God With Us

The old oak door groaned open, the singing of steel and cries of men piercing the silence of the church. Two young men staggered in, one with an arm slung around the other as he was half-dragged, half-carried into the room. He was bleeding copiously from an axe wound to his head and looked half dead for it.

"Nurse! Someone send for the nurse!"

But the place was empty. Arthur shut the heavy door behind them as best he could, then heaved his bloodied companion over to a pew and dropped him into the seat. He ripped off his gauntlets as Gilbert slumped back with a quiet moan.

"Gilbert, look at me, open your eyes," Arthur said urgently, mopping up the sticky blood with his sleeves. He must have brushed against the wound, for Gilbert let out a hiss of pain and jerked from his touch.

Arthur looked wildly around him, desperate to find someone or something of use. This was a healing place, after all, a makeshift hospital for the wounded. But the church was deserted. The healers must have fled before the battle, and taken all their tools with them, by the looks of the place. They have even taken the candles with them. All that was left were the rows of wooden pews, and the giant crucifix on the altar hallowed by a colourful light streaming through the stained-glass windows.

To think there could exist such a peaceful oasis amidst everything.

He turned back to Gilbert, his eyes prickling with sudden helpless tears. His hands took to loosening Gilbert's armour of their own accord, fingers fumbling with the leather straps of his chest plate, when Gilbert took them and pushed him away.

"Don't think we have time for a last tumble," he said with a weak grin that twisted into a grimace.

Arthur stared at him in disbelief. "What – I – there's no time for your stupid japes!" he said, heat crawling up his face. "We've got to get you out of your armour and see to your wounds, we've got t–!"

Gilbert cut him off with a kiss. Arthur made to struggle, but Gilbert pressed a bloodied hand to the back of Arthur's head and kissed him deeply. The world continued to rage around them in a storm of destruction, yet it all melted into the background, all but forgotten in the heat of passion.

As they finally parted lips, Gilbert said, "Now listen to me. You have to leave me and run."

"No!" Arthur bristled at the very suggestion, but Gilbert pressed on.

"It's you they want, Arthur, dead or alive. And I'd sooner have you alive and well on your way from here than die on my watch."

"Then come with me," Arthur pleaded.

"I'll only slow you down, you have to leave me."

"I won't leave you, Gilbert, I won't!"

The tears fell then, a salty trickle tracking clean lines down Arthur's dust- and sweat-stained cheeks. Gilbert thumbed away a rolling tear, smearing half-dried blood across his cheek.

"You have to," he said, with the faintest of smiles.

They found him sitting alone at the base of the stone steps leading up to the altar, broken and half-drained of blood. The man he took for their captain swept him a contemptuous look before gesturing for someone to come and finish him off.

A foot soldier stepped forward with a loaded crossbow.

He closed his eyes.

Gott mit uns.

And slowly, he smiled.

Author's note

Something really old from years ago that I never posted. It was agony cleaning it up. Hope you enjoy :)