Author Note: Hey everyone. I was going to write two chapters and stick them up together, but I eventually decided to just go for one huge chapter instead, so here it is.
Also, I know in previous chapters I've called Aithusa a boy, but since watching Merlin and seeing how feminine she looks (and having Katie McGrath confirm that she is indeed a girl) I've started referring to her as a girl as well. So just a little note in case any of you wonder why she's suddenly changed gender - that's why. Hehe)
Thank you sexystarwarslover for your awesome reviews always, and I hope the rest of you are enjoying it just as much.
...
The sun had just started to set as Arthur stepped up onto a small rocky outcrop to survey the scene before him.
He and his men were at one end of the valley that led to the plains of Camlann, where he had been told that Mordred would be waiting for him. Behind him, tents were being hastily set up, men were sharpening their swords and other various weapons, armour was being mended and adjusted and there was an intensely nervous atmosphere about the entire camp.
Arthur wasn't sure how long he'd been standing there for, watching the empty, darkening plains at the end of the valley, but it must have been a good few hours, at least, as he'd lost himself in thought.
Because the last few hours had given him a lot to think about. The confrontation with Dante and her father, Dante's insistence that she'd done it all for the love of her family, Morgana and Gwen's shock arrival and their revelations that not only had Morgana rescued Gwen, she wanted to HELP Arthur as well, and to top it all off, Mordred's betrayal.
As Gwen and Gaius had retold of Mordred's actions in Camelot, Arthur had glanced to Dante and Morgana, who were deep in a quiet confrontation or argument of their own, off to one side. When Dante looked at him and the pair briefly held one another's gaze, he felt a stab of pain. Because she'd known. Dante had known, all along that Mordred was capable of this, and yet she'd done nothing to stop it.
"I suspected, yes," she'd snapped when he'd confronted her about it. "But by the time I knew for certain, it was too late. Besides, who would you have believed, anyway? A Knight of the Round Table? Or a disgraced and condemned traitor?"
He could see now that she'd had a point. He wouldn't have believed her. Just as he'd never have believed anyone if they'd told him that Morgana would become his ally instead of his enemy, by the time sunset came to the land.
But that is what had happened, and now she was on her way back to Lot's castle to await his return. Arthur didn't know why - he knew that Lot and Morgana were engaged, but he'd assumed it was a marriage of convenience or politics, rather than one of love. But when he'd seen Lot take her off to one side and converse quietly with her, placing a gentle hand on her cheek as he spoke to her in a soft tone, he realised that actually, it was so much more than that.
And that was when Arthur had realised that there was so much he still didn't know, or understand. He thought he'd been pretty clued up on everything. Only now was he realising just how in the dark he truly had been.
Still, Lot's insistence that Morgana leave the battlefield was a surprise, even after he'd discovered their love. Because Morgana was a powerful witch, and not only that, but she was a capable fighter as well. She would be a valuable ally on the front lines, and she could certainly take care of herself, so what was Lot's game? Why send her away now, when they needed her the most? And why did Morgana willingly agree? She was as stubborn and wilful as Arthur himself. He knew she'd never have backed down without a fight, from anything - it simply wasn't in her nature to go quietly. And yet here she was now, being sent home after a few quiet words from her soon-to-be-husband. What was going on?
And then as if that wasn't maddening enough, there was this whole other dilemma he now faced, concerning Dante and her father. Lord Ector had refused to take part in this battle, and had refused to give Arthur any of his men, either. Dante had protested - surprisingly - on Arthur's behalf, but Ector had remained firm and absolute in his decision. So they had stayed in Arryn, and Gwaine and Percival had stayed with them. Arthur had lost two of his best knights, and whilst he still had several thousand following him, he felt like his army had halved in size already.
So now came his dilemma. When this was all over, if he was still alive - and at the moment he couldn't help thinking that this would be a very big IF - then he would have to do something about Arryn and its troublesome Quincailans. After all, he was their High King - or Lot was, depending on which way the voting fell, once this was all over - so to refuse the orders of their High King was treason. Dante was a traitor, he already knew, but he'd never expected Ector to follow in her footsteps.
