Win or Die

Disclaimer: I own none of the King Arthur characters. I only own Sansa.

Part 1

Chapter 7

It took Sansa what seemed like forever to find her brother. She had begun to wonder if he was one of the corpses on the ground that she had paid no attention to in her search for Cynric. But she found him. And the sight of him brought no joy to her heart- only icy panic that clawed at her insides.

Cynric was pointing a crossbow at Lancelot, who was fighting two men, leaving his torso completely vulnerable. "CYNRIC!" Sansa screamed, breaking into a dead sprint, her bruised and battered body protesting loudly at this.

Cynric either didn't hear her or ignored her, his finger pulling the trigger just as Sansa collided with him, making him jerk to the side. With baited breath, Sansa watched the bolt fly from the crossbow, flying across a fire, and embed in the man directly to Lancelot's right.

Lancelot whirled around at the scream of the man next to him, glaring across the fire to see Sansa struggling with her brother over the crossbow. His eyes widened at the sight of her. "Sansa!" he shouted, trying to move past those who engaged him in battle to reach her, but it was slow-going, at the very least.

"That was your Knight!?" Cynric demanded, as Sansa began to move away from him. She didn't answer that question, her brows furrowed.

"I am going to challenge Father, Cynric. Are you with me?" Sansa questioned him. Cynric regarded her with wide eyes.

"That is suicide, Sansa! You can't!" He exclaimed, grabbing her wrist, only for Sansa to shake him off.

"He ordered Raewald to kill me, brother. And he would have succeeded, if one of the Knights hadn't saved me," Sansa spoke quickly. Time was short, she thought, but couldn't exactly explain why.

Cynric's face contorted in rage. "Tell me he's dead or point me to him," he snarled, turning to glance around.

"He's dead, Cynric. I'm going to find Father. Are you with me or not?" Sansa questioned. Cynric's hesitation was all the answer Sansa needed. Sansa turned away from him, beginning to walk away.

"SANSA!" Came Lancelot's shout. Sansa whirled around, without meaning to, to see Lancelot attempting to reach her, pushing through the fray. Sansa knew if Lancelot reached her, there was no way he'd let her confront her father- and she'd lose all motivation once she was in his arms, she was sure of that.

She looked at Cynric. "Tell him I love him," She requested, before she turned again, disappearing into the fray.

"No! Sansa!" Lancelot yelled from the distance. The look in her eye when she saw him- it was resigned. And that put fear in Lancelot's heart.


Sansa felt detached from her own body, as if she was watching herself from another's perspective, as she grew closer and closer to where her father fought. It was a profound feeling that she had, the anger burning in her breast, the dread and fear of facing her father, all mingling into one stomach-turning, nauseating feeling.

But her feet kept moving, putting one in front of the other, leading her ever closer to him. Sansa recognized her father's current opponent, and realized things did not go well for him at all. Tristan had just been disarmed, and Cerdic was pulling him from the ground by his hair, putting Tristan's own sword to his throat.

Sansa knew what followed next. She had seen this too many times to count. Sansa moved forward, holding her sword out, till it nudged her father's back. Cerdic stiffened, unmoving. "Release him. Alive. And fight me," Sansa ordered, her voice strong, masking the fear and uncertainty.

Cerdic drew his sword away from Tristan's neck, releasing his hair, and the warrior collapsed to the ground without a sound. Slowly, Cerdic turned around, watching as Sansa back away. "Are you challenging me, girl?" He asked, his voice low and deadly.

Sansa swallowed, before steeling herself. "Yes, father, I am challenging you," Sansa responded, her voice miraculously unwavering.

"Then it will be your death," Cerdic remarked, seeming not entirely surprised by it.

"Or yours," Sansa retorted, the pair beginning to circle each other. It was apparent to anyone who might have been watching, that the Princess was grossly outmatched by her father. Which leads them to wonder…what in the hell was Sansa going to gain by doing this?

Sansa was the first to strike- but the blow was easily blocked by Cerdic. He responded in kind, landing a blow on Sansa's arm, as if trying to disarm her. Sansa cursed, keeping a firm hold on her sword's hilt, as blood began to gush from the wound.

"Why not surrender, child? You know you cannot defeat me," Cerdic taunted, chuckling as if to humiliate her further.

Sansa glared at her father, her cheeks reddening, feeling the hilt of her sword grow slick in her hand, as blood flowed down her arm.

The pair, father and daughter, traded blows, each blocking, until Sansa managed to land one on his already injured thigh. This coaxed a crow of anger from his lips, and quicker than a snake, his sword whipped through Sansa's defenses, cutting a deep line across her torso.

Sansa reeled back, yelping softly, and was slow to raise her sword back to her defense, allowing Cerdic to drive his sword into the soft flesh of her belly.

Sansa looked down at the sword embedded by inches into the left side of her stomach, with a detached sense of shock. A whimper escaped her lips, and a tear fell from her eye. Cerdic almost seemed surprised- as if he hadn't meant to end it so quickly.

Cerdic yanked his sword from Sansa's belly, causing her to fall to her knees, her sword forgotten on the ground beside her, her hands moving to staunch the blood flow. She raised red-rimmed eyes that were spilling over with tears to Cerdic.

"Father…" She said, in a pleading tone, as if asking him to end her agony.

Cerdic raised his sword above his head. "A whore traitor like you is no daughter of mine," He said calmly, before he let the sword fall.