War
A/N: Set before the series and features a teenage!Arthur. Quite angsty and maybe heavy, involving detailed death. Enjoy! Don't forget to review x
The first time Arthur come across the rogue monster that was war, he was only thirteen years old. After training to be a knight since the age of seven, he was now named a worthy fighter for any enemy of Camelot. He rode on a stallion fresh from the snowy mountains and he galloped with his head held high next to father, refusing to let fear grab a hold. He was naïve and foolish, lost in his lust for honor. That was his downfall.
He trotted right up one of many hills of Albion, eyes looking to the downcast sky, a rich abyss of silver only to feel his heart hit the roof of his mouth. He looked upon the ruins of what was recently a battlefield and suddenly, fear overcame him, eradiating from his core and smiling in satisfaction as it did. War was no loner so glorious.
The ground was covered with broken waves of mud, the once luscious grass having been churned up by the feet of men as they charged. Blossoming beautifully among the waves were bodies, lifeless carcasses that were once brave men. Their skin was as pale as moonlight as their blood drained from them, leaving them empty. Their eyes – some were closed, other open while a majority of them had been gauged out in the fight - were glassed over with the film of the after life.
The corpses of the men were but the roots of the plants of war, while the stems were made up of the murder weapons. Arrows stuck up from the mud, looking like they'd been draped over the already dead men as they stuck of from guts, necks, limbs and heads where they'd punctured the men. Spears and swords joined them, erected with little effort. The flowers of the plant were the last wisps of the men that rose up into the heavens to live with the Gods; all that remained of the men.
Their souls never reached their destination, however, as they were tore apart by the demons of the world below ours. Hundreds, maybe even thousands, of black, winged creatures circled the graveyard, shrieking the song of death from deep within their tiny lungs. The crows were grotesque and fat, feeding on the bodies. Arthur felt the rank bile rise up in his throat as he felt sick deep in his gut.
The army strolled through the battlefield, stepping over the bodies without a flinch. They did not care for the dead. In fact, they would follow the trail of bodies til the found the threat they wanted to find. Arthur knew he was going to walk into the creatures that did this and that he would have to defeat them. That was how Arthur Pendragon was introduced to war.
Ever since that day, Arthur fought and fought because the fear that he would become the roots of that poisonous plant and that those demons would be feasting on him. For it was that day that Arthur grew up and became a man.
