Okay, this is my first one-shot and I got this idea a few days ago after watching Highlander. So, I wrote it down and bada bing bada boom here it is. I may be American, but believe me when I say that the Irish dude in my fic wrote himself. Really it was a total coincidence he turned out to be a bit cliche but whatever. The muse writes what the muse wants! BTW, let's just presume that the whole druid thing with the cup of life didn't happen with Leon. It was someone else.
And I know you've all heard it before: I don't own Merlin blah blah blah, no where on my birth certificate does it say I'm the BBC. I also don't own Highlander as it came out when my mom was in middle school so it's definitely not mine. The only thing that belongs to me is Jamie McElhoes.
Read and review please and be kind? Thanks, Here you go!
It was the dead of night in the forests outside of Camelot. Sir Leon had accompanied the prince on one of his extended hunting trips. It was just him, Prince Arthur, Sir Gwaine, Sir Lancelot, Sir Percival, and Merlin. Everyone was asleep, except for Leon as he was on guard. It wasn't like they were expecting anything, but you could never be too careful.
Leon was just tending to the fire, when he noticed that the forest was completely silent. Just because it was the dead of night, does not mean the forest was dead as well. Standing up cautiously, Sir Leon looked around with alert eyes, and drew his sword from its scabbard.
In a firm, commanding voice, the knight demanded, "Who goes there?"
His only answer was a dark, amused laugh from behind, past the bushes on the outskirts of the camp.
Leon spun around immediately with his sword at the ready, and pointed it straight at the laugh. Then he heard something that he didn't think anyone else knew.
"Have you ever wondered why you've never died in those fights and battles, Leon? Especially, since you always seem to get fatally injured, yet you always recover. Hmm, if I didn't know any better I would say that it's a kind of magic." Then the mysterious voice with the Irish accent stepped out of the shadows chuckling, and with a wink, shrugged and said, "But what's wrong with recovering quicker than normal, eh? Why should a sword to the abdomen slow you down, anyway? You just get right back up and keep on fighting. Don'tcha, Leon?"
Leon looked at the man who had shaken him to the core. The Irishman looked to be thirty-something, and he was definitely strong looking; not to mention, he was the tallest man Leon had ever seen. This guy was around 7 feet tall, with hulking muscles that bulged beneath the surface of his skin. He had shoulder-length flaming red hair that had multiple plaits, and didn't look like it had been washed recently. His eyes were a striking emerald that pierced the soul. His face was rough looking, and he had a shadow of a beard. His mouth was quirked into an amused smirk. The skin of his arms had scars marring their slightly tan complexion. The man had on a white tunic with a leather vest and trousers. What really caught Sir Leon's attention was the beautifully crafted sword in the man's hand. The hilt was carved of ivory, in intricately detailed designs of dragons, griffins, and basilisks. On the bottom of the hilt, was the finest red ruby he had ever laid eyes on. Two identical emeralds rested on either side of the top-part of the hilt. The blade itself was mesmerizing. It had delicate engravings going along the devastatingly sharp double-edges. You could even see your reflection in it, when it gleamed in the firelight.
Nevertheless, NO ONE knew of Leon's special ability. From a young age, Leon had known that any injury he got, healed quickly. Very quickly. He had never told anyone, and had accepted it as a gift from God. But he wasn't stupid. He knew it would be perceived as sorcery, and that was a very dangerous thing to be accused of in Camelot. How did this man know his secret?
Shaken, Leon inquired, "What are you talking about? Who are you?"
The man tsked, and replied, "I'm sorry, my bad. I forgot to introduce myself. My name is Jamie McElhoes, and I think we both know what I'm talking about."
The knight raised his chin , and told the Irishman, "Unfortunately, Jamie McElhoes, I am afraid I do not know."
Jamie's features showed fake disappointment. "Oh well, pity you don't because I had an explanation for your luck."
With his curiosity piqued, Leon couldn't resist. "Suppose I did know. What would you tell me?"
Jamie grinned victoriously. "Well, Sir Leon, Knight of Camelot, I would say: There can be only one."
That was the night Sir Leon discovered his two goals in life: to keep his head and get the prize.
See I told you he was cliche haha, but if you could leave your comments for my perusal it would be much appreciated! Shirtless Bradley James for any one who does!