But how could he punish a whole estate of people, for the actions of three or four individuals?
As the moon rose higher and higher into the sky, someone finally approached Arthur and placed a hand on his shoulder, breaking him from his troublesome thoughts.
"Come to and eat, My Love. You'll need all the strength you can get. And for that you have to eat. No war was won on an empty stomach."
Arthur chuckled at this, then sighed sadly and turned to Gwen, pulling her close and kissing the top of her head.
"This whole thing's a mess," he muttered as she wrapped her arms about his waist.
"Yes it is," she agreed, tilting her head to look up at him. "But shall I tell you something? It'll all work out in the end."
"You know that for a fact, do you?" He smiled gently, resting his chin atop her head as she nestled it back into his strong chest again.
"I do," she agreed matter-of-factly, as though the answer were obvious. "Because you're Arthur. And there's nothing you can't do."
"I wouldn't be so sure about that," he sighed as they stepped apart finally. Then he jumped down from the rocks and helped her down as well. Together, they made their way back to Arthur's tent, in the very centre of the camp, where Merlin had prepared what could potentially be Arthur's last supper.
...
Back in Arryn, several miles away, a lone figure crept down to the stables, keeping to the shadows that the setting sun was casting across the land, heading for Vixen's stall in particular.
Dante could not believe her father would refuse to help Arthur, but all her attempts to persuade him otherwise had fallen on deaf ears. So, as she was so used to doing by now, Dante was taking matters into her own hands. She was going to Arthur, and she was fighting by his side, whether he liked it or not. And no-one was going to stop her. After all, if she'd been waiting for the opportune moment to make amends and redeem herself in Arthur's eyes, then this was it. This was that moment. And she was going to seize it with both hands.
As she reached Vixen's stall, she gently rubbed the velvet muzzle of her faithful mare, before planting a soft kiss on her nose.
"Come on my girl, let's show these boys how it's done, huh?"
"Dante," a familiar voice called from the shadows, and Dante jumped, stifling a cry of surprise. She clearly hadn't been as alone as she'd first thought.
Gwaine stepped out of the shadows. "Where do you think you're going?" he asked, his arms holding a thick cloak closed tightly about himself.
"Same place as you, I'd imagine," Dante smirked as she allowed her own cloak to fall open to reveal her armour - a proper suit of it this time, specially built for her some years previously. She'd been amazed it still fitted her, after all this time, but at the same time she was glad. Made up of plate mail that had been specially designed to be light but strong, it was far better than the chainmail shirt she'd often worn into battle - on the rare occasions when she was allowed to participate, that is.
Why her father had had the suit commissioned for her, she never knew, but now she was glad.
Gwaine grinned and let his own cloak fall open to reveal his own armour beneath.
"You have a plan, I take it?"
"Nope," she admitted as she began to make Vixen ready for the journey. "I figured I'd just make it up as I go along."
"Sounds about right," Gwaine agreed with a smirk as he began to saddle his own horse, Gringolet.
"There is one slight problem," a third voice spoke from the doorway, and both of them spun to see Baudemagus standing, blocking the way.
"Baude-" Dante started to protest, but he held up a hand to silence her, and she could see the glittering of chainmail as the moonlight glinted off his arm.
"You two aren't wearing your ribbons," he continued, holding up two sapphire strips of ribbon. "You can't ride to war without your ribbon."
Dante grinned and took the ribbons from him, passing one to Gwaine. She'd forgotten about the tradition of her ancestors. Because cloaks were out of the question during combat, simply because they were impractical and often got in the way, the knights of Arryn had taken to wearing a single strip of their cloak tied about one arm, or looped through a few rings of chainmail instead. This way people still knew who's side they were representing in the battle without their abilities being hindered. These days, the Knights of Arryn wore the ribbon more for decoration than for any actual purpose, but it was a tradition that they still maintained, none-the-less.
Gwaine tied his ribbon round his upper arm, whilst Dante tied hers round her head - a makeshift hair band to keep her hair from falling in her eyes.
When Baudemagus was satisfied that both were clearly wearing their ribbons, he stepped back out of the doorway so that they could see the small army assembled outside. Dante's eyes flew wide as she saw the hundred or so men all waiting, all wearing armour and carrying weapons of every conceivable shape and size. And each and every man was wearing a sapphire ribbon somewhere on their person.
