A/N: Hey guys! I hope you like the new chapter! Please read and review! It would mean the world to me!
Chapter 9: The Battle of Camelot
The castle was clamoring in a way that it hadn't for years. There was a palpable feeling of tension in the air that Arthur didn't like.
It wasn't that Arthur was afraid of a fight, the Lords knew that Arthur had used to get into them just for the sake of it before the Kingdom had become his responsibility. No, if he were honest with himself, it was that this was the first time he was doing this without Merlin with him. That certain amount of brevity that he used to bring to moments where it was wildly inappropriate did more to alleviate his nerves than he had cared to admit before.
But he didn't have the luxury of relying on Merlin to help him, he was on his own here, though he would 100% deny that Merlin did anything to help at all, except for spectacularly get in the way. An army was on its way, intent on bringing him down and Arthur would just have to prepare for anything and everything that would or could come his way.
Arthur was in his chambers, changing his clothes, stepping out of his day to day wear and donning a tunic and trousers that he wore whenever it was imminent that a battle was nigh upon them. Once he had done so, Arthur went to Gaius's quarters, not looking forward to the conversation that he was going to have to have with the man.
"Gaius."
He opened the doors and ducked reflexively when a vial on the table at the far end erupted violently in a plume of lavender smoke. He heard coughing and then spied the old man come ambling out from behind it, waving away the smoke.
"Sire?"
"Gaius?"
"I didn't know you were coming down here."
"Gaius what on earth are you doing?" As the medicine man came closer, Arthur could see that the minor explosion had left the man with some kind of purplish residue on his clothes. Gaius followed the line of his vision and waved away the concern on King's face by explaining his experiment.
"Apologies, My King, I was testing something that Merlin once mentioned to me, as soon as I heard that we might be set upon soon." Arthur raised an eyebrow at that, prompting him to continue. "On one occasion he mentioned to me that certain concoctions, when mixed together, that create a rather incendiary result. If I were to provide our men with them, and they were able to use them as weapons, we might be able to hold off intruders for significantly longer."
Try as he might to find fault with it, Arthur was actually impressed by the way the manservant was thinking. He hadn't thought to use medicine in such a way before and yet here he was. It struck him as ironic that his manservant was still somehow helping him, despite being well and dead. If Merlin were here, Arthur had no doubt that he would be smugly snickering over Arthur's inability to tell him that he had helped.
"Gaius, thank you for making this, but in a couple of hours the entire Kingdom is going into lock down, so with all due respect, I don't care if you're finished or not, when the horns sound, I want you in the inner atrium." Arthur was aware that he might come off sounding a bit aggressive but he continued. "I will not lose another family member, not if I can help it."
Gaius looked back at his workshop and the multitudes of bottles laying there that he had filled and the plethora that remained. Arthur must have read his mind because he repeated his instructions.
"I mean it Gaius. I'm not asking you. If the Kingdom falls, it won't be because there weren't enough of your –" He paused, eyebrows scrunching. "Well, whatever these are. They'll help Gaius, but they won't win it, so you need to be in the atrium. I need you there or I warn you, I will be significantly put out."
Gaius laughed and bowed satirically low. Arthur's point had gotten across he hoped, and he was put at ease by the man's acquiescence.
"Of course Sire. I will come running as soon as the bugles sound." Arthur nodded, pretending not to see the humor in it.
"See that you do." Then there was a moment of seriousness where Gaius looked at the King and clapped a hand on his shoulder, a steadying gesture.
"You will be fine, Sire." Arthur smiled tightly at him and then exited the room, making sure to tell the guard stationed outside to use force if he had to, to save Gaius' life.
Somehow, Arthur had a bad feeling about today.
Gwaine didn't like this. He didn't like this at all.
Not one bit of this was lining up the way it should. Gwaine had seen his fair share of warfare and he agreed with Arthur. He knew the others did too, given the fact that that they all mirrored his own expression as they suited up.
Their expressions were iron clad, and Gwaine knew that Leon especially was most on edge during times like this. As the senior most knight in their company, he felt a certain amount of responsibility. He was the one who rode next to the King at all times, and it was his job to ensure that he was safe. The unusually bold invasion on their Kingdom made it so that the knights could not protect the king in the way that they had been trained to do.
Here in the kingdom, Arthur would not stick to formation because there was no battlefield. He would be trying to be five places at once which meant that they would have no choice but to spread out. In doing so, the knights would not have as tight a grip on him as they would have liked. It was risky but there was no other option.
The Knights beneath him seemed to mirror the tension that pervaded everyone around them. Everyone could tell this was going to be a battle of an entirely different caliber. If bested, they would have nowhere to retreat and make another stand. For all intents and purposes, this was the last stand.
