It doesn't take long for chaos to ensue within the city. Everywhere there are people, citizens scrambling for safety and calling for their loved ones, dark-armored men roaring as they attack, Knights panting heavily as they furiously defend their kingdom. Torches blaze, barrels crash to the ground, their contents spilling about. The air is pierced with the cries of children and wounded men.
Arthur charges to the center of the courtyard, slicing his way through the sea of enemies. Camelot is outnumbered at least two to one, but he can't stop believing in his Knights, not now. Adrenaline pumps through his veins, making for a somewhat adequate substitute for energy lost by lack of food and rest.
All around him bodies fall. He spins and jumps and ducks, dancing the dance of battle. A sword swings towards his throat, glinting in the pale moonlight. He shoots out a leg and it connects with the hard muscles of someone's leg and down they go, allowing Arthur to send his sword across the attacker's throat before swiftly moving on.
Bodies litter the ground. He treads on one in his haste to move, not bothering to look down and find out whether the fallen is friend or foe. He doesn't have time for that now.
"Sire!" Arthur hears Leon's shout from close by, and he stabs one man before seeking out his senior Knight. He spots him not far away, fiercely fending off two of Cenred's men at once. Immediately Arthur is at his side, driving his sword through one of the offenders, distracting the other enough for Leon to finish him off.
"Thank you, sire," Leon says breathlessly in a moment of stillness before the next wave of attackers come. "I might have died."
"I can't have you dying on me," Arthur says, clapping a hand on his Knight's shoulder. "You're doing well, Leon."
"The same cannot be said for all of us, I'm afraid," Leon says grimly, and Arthur looks at him, inviting him to go on.
"Many of the enemy have died tonight, have they not?"
"Look around you," Leon implores his King, and Arthur does so with an increasing sense of nausea. All around them are men in fierce battle, the shrieks and clangs of metal on metal crying out to mingle with the groans and shouts of the fighters. Arthur squints at the men, and suddenly realizes what Leon is talking about. Many Camelot Knights are on the ground, and Cenred's men continue to invade the citadel, effectively outnumbering Camelot.
"Already we have lost half our men," Leon informs him, "We can't keep this up. We must retreat."
"Where to?"
Leon's answer is cut off by more of the enemy. Two swords come into view and Leon and Arthur block them with their own, metal ringing out as they come into contact with one another.
As night continues, so does the battle, feeling more and more futile to Arthur as he fights and kills. Cenred's men flock to him easily as more of Camelot's knights fall. He takes them all on, suddenly feeling exhausted, looking around at the dead. This battle is already lost, he thinks as he spars with a particularly skilled swordsman. The enemy will keep coming and killing until there is nobody left bearing the Camelot crest.
The battle rages on, and Arthur finds himself without a man to fight. He seizes the chance to look around himself and see how many of his men are living. His eyes track the bodies on the ground, enemy and comrades alike. Blood floods the ground, and countless eyes stare unseeingly at the terrible violence around them.
He scans the crowd and stops short until his eyes fall on one body unlike all the rest. A skinny man, clad not in armor, but in a familiar jacket and neckerchief, lying on his back with a sword wound gaping from his chest.
"No," Arthur breathes, charging towards Merlin, and his voice rises to a roar. "NO!" He locked him up! Hadn't he kept him in the tower to keep this from happening? Merlin shouldn't be dead, he can't be, not now. That tower had only one way out and that was through the door that Arthur locked with the only existing key. It isn't possible...
He stumbles forward, so transfixed on the way Merlin's glassy eyes reflect the burning torches that he nearly doesn't notice the soldier throwing himself at the King from the side. Arthur blocks the attack just barely, knocking the man backwards and driving his sword through his gut. When he looks back at the spot where Merlin lay, he sees a different man bearing Cenred's symbol. A sigh of relief breathes through Arthur, and he turns away.
Arthur tries to keep track of which of his Knights are still alive. More of his men are dead on the ground than upright and fighting. Leon is alive, and he periodically returns to Arthur's side to shout a report of what is going on elsewhere in the city. At one point during the night he informs the king that Cenred has set fire to houses in the lower town, explaining the smoke that scorches Arthur's nose and the bright orange flames leaping up into the sky. Now the courtyard is filled not only with fighters, but with civilians who have nowhere else to run.
He spots Percival and Elyan fighting side by side, working together to fend off countless waves of Cenred's soldiers. Gwaine is fighting solo, driving his weapon through the chests of man after man with a determined scowl on his face.