"Baldy?" Dante asked again, stepping up to him and staring at him in amazement.
"We did not agree with your Lord Father about defying the High King, and when Sir Percival guessed your intentions to run off and join the war, we decided we couldn't let you go alone. So we are yours to command, My Lady," the knight bowed to her, placing one fist to his heart in a kind of salute. Each of the men outside the door did likewise, bowing their heads and placing a fist to their heart - all except Percival who was standing at the very back of the group - clearly visible as he towered over even the tallest of Ector's knights. And he was beaming like an idiot, apparently quite pleased with himself that he'd correctly guessed Dante's intentions.
She couldn't help but laugh then, nodding as she led Vixen out of the stables. "Saddle the horses. All of them. We'll ride two to a horse, if we have to."
"You heard the Lady," Baudemagus called to the men, who all cheered, as stable boys ran to carry out her commands.
Twenty minutes later, a stream of horses charged from the small town, led by Dante and Gwaine and leaving nothing but a cloud of dust in their wake.
...
"We'll rest here tonight, then attack in the morning," Arthur spoke to the small group who had gathered about the table in his tent. His finger was pressed against a point on the map that marked their current location, but his eyes roamed each of the faces standing with him. Guinevere, Merlin, Gaius, Leon, Tristan, Percival, Elyan, King Lot, King Mark and Queen Annis. Mark and Annis had managed to escape Camelot's dungeons after Odin had caused a distraction which had ultimately led to his death.
But the fact that they had escaped meant that his death had not been entirely in vain. Not all of the other kings and queens had been so lucky - Princess Mithian was amongst those still imprisoned - but Mark and Annis had managed to round up a few men each, on their way to join with Arthur, so his army was now a hundred men stronger than it had been, just hours earlier before their arrival. A hundred extra men against Mordred's fifty thousand didn't sound a lot, but right at that moment, Arthur was glad. Every little helps, he'd told them when they'd apologised for not being able to bring him more men.
"You should probably send men out to check these cliffs," Mark was saying now, indicating more areas on the maps. The valley of Camlann was like one gigantic cross, and whilst Arthur's men were within one arm of it, Mordred's men were on the opposing side, and the intersection in between was where Arthur was planning to meet Mordred head on. But this wasn't where Mark was pointing now.
He was motioning to the cliff edges to the sides of both Arthur and Mordred's armies.
"We came through a side path," Annis agreed, adding her own finger to the map and tracing it to show the location of the path they'd used. "It came out behind you. If Mordred knows about it, he'll use it to flank you."
"I don't know if we have enough men to spare," Arthur sighed, shaking his head. "The best we can do is block it off and hope Mordred doesn't actually know about it."
"With all due respect, Sire," Leon spoke up finally. "If there is one passage that flanks us, what's to say there aren't more? I could lead a small team on one side, Elyan could take a team on the other. We could check just to make sure there aren't any more that Mordred could use to gain an advantage?"
"It's getting dark," Arthur frowned, looking out through the open tent flap. "You'll need light to see by, and any light will give away your location to Mordred. If he doesn't already know about the passages, your torches will surely alert him." Before anyone could protest, he shook his head, then motioned to the 'crossroads' in the centre of the valley. "We make our stand here, in the morning, and I will talk to Mordred. Enough blood has been shed. If I can parlay with the likes of Dante and Morgana, and come to arrangements with them, I am hoping I can do the same with Mordred."
"Is that wise, My Lord?" Gaius asked, raising an eyebrow as he tucked his hands up into the opposite sleeves of his robes.
"Talking to Mordred buys us more time to assess the situation," Arthur replied with a slight smile. He was a man with a plan, it would seem. "By distracting Mordred, I can buy enough time for Leon and Elyan to carry out their scouting, in the daylight without need for torches."