The bugle sounded then, slow, long and mournful. It instantly set everyone to arms, the feeling changing in an instant. Distantly, the low, slow sound of metal on soil reverberated, providing an ominous precursor to visual sighting of the battalion. Another three short bursts sounded on the castle wall, that was it. They had crested through the last of the forest.
Gwaine thumped his shield twice on the ground, which gave the signal to his men to rally up. His comrades, Leon, Elyan, Percival all came to his side, their squires leading their horses aside them.
It was time.
Merlin didn't know if it were his own paranoia or reality, that he swore he could hear the marching of hundreds of knights reverberating through the ground. He tried to ignore it at first, knowing that the Knights of Camelot have everything well in hand and he would bring nothing but misfortune upon them, if he appeared in this state.
He paced around the room, circling the hearth, absent mindedly watching the venison he was roasting. Logically, he knew that they could very well handle themselves. Arthur was an incredible strategist and knew exceptionally well how to use the advantages he had in clever ways. The problem would be the potential for collateral.
If Merlin were reading the situation correctly, he was fairly sure that the King was going to find himself cornered, and that too in such a way that Pelinor's army was sure to use the chance of severe bloodshed as a leveraging point to make the King surrender without fuss.
Though Merlin knew that Arthur would never agree to that - he would sooner die than give up the land and Kingdom his father and forefathers had sacrificed countless lives over. That meant that unless some kind of miracle took place and Arthur somehow managed to procure enough able men to outnumber Pelinor's army, it was highly unlikely that the King would come out of this on the winning end.
The smell in the chamber was now bordering on burnt, but Merlin was only half paying attention. He was captivated, unwillingly toward the room with the mirror. He knew, logically, that there was no way to interfere, without bringing himself to the forefront and revealing his presence.
That was the last thing he wanted to do. His being alive would cause an untold amount of pain for everyone involved. But then he couldn't just leave the Kingdom to its own devices. More than anything else, he knew that had it not been for him, he would have watched Camelot burn to the ground several times over in the time he had been in Arthur's service.
This time, if he sat idly by, he would watch the death of the King he had faked his own death to protect.
It was bloody, and far worse than Arthur had expected. He had grossly underestimated the size of Pelinor's forces. He had been prepared – or so he thought – for the bloodshed that was to follow the meeting of their soldiers but never had he thought it would be like this. Bodies, corpses, lay strewn over the entirety of the battlefield – his Kingdom.
Arthur was by no means a weak stomached man, he had seen enough wars and battles to know the smell of death. But the cruelty of Pelinor's army was unlike any he had ever seen. Add to that the unknown powers of the warlock that they had in employ, and well, Arthur was seeing the outcome of this in a very grim light.
Arthur's own forces held ranks, shaken though they were at the ferocity of the charge, they persevered, despite knowing that they were slowly having to retreat in order to both protect their King and keep the majority of the conflict from the innocent people of their Kingdom, who were hidden not too far away within the confines of the castle.
Arthur slashed at a man coming at him dead on, he wasn't used to going so viciously for the kill but war didn't afford you the luxury of taking prisoners. The man dropped like a rock and still more trampled over his barely dead body to strike.
"Sire!"
Leon's yell was barely audible over the din of metal on metal.
"Sire, we must retreat, we must get you somewhere safe!"
"Somewhere safe?! How on earth do you plan on doing that? This place is overrun with these nitwits! There is no way that I'm running from this! How can I protect my people like that?"
"Hey, Princess, I get that, but there won't BE any people to protect if you drop dead first! They need you to be alive in order to protect them!" Just then, Percival came barreling out of nowhere and began to unceremoniously herd the whole lot of them towards the inner halls of the palace. The place was littered with dead bodies and the injured, but there was no time to pay them any mind.
"Perce, what the hell are you doing?"
"More," There was loud grunt as he swung fully into the approaching body of a man and stabbed him in the hip. "More cavalry. More are on the way, but Pelinor isn't backing down, he hasn't even entered the main gates yet, and his soldiers have already gotten the upper hand."
"We won't last long enough for the cavalry to matter." Elyan yelled, realizing what Percival was trying to say. He threw his hand out in an arc and cleanly sliced off the arm of the nearest soldier, ignoring the screams of pain, kicking out to knock him over to make way for them.
Arthur thought hard and but given the circumstances, he had to reluctantly agree with his Knights. He needed to find some way to withdraw and regroup if he had any hope of winning. No sooner had he nodded his affirmation to Percival then he heard a loud commotion at the opposite end of the grounds.
The whole group stood still and on alert as their vision cleared and Arthur got a clear glimpse, for the first time of his opponent, King Pelinor, entering his Kingdom with an armada of sorcerers who were using their magic to create a deflective bubble around him, making him impervious to any assault.
