Disclaimer:
I do not own 'Merlin' or any characters therein.
The chapter titles are references to various things that I also do not own.
I do own this mug that I'm drinking out of and the computer that I'm typing on. It's a nice mug.
Author Note: Reader, I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I enjoyed writing it! Cheers!
Chapter 1: Take a Break!
Leon readjusted the bandage around his head before giving his report to Prince Arthur.
"And so you see sire," said Leon rubbing the bridge of his nose with a wrapped hand, "the capes seem to be of the one color that completely infuriates them." The cockatrices seemed almost friendly before they saw the capes, padding around on their little feet and gnawing at some fallen timber. Sure, Leon would never have claimed that they were sweet enough to be house pets, but wasn't there something peaceful and majestic about animals in nature? Evidentially not, the universe seemed to say, for as soon as the first cockatrice glanced his cape, all tranquility—imagined or existing—dissolved into a frenzy of teeth and swords. A shiver rippled up Leon's spine at the recollection. He could almost feel the creature's hot breath misting over him.
He cleared his throat and waited for the prince to speak. Arthur's eyes scanned the party understanding for the first time the state of their dress. The knights huddled near the back wall of the throne room. None stood upright, as was expected of men of their caliber, though the torn pant legs and crude bandages gave ample explanation as to why. Chainmail flopped pathetically over stomachs—belts seemingly snapped, ripped or lost somewhere between Balor and Camelot. Snatches of cape hung limply from their shoulders. Leon, who had come away with his cape muddied and ripped full in half, actually had more cape to show than his fellows.
Leon had lamented the fate of his faithful cape, but the lament was brief. When one's sword arm is largely down the gullet of a beast, a ruined cape is a comparatively small problem. True, it had seen many good battles on his shoulders, but Leon liked to believe that, unlike the horde of angry, biting, viciously evil, and in no way peaceful or majestic cockatrices, his cape was in a better place. Leon was exhausted. Whether that was due to the minor concussion he'd attained, or the fact that he'd been up for the last twenty-six continuous hours, he could not say. All he knew was that he completed his mission. Leon and his men saw to it that the messenger from Ajacentsburg was delivered back to his kingdom. Yes, the messenger had been wounded, and yes, the injury may have been preventable, but arguably a broken arm was better than being eaten alive by an oversized hell-lizard. Plus the messenger had been annoyingly whiny and wore too much perfume. In any case, Leon had done his duty and now wanted nothing more than the tender embrace of his blankets.
"Did we loose any knights?" Arthur asked.
"Thankfully no, sire. Though Sirs Meloncamp, Birmington, Cranford, and Reese were severely wounded and are currently being treated by Gaius." Leon found himself saying the words mechanically, staring at a brick behind Arthur's head and struggling to stay conscious.
"Sir Leon?"
"Yes, sire?" asked Leon breaking his intense, brick-focused gaze. Arthur looked at the knight with incredulous concern, but said nothing. He instead addressed the party at large.
"Knights of Camelot, once again you have proven yourselves exceedingly brave and able. My father and the Lord Namington give their thanks," said the prince sounding, to Leon's ears, very like his king father. The knights bowed and shambled out the door of the Great Hall, most limping or clutching one another's shoulders for support. Leon was at the tail end of the pack. Just as he reached the doors, thoughts of sleep already swimming through his dazed mind, Arthur stopped him.
"Leon, take some time off," said the prince pulling off his circlet crown as if to say, 'Leon I speak to you now as a brother not a prince'.
"Did you hear me?" he asked when Leon answered him with silence. Arthur placed the crown back on his head—'nevermind, I speak to you with the iron fist of my father' the action seemed to say.
"Y-Yes, yes m'lord but…what…" Leon started, completely taken aback by the prince's statement. "Have I done something wrong?" he asked humbly.
Arthur gave a small snort of laughter. "Of course not," he answered sauntering over to Leon. He rested a princely hand on the knight's shoulder.
"You have always served me loyally, Leon, but when was the last time you took a break?" Leon gave a look of confusion, and before he could formulate an answer Arthur insisted that he 'take a few days to relax'.
"Camelot will not fall in a week," Arthur assured him as he walked Leon to the door. The knight was halfway down the hall before his mind finally processed exactly what happened.