Fear still buzzes through Arthur's mind from seeing Merlin's death again. Perhaps it was an omen of what is to come, that Camelot will fall no matter what. Perhaps that's what all this has been leading up to. Arthur knows that Cenred has worked with Morgana before. It would not surprise him to learn that all this was all her doing.
With this thought the adrenaline fades away, replaced by exhaustion that stumbles his step and makes his strikes sloppy. Through the chaos, Arthur thinks he sees a familiar flash of dark hair. His gut clenches, but before he can follow, he finds himself surrounded by men on all sides. White-hot pain screams through him as a sword grazes his calf, and Arthur is forced to his knees, sword flying from his hand and clattering just out of reach.
He sways, somehow lacking the resolve to fight back. Thoughts fade in and out of his mind, from sword to fight to Merlin.
He feels the cold tip of a foreign blade press against his throat. He struggles for breath there on the ground, trying to find the will to get away, but it's gone. With a sick feeling of shame, he closes his eyes and waits for the end.
It never comes. Instead, there is a loud boom and a flash of brilliant light, and suddenly the pressure of the sword is gone. Arthur waits for something to happen, but it never does. He tears his eyes open and sees his almost-killers lying on the ground around him, some dead, some still taking their last gasps of air. He sweeps his gaze around the rest of the courtyard. It seems most men have fallen save for the Camelot Knights, the rest twitching there on the stone. Two figures are struggling, not two feet away from him. It's too dark to see anything but silhouettes, but he can make out the rigid outline of the man closest to him, the moonlight glinting off the sword protruding from his back. Arthur watches as the sword is wrenched back, the metal receding smoothly from the other's flesh. There's a thud in the air, more of a vibration than a sound. There's a helpless grunt of pain and then a sigh, and both men fall to the ground, completely still.
Arthur grips at the pain in his calf. He's losing blood quickly, black spots dancing at the edge of his vision. He lurches towards the bodies in front of him, one hand gripping his wound, the other reaching out. Vaguely he's aware of his surviving Knights running about in confusion, the sudden quiet of the courtyard disconcerting. He feels hands pulling at him, voices telling him to rest, asking if he's alright, but Arthur cannot respond. He sways, the dark spots getting larger and larger, before taking over his vision altogether and he passes out.
Arthur gives a small grunt of frustration as he fumbles with his buckles. It's difficult to reach the ones behind his shoulders, but he'll manage. Holding one arm awkwardly out to the side, he attempts to slide the leather strap home, only to have it slip for the fourth time that morning.
"This is pathetic. I'm embarrassed for you," comes Merlin's voice from where he stands, arms folded, leaning against the wall nearby. "Do you need help?"
"No," Arthur huffs, throwing an annoyed glance at his servant. "I'm the King, I am perfectly capable of putting on my own armor."
"I can see that," Merlin smirks, as Arthur misses the buckle yet again. "Just get someone to help you, why don't you?"
"This is something I can do on my own," the King retorts, and with a yelp of victory manages to tug the leather in place. He raises an 'I-told-you-so' eyebrow at Merlin, who rolls his eyes as Arthur starts working on the other side.
"If you had someone helping you, you'd be out on the courtyard by now. You know, where you're supposed to be."
"The people can wait." Arthur says, not looking at Merlin.
"This isn't something they should have to wait for," Merlin says quietly, the jesting tone suddenly gone from his voice. "You need to be a King right now, Arthur."
"I fully intend on doing so, I don't need you telling me that. Besides, aren't you always telling me what a great King I'm destined to be?"
"I believe in your leadership, but this is ridiculous," Merlin's voice is full of reproach, and Arthur tries not to wince. "The people need you right now. You shouldn't be keeping them waiting like this. Lots of them lost loved ones in the battle. You should know what they're feeling."
"I was close to many of the Knights. I'll never forget them."
"That's not exactly what I meant," Merlin says.
"The people can wait just a little longer. A few minutes won't make a difference," Arthur insists, still attempting to shove the leather strap into the buckle. Merlin's response is cut off by the sound of the door opening. Arthur looks up to see Guinevere entering the royal chambers, and his heart twists at the sight of her. She is not carrying herself with the same kind of confidence that she normally does. Her eyes are swollen, and her bottom lip bruised from where she bit into it too much. Poor girl, Arthur thinks, the battle was hard on her.