He was pushing forward with such force that it was near impossible to slow his progression at all. For the first time, since the battle had begun, Arthur began to falter. He didn't know how was to win a war with someone who used magic. His father had made so sure that there remained not even a trace of magic within the Kingdom that he had never truly seen sorcery up close in battle. Even more, he had no idea how to counter act it. The tables had been turned and Arthur could feel that Camelot was holding on by barely a thread.
Pelinor made his way directly towards Arthur and his men, who took one look at the approach and all but grabbed their King, making an educated retreat towards the Great Hall. But even as they entered, Pelinor remained fast behind them and in fact ushered them unceremoniously in. The Knights were very quickly overwhelmed by the deluge of soldiers and fought valiantly against the armada.
Unwittingly, they were pushed aggressively into the original direction they had been heading, except that now the result of being pushed into the Great Hall would no longer be barricading themselves in inside but being trapped inside. Distantly, Arthur heard a dull thud and then the sound of a structure falling. He didn't need to see it to know that Pelinor's forces had broken through one of their walls. Probably the North Wall, Arthur had known going in that that was going to be the weakest part of their defense.
The battle cries of the men around them and the sound of metal on metal caused Arthur's ears to ring, just as he was sure the others were experiencing the same thing. He felt boxed in and out of his depth. A stray club went flying as another soldier lost a hold of it and Leon barely managed to deflect it, raising his shield just quickly enough to have the weapon glance off the edge of it and fall dully at their feet.
Arthur didn't miss the concerned looks his men were exchanging and knew that their options were very quickly narrowing, given that they were now trapped inside the Great Hall and were essentially sitting ducks, waiting reactively for Pelinor instead of proactively attacking, for fear of breaking formation and giving them an opening through which to strike.
Percival took a few hits to the chest while delivering many a blow himself, felling at least 5 men on his own. Elyan and Leon made an excellent team, working fast to try to dismantle the organized blockade that had formed around themselves and their King.
Somehow, without Arthur's knowledge, not only had the blockade formed around them, but it was an impressively dense one. He had no idea how long the battle had gone on for, nor how many people had died during that time. Everything seemed to melt into one long moment. It was just, attack and defend, the same cycle on repeat, for what felt like ages.
Suddenly, a man in full armour lunged at Elyan, who narrowly escaped the pointed blow but as a result was forced away from the tight formation they had created around their King. This man was swift, barely giving the Knight time to retaliate before he was on the defense again. Then, Elyan was thrown off balance by a masterful deflection of a headblow, which sent him stumbling to the ground. With Elyan defenseless, the man let out a victorious yell and swung his sword down, aiming for the final lethal blow. The men around them let out cheers and yells of derision towards the fallen Knight.
But just as Elyan glanced up in shock, Gwaine dove forward, blocking the strike with the length of his blade and grunting with the effort it took. There was no reprieve to feel relieved however, since another soldier emerged out of the crowd to attack Elyan again, hoping to catch him when he was still caught off guard.
He was too seasoned a Knight to stay down for long. Elyan yelled a battle cry and met his assailant head on, swiftly exchanging blow for blow. All too aware, if the looks he was sending Leon's way were anything to go by, that this could not go on for long. Now Arthur had only three Knights guarding him, Leon, Percival and Lancelot, which left too many gaps to adequately defend him.
It was then that Pelinor himself entered the Great Hall. A deafening roar of allegiance went up as he approached Arthur. The King himself now was growing apprehensive when he took in the confident stride of his opponent, and guessed, quite correctly, that the source of his confidence stemmed from the man next to him.
This was most definitely the leader of Pelinor's small army of sorcerer's. He stood with an air of a man that believed himself to be above the world around him, much like the Liege that he served. Whatever sorcery they were using, behaved as a repellent to those around them. No swords pierced it, and no flying projectiles could penetrate through it.
As they approached Arthur's company, he spread his arms out wide and as if they were blown away by a strong gale of wind, his three remaining Knights were tossed away like ragdolls. Arthur remained alone, in the center, holding steadfast to his position, unblinking and unwavering in the face of near certain death.
He knew enough of war to know when he was going to most likely be defeated, and by the looks of Pelinor, defeat would surely mean death. He glanced at his men, now held down by four men each, though that did not mean that they were not struggling valiantly to free themselves.
Pelinor then held up a hand and almost instantly, all noise in the Hall ceased, save for the din of the battle raging outside the walls. He fixed his eyes on the King, standing in the center of his own castle, cornered, battered and bruised. His tunic was torn and his armor askew, with blood smudged across his face. A clear disparity with Pelinor's own visage, clean, well-cut, and not a hair out of place.
"Well, well. King Arthur. I daresay, you look a little tired, My Lord." Pelinor gave a mocking bow, straightening up to see Arthur's expression settle into one clear disdain.
"Perhaps, King Pelinor. One does get dreadfully exhausted when they are invaded by buffoons aided by a plethora of con – artists."