The others saw the logic to Arthur's plan then, and with no other options immediately available to them all, they finally agreed that this would be the course of action they would take. They retired to their tents for the remainder of the night, whilst Merlin cleared away the remnants of Arthur and Guinevere's supper. Then, under the pretence of going to wash the plates in a stream just a short way from the rear of the camp, he made sure that nobody was watching, and he hadn't been followed, then hurried a little further away just to make sure, before eventually he stopped in another clearing and raised his head to the skies.
" O drakon, e male so ftengometta tesd'hup'anankes!"
After what felt like an eternity, two shadows swooped down from the skies above, and Kilgharrah landed first, shortly followed by Aithusa. Merlin wasn't sure if he was glad to see the young white dragon, or not - considering his allegiance to Morgana. But then he had to remind himself that Morgana was on their side now...apparently.
"You summoned us, Young Warlock?" The great dragon spoke, in his deep, booming voice that literally shook the ground beneath Merlin's feet.
"Mordred's blocking Arthur's path back to Camelot," Merlin told him, jumping straight to the point. "Arthur plans on meeting him tomorrow to try and talk him into a peaceful solution."
Aithusa snorted and Kilgharrah chuckled. "Does the King not know that this is a pointless task?"
"He suspects, yeah," Merlin replied, glancing sideway at Aithusa. There was something different about the white dragon, but he couldn't work out what. "But it's a distraction so that some of the knights can scout the cliffs. Arthur thinks there may be hidden passages that Mordred will use against him."
"Then the king is not as foolish as he would first appear," the great dragon nodded. "Though I do not yet understand what this has to do with us?"
"I need you to fly over tonight, whilst it's dark, and see if there really are any passages. Because Arthur's men could be walking into a trap."
"Yes, they could," the great dragon nodded. "I can also tell you that help is on its way. Arthur just needs to stall Mordred for another day."
"Help's coming? From who?" Merlin frowned. "Everyone else is trapped in Camelot. There isn't anyone else!"
"Arthur is not alone. And as much as it pains me to say it, I was wrong, Merlin."
"About?"
But the dragon didn't answer. Instead he spread his wings wide. "Help is on its way, Merlin. You must not allow Arthur to fight, this day."
"What does he mean?!" Merlin asked furiously to the young white dragon as Kilgharrah took off into the skies.
Aithusa simply shook her head and tried to speak, but all that came out was a rasp.
"What happened to your voice?" Despite his earlier suspicions about the dragon, Merlin now found himself full of concern.
Aithusa shook her head again, and that was when, for the first time, Merlin saw the scar across her throat.
He remembered the fight that the two dragons had had, after Aithusa's allegiance to Morgana had been revealed.
"You can't talk," Merlin realized, suddenly full of pity for the poor creature.
Aithusa shook her head again, then spread her own wings and took off after the older dragon, leaving Merlin alone in the clearing.
"I'm so sorry," he called into the sky, but whether the dragons heard, or not, was another matter.
...
The next morning, Arthur gathered his inner circle, so that he could speak to them. Gwen and Gaius were also present, even though they would not be fighting. Merlin was there, though he was only partly paying attention, as he was also trying to find ways to stall the inevitable. Someone was coming to help them. He only wished he knew who.
"Have the men lined up at the valley entrance, but several paces apart so that we seem more than we are," Arthur was instructing Leon and Elyan now. "Have the men shout and hammer their shields as I ride to meet Mordred. I want to put the fear of God into him and his men, make them realize what a foolish mistake they are making."
"Yes Sire," Leon nodded to show he understood the orders.
"But don't let them charge, unless you see a sword raised near the white flag," Arthur continued. I do not trust Mordred as far as I can throw him, but we have to at least give him a chance, first. At the first sign of steel being drawn, however, then let the men loose and let them come on like a pack of hungry wolves."
"And let no man sheath their sword until Mordred lies dead in the field," Lot added, much to Arthur's surprise. And everyone else's, judging from the stunned looks he received in return. "What?" he shrugged. "The bastard threatened my wife."
"Soon-to-be wife," Arthur corrected, but Lot shrugged it off.
"Nuance."
"And where is your soon-to-be wife?" King Mark asked as he pushed his way into the circle, barging past Tristan, who shouted an angry protest, but was ignored by the king.
"She is safe, back in my castle where no harm can come to her."
