaine pointedly. “He’s hurt.”
Gwaine nodded, adding to it, “He left? Alone?”
Percival shook his head. “Morgana’s right about one thing. Definitely strange for him.”
“Right.” Gwaine didn’t have a good feeling about this and by seeing the deep concern on Percival’s face he could tell his friend felt the same. “Okay, look, we need to get out of here. She’s taken most of the castle. If Arthur fled, and is injured, we need to find him.”
Percival heavily agreed. “If anything’s happened to him, Camelot will fall permanently under Morgana’s rule. Gwaine, such thing would be-
Gwaine curtly cut him off, “Hell. Yeah…come on Percival. Let’s go find him.”
They moved briskly away from the kitchens, but with care. There could be traps anywhere, especially now that the king was no longer even in the kingdom.
***
Said king whimpered now in agony as finally the brutal rolling of his body stopped. Behind him he could hear the pounding of horse’s hooves, getting closer…and closer. With each second, it was stronger, the vibrations hitting the earth. He couldn’t be captured. Arthur clawed at the earth desperately.
He had to get back to Camelot. He only left to protect Sarya, who hopefully was on her way safely to Ealdor, as he had led his adversary away from her route. Now he needed to get back to the land he loved. If he was going to die, it’d be defending his kingdom, not as some refugee who abandoned his home. Never had he felt more miserable in physical self as much as heart and soul.
Footsteps permeated his hearing, the horse’s hooves ended. He looked around to his side, noticing it now, the disappearance of it. When he fell from the horse, his weapon belt fell from his waist, slackened probably when he had removed his armor. Arthur wasn’t sure how good he would have been at using his sword in the poor condition he was in now, but at least it could have helped some with defense.
Now he had nothing.
His palms sinking into the muddy ground, his knees drilled into it, the noise of the footsteps was getting louder. Arthur lifted his head just a touch with cold prickles of dread, seeing against an Oak tree trunk a hovering shadow lit up by the moon’s pallid glow. He was trapped with no way out.
Suddenly it came, a fierce unyielding yank at the top of his hair. Arthur winced, but found his one last bit of strength. Adrenaline and fury were his friends. Pulling back, he ruthlessly shoved his elbow straight to the offending man’s ribs. It made the other cry out angrily. It wasn’t enough. With his first truly strong shock of fear in years, Arthur realized he was soon about to die, or if not, he’d be taken back to Camelot, and forced to his knees shamefully in front of his people. Morgana would do everything she could, so would his uncle and Helios until he bowed to the new queen. This injured he’d have no choice. Maybe she’d kill others in front of him to make her point until he begged her to stop.
And it all made Arthur feel sick, bile sitting disgustedly in his throat. It was never supposed to be this way. He always pictured his death on the battlefield, protecting his land, the people he loved, married to-
God in Heaven, where was she? If only he could see her, feel her weaving dark curls lock in his fingers, make sure she was safe. Inside his heart cried out. And as it did, he grew furious with his own weaknesses. This man wanted to take him, well fine, but he’d do everything he could to take him down too.
If this was to be his last breaths, it wouldn’t be as some feeble coward.
He crawled, unable to stand so not even trying to. On his knees and the palms of his hands, he tried to get away. But the other was soon at him again, this time pulling his hair back so fiercely, it ripped at his scalp. Not even pride could keep Arthur from letting out a moan that formed deep in his throat, the pain sharp and tearing. The man of Helios’s army faced him with vile disgust. Lifting his knife he brought it to Arthur’s throat, but then he stopped, stared, looking down at Arthur much more closely. Arthur could tell when it came to him as the man whispered with incredulity,
“You-you’re the king.”
“And you all are the vilest scum.” Arthur managed to mutter, before feeling his eyes roll back into his head. That one insult might be his last. His body sagged.
The man let out a wild laugh. Oh how Helios, Morgana and Agravaine would reward him. He got the king. But first, he was going to deal with him his own way for all the insulting cracks earlier. The orders were only to bring him back alive. No one said he had to be in perfect condition.
He pressed his blade against Arthur’s thin tunic, ripping away some of the already torn material. Then he shook him by the hair, getting the king to blearily come back to awareness.
He whispered crudely into the king’s ear, hearing Arthur grunt and feeling him start up a struggle, albeit feeble. “The Lady Morgana is going to award me, be sure of that. But first, your repentance for being so rude to me earlier.” He brought his knife threateningly against Arthur’s already abused flesh, prepared to make one punishing cut. Then he’d drag him back to his ruined land to the new queen, and smile with satisfaction as the broken man was forced to kneel before her.
Arthur could only weakly watch, feeling his eyes closing, and his bloodied feverish body drifting into the black pool of unconsciousness.
The man brought the knife down to cut, but before the blade could make contact, another one ripped through his back.
“Get away from him.”
The man looked down in shock, seeing its tip edge out of his stomach now. “What-
He feebly got out, before falling forward, the blade having torn through his insides, ending his life rapidly.
With a wrench of her brows, she unstuck the blade from his lifeless body. It was bloodied so she cleaned it on the debris of dirt on the forest floor. Then going down to her knees, she touched the cheek of the other man with great tenderness and horror in her eyes.
There was much blood.
“Arthur.”
Gwen whispered.
***
Will be continued in Four: The Burning Fever of Love
Excerpt: Tenderly she stroked his chest with wet cooled hands, whispering, “You will not die. I will not let you. It is not your time. I have always believed in you. Always loved you. I will do all I can to take this fever from you, to keep your wounds from infecting, but you must hold on. You must be strong. Your people need you to live and be the ruler, the king they love. Now whatever has passed, it does not matter. Arthur you must get well.
You must.”
She sobbed against him, her body shaking over his. It had been so long since she had seen him, and now that she was once again, she was committed to one thing.
He would open his eyes…
And see her.
Author’s Notes: This is where the story really moves apart from the show’s direction. I wanted to separate Arthur from his knights, forcing him to be lost in the forest, and the only way was having him protect a young citizen. The secret door, uh, it’s a castle, I can pretend they would have a secret way to get out that nobody else knew about, right? Well, I took some liberties. I’ll try to update soon.
Thank you for reading. Feedback is adored. Your comments throughout have been wonderful and I appreciate them so much!