Arthur doubted that anyone but him, who had grown up with Pelinor when they were kids, could see the miniscule twitch at the words he said.
"I see that you've still managed to keep your wits about you. That's good." Pelinor paused, seeming to think. "Yes, I think I quite prefer it." He made a vague motion towards his sorcerer's and suddenly, Arthur's drawn sword flew out of his grasp and into Pelinor's.
The man weighed it experimentally in his grip, testing the weight and swinging it out as though it were a child's toy.
"Hm. So this is the famed Excalibur." Arthur stiffened at that. He caught his own men glancing at each other at the mention of the sword. Arthur knew that the sword was unique but couldn't for the life of him understand why so many sought it. But one thing he did know was that clearly Pelinor had never laid eyes on it, otherwise he would not so easily assume the identity of Arthur's weapon.
Then suddenly, Pelinor swung the sword, bring the tip towards Arthur's throat, his eyes now deadly serious, having lost the playful tone he had earlier.
"You know, I think I've had enough, Arthur." He advanced slowly, and Arthur, having nothing else but his shield and his brute strength, readied himself.
"You've been an eyesore for longer than I can care to admit." They circled each other warily, waiting for the other to make the first move.
"I rather thought we had a working agreement that mutually benefitted us. It pains me to see that I was so clearly wrong about the kind of man you are."
"And, what kind, may I ask, did you think I was?"
"Not stupid at the very least."
That was enough to make Pelinor angry enough to take the first strike, which Arthur deflected easily enough with his shield. The sword glanced off the surface making a horrible clanging sound and Arthur quickly returned the favor with a solid right hook to Pelinor's face, cutting his hand deeply on the ridges of Pelinor's helmet.
The floor was splattered with blood; Arthur's own now joining the blood of countless others. Pelinor reeled back from the blow, stretching his jaw in annoyance.
"Ouch. Now that, I remember clearly from when we were little. You've gotten stronger." He reset himself into an attacking stance, watching Arthur's movements.
"The way I see it. You're the one that's gotten weaker Pelinor. You couldn't face me on your own so you used sorcerers? If I didn't know any better, why I'd think you were afraid of me, Pelinor. I think you know you can't take me on alone."
The curl of Arthur's smirk seemed to get under Pelinor's skin. He bristled at the insinuation. But instead of responding, he just grinned cavalierly at Arthur and motioned to his men again.
This time, Arthur was thrown back, flung on to the ground so hard that his head spun. His vision dotted in and out. When he could focus again, Arthur found himself flat on his back with the point of his own grazing his neck and Pelinor's furious face glaring at him from behind.
"Today, Arthur Pendragon, is the day you die. And with you, the line of the Pendragon's will perish forever!" He yelled this out for the benefit of his soldiers who screamed like rabid animals in assent, clanging their weapons and thumping their chests.
He put a foot on Arthur's chest, and raised the sword high. He could hear the cries of his men, yelling ineffectually in frustration. But Arthur's eyes didn't waver from the weapon. His own sword, being used against him. He would not cower in the face of death; he would not hide from it. Arthur would not show Pelinor that he was afraid.
Death had always been an eventuality, never something to fear. His only regret would to be to leave behind his people and Hunith.
The blade swung down and in that moment, time seemed to freeze. Arthur could see with perfect clarity, the moment of his death approaching.
Then, abruptly, everything changed. Pelinor was thrown off of Arthur, as though vaulted through the air by some unseen force. Suddenly, behind Arthur, a cracking noise was heard, loud and thunderous. The very fabric of the air seemed to rip apart, as though giving way.
And then, it appeared.
In the air above Arthur, opened a void of black obsidian. For a moment, nothing happened. All was quiet save for air in the room whirling violently about. Then, from within the depth of the portal, a figure emerged.
At first, it was impossible to tell what it was. Then, the impossible occurred.
Pelinor stumbled to his feet, seeing that Arthur remained where he was, sprawled on the ground, staring up in shock. Then he looked up to see a great hulking wolf come through the void. It was massive in size. Easily 20 feet in height, and even longer in length from snout to tail.
The wolf was the color of night, so dark that its frozen blue eyes seemed stark against it. It stepped out of the portal and now stood directly over the King of Camelot. Its eyes in it's great big head, seemed to take in everything in the room. It fixed its eyes on Pelinor, standing limply, sword in hand.
Then with it lowered its head, and snarled, lips pulling back to reveal razor sharp canines the size of Arthur's sword. It was protecting him, the invader realized, incredulous.
And in the now setting sun, that streamed in through the broken windows lining the walls of the Hall, Pelinor could a crystal on the mammoth beast's chest, bigger than his own head, glinting in the lowlight.
It seemed now, that the magic he had brought as a guarantee seemed to have met its match.