"My lord," She greets, her voice thick. "It's time."
"I'm aware of that, Guinevere," Arthur tells her. "I'll be out shortly."
"Actually, I was being polite," Gwen says apologetically. "It was time half an hour ago. The people are getting restless. The sooner you deliver your speech, the sooner we can put this tragedy behind us."
Merlin gives Arthur a pointed look.
"I'll be out as soon as I'm ready," Arthur assures her. "I'm just struggling a bit with this armor."
Gwen tuts, then strides over to where Arthur stands. She shoos his hands away from his shoulder, and he dutifully holds himself still as she gently but quickly finishes putting on his armor.
"I know it's hard," she says softly. "It's hard for all of us. That's why we need you."
"I know," Arthur says wearily.
"The battle was horrible," Gwen continues as she grabs the King's ceremonial cloak from where it is draped over the changing screen. "When it was over Elyan came to me, he was traumatized. I think all survivors feel the same."
Arthur stares ahead, and Gwen doesn't meet his eyes as she drapes the cloak around his shoulders and fastens the clasp in the front. "We lost many friends, but we did win the battle, and that should be counted as a victory."
"She's right, you know," Merlin says, still leaning against the wall, watching with interest as Gwen finishes dressing the King.
"We all lost someone dear to us. But you can't let that get in the way of your leadership," she says, finally meeting Arthur's eyes. "When your father fell ill he had you to run the kingdom in his stead. If you stop caring, there isn't anyone to take your place."
"I would never stop caring about this kingdom!" Arthur protests, indignant. Gwen sighs.
"I know that," She says. "All I'm saying is that you need to be a leader."
Arthur sighs. "You're right. Thank you, Guinevere."
She gives him a small smile. "Now come on, it's time to speak to your people."
She turns and leaves the room. Arthur starts to follow her, pausing to glance at Merlin, who is looking at him, eyebrows raised.
"Are you coming?" Arthur asks.
"I'm not so sure I should," Merlin replies. "You might not want me distracting you."
Arthur grimaces. "Locking you in that tower was just a precaution, I'm sorry, alright?"
Merlin throws his arms wide. "Look at what bloody good that did me!"
"It kept you safe," Arthur insists, his voice as low and menacing as he can manage, but instead it comes out sounding hoarse and unconvincing. Merlin shakes his head.
"Come on Arthur, you know better than that."
Arthur glares at him, and Merlin matches his stare. Finally Arthur blinks and pushes past him towards the door.
"I thought you would have wanted to attend the funeral, but I guess not. Fine, stay up here."
"Arthur," Merlin calls, but Arthur ignores him, fleeing the room and slamming the door closed behind him.
The air outside is heavy with grief. Sunlight strains against the thick cloud cover, but its attempts are in vain, made apparent by the thunder that rumbles loudly with the promise of a heavy storm. Probably for the best, Arthur muses. Perhaps the rain will wash away the stench of tragedy. People are packed in the courtyard, every person's face solemn as the procession moves before them. In the center of the crowd on top of a wooden platform, crisp white bundles are placed side by side, each one emblazoned with the Camelot crest and covered with the dark red cloaks of their late owners. Their swords rest on top.
Amidst the crowd of mourning citizens, Arthur spots two familiar figures standing side by side. One is Gwen, her face stained with new tears, her lip trembling as she looks on. Beside her stands Gaius, looking for all the world as though he gained ten years in the last two days. His features are worn with grief, as he silently pats Gwen's heaving shoulder.
Neither of them look up as Arthur takes his place at the head of the crowd. Sir Leon stands near the bodies, a torch in hand, ready to light them after the King's speech. He nods grimly as Arthur meets his eyes.
Arthur twists where he stands, looking up at his chamber window. It is hanging open, and through it he can see Merlin, looking down at him.
Why is that window open? Arthur thinks frantically. He could fall to his death!
But Merlin stares down, his expression disapproving, as though he knows something obvious, and he is waiting for Arthur to catch on. He gives a sad shake of his head and vanishes from the window.
Arthur sighs and turns to address his people.
"People of Camelot. My friends, the recent time been terrible for all. Many of us lost loved ones in the battle. Today we gather to honor those fallen..."
AN: This chapter may have been a bit confusing in terms of the point I hoped to get across. But like I said, this is more of a rough draft before I'll revise and repost. If there's any confusion about this chapter, please let me know! Thank you for reading!