"And why would you fear for her safety when she is a grown woman - a witch no less - with the powers of the Gods themselves?"
"You exaggerate," Lot smirked. "She is only a High Priestess of the Triple Goddess, not a Goddess herself."
"It doesn't matter what she is!" Arthur snapped. "She's not here, so we don't need to worry about her! What we do need to worry about, is him!"
He pointed to the two men waiting out in the no man's land between the two armies. Mordred sat astride a bay charger, King Nantes beside him.
"The traitor! I trusted him!" Lot growled when he saw his former friend siding with the enemy.
"Welcome to my world," Arthur replied ruefully. "Hurts, doesn't it."
"More than I'd imagined," Lot admitted quietly as Merlin led Arthur's horse and his own forwards. Together he and Arthur swung into the saddles, ready to ride forward and meet with Mordred.
"You know what you have to do," Arthur told them as he looked down upon them. They all nodded, and Gwen ran forwards quickly, reaching up as Arthur bent down. The two of them shared a few quiet words, and then a final, parting kiss, before Arthur turned, swallowed the lump in his throat and kicked his horse into a canter.
Merlin fell into step beside him, and behind them, Arthur's army started up its war chant, quietly at first, and then rising louder and louder, like thunder rolling across the lands.
...
"Well, old man," Mordred scoffed as Arthur and Merlin reigned their horses to a halt, a few meters away from him.
"Enough blood has already been spilt," Arthur replied in his most official and kingly voice as he held himself tall and proud in the saddle. "I have come to negotiate a peaceful solution that we may all benefit from."
"Peaceful?" Mordred scoffed again. "Since when has the almighty Arthur, slayer of magic, ever sought peace?!"
"I'll admit, I was wrong to fight against magic," Arthur replied defensively. "I'll readily hold my hands up and admit to that. But what you're doing Mordred? How is this supposed to change my mind about it? How is this supposed to convince me that magic is not the evil that I always took it to be?!"
"This isn't supposed to convince you of anything. This is just my way of ensuring you die, Arthur Pendragon. So that your throne may go to someone more worthy of ruling it."
"Someone like Morgana?" Arthur challenged, his hands clenching the reigns tightly and causing his horse to start fidgeting nervously, sensing his master's growing tension.
"Morgana? She made her allegiances perfectly clear the day she turned on me," Mordred growled. "I was actually referring to myself."
"You?!" This time it was Arthur's turn to scoff. "What gives YOU the right to rule?"
"What makes you the better man to rule Albion?!" Mordred challenged, his own horse growing more and more skittish by the second. "I have Kingly qualities, too! I can be fair and just and merciful!"
"It takes more than that to be King, Mordred," Arthur growled, though he already knew that it was useless. His protests were falling on deaf ears.
"What terms would you settle for?" Merlin called out suddenly.
"Merlin!" Arthur snapped, rounding on his manservant. "What are you doing?"
"Stalling for time," Merlin muttered under his breath.
Mordred appeared to be considering, as they shared this brief exchange. And then he grinned.
"Very well Arthur, you want a peaceful end to this? Then give me half of Albion now, and the rest when you die."
"Done!" Merlin piped up quickly.
"What?! Not done!" Arthur exclaimed.
"Done!" Mordred nodded.
"Undone!" Arthur cried again. "I did not consent to this!"
"Then I'll just kill you now and take it all anyway," Mordred shrugged, reaching for his sword.
Remembering Arthur's words to his men, Merlin knew that if he didn't do something quickly, then things would spiral downhill rapidly. "Mordred wait! Let me talk to Arthur! Please...just give us five minutes? Please?"
Mordred looked like he was about to protest, but eventually he sighed and nodded. "Alright. I'm not completely unreasonable. Five minutes, Emrys."
"Thank you," Merlin nodded, grateful. Then he turned his horse away and motioned for Arthur to follow him. Once they were out of earshot of Mordred, he turned back to the king, ready for the verbal slapping her was probably about to receive.
"What the hell are you playing at, Merlin?!" Arthur growled. "And why did he call you Emrys?"
"Did he?" Merlin asked, feigning ignorance of that particular comment. "And I'm trying to save your sorry behind, that's what! If we can stall them for the rest of today, at least, then by tomorrow, reinforcements will have arrived."
"Reinforcements? Who?"
"I...wish I knew..."
"What? Merlin, you're not making any sense."
"Please Arthur, just trust me. If we can stall the fighting for another day, at least...?"
"By giving him half of Albion? Are you mad!"
"Possibly," Merlin nodded. "But you have no choice. Think how many lives you could save."
"But...but HALF of Albion?! I could understand one kingdom, maybe. But half of Albion?!"
"Arthur, please. My mother once told me a good man acts boldly and courageously during battle to bring victory and spare lives. But a great man would have stopped the battle from happening at all. A great man would have stopped when he knew it was wrong. No matter who was ordering it. You are capable of being more than just good, Arthur. You are capable of being great! So prove it to them now. All eyes are on you. This is your chance to prove what sort of King you will be. Albion needs you to be great, Arthur."
"You know Merlin...for an idiot, you aren't half as stupid as you look," Arthur smirked then as he turned his horse and trotted back towards Mordred.
"Very well," he called out as he approached. "I accept your - "
He got no further, however, as Mordred's horse suddenly spooked, startled by an adder than had slithered past one hoof. Mordred drew his sword and hacked the snake in half.
For a moment there was a deathly silence all around the valley. And then Merlin swallowed.
He knew what was coming next. And there was nothing he could do to stop it.
"FOR THE LOVE OF CAMELOT!" Arthur's men shouted as they charged forwards. Mordred's men leapt into action an instant later, and the two sides charged towards one another - their war cries echoing for miles in all directions, even as Arthur tried to shout his men down and tell them to stop. But it was too late. Nothing could stop them now.
...
The battle had been raging for most of the day, Dante realised as she and her men appeared on the cliff tops looking down into the valley where Arthur's men had spent the previous day preparing. It had taken her and her men a good day to reach the battlefield as they'd chosen to come in from the side so as to reach the top of the cliffs where they would have a good vantage point over both armies.
Evening was falling once again, and a storm looked to be brewing on the horizon.
Out on the plains of Camlann, the battle was still raging on, with bodies from both sides littering the ground and the screams of the dead and dying almost drowning out the clashes of metal against other metals, flesh and bones.
"We should go down and help them!" One of Ector's men called, and several others chorused in agreement, but Dante turned to them all and glared fiercely, silencing them.
"Something is so very wrong with that scene down there!"
"I'll say!" Another of the men called out. "Good men are dying, and we're standing here doing nothing!"
"With good reason!" She retorted. "Where are all Mordred's men?! Morgana and Gwen confirmed that he now has the remaining Saxon forces on his side, as well as the armies of those he has taken captive. His army should outnumber Arthur's five to one. So where are they all?"
"My daughter has a point," Lord Ector agreed, riding to the front and removing the full faced helmet that had been disguising his identity up until then. If Dante was surprised to see her father, however, she had no time to express this, as he stood in the stirrups of his horse so that he may better address the men.
"Mordred's camp is farther to the west. I say we skirt the plains of Camlann, come at Mordred's army from behind and see what he's playing at! Because Dante's right, that isn't nearly a quarter of his men, down there."
The men could not argue with their High Lord, so eventually they all turned their horses away from the battle and began to ride along the ridge towards their new destination.
...
An hour or so later, they came up behind Mordred's camp, and whilst the main bulk of their army stayed out of sight, Ector, Dante, Gwaine, Baudemagus, Percival and Lamerocke crept forward to get a better look.
As if confirming Dante's suspicions, they found the main bulk of Mordred's army sitting around campfires, eating, drinking and playing dice. Every now and then a small group would stagger back from the battlefield and a new group of refreshed, eager soldiers would take their place, charging into the fray with Arthur's men, out on the plains.
"It's a relay," Dante hissed as they watched this happen several times.
"What's a relay?" Gwaine asked.
"Mordred being clever. That's what," Ector whispered this time. "He's held back the main bulk of his army, only sent a small portion of it out. When that group tires, or too many are killed, then he'll send out another small group to replace them, whilst the survivors come back to camp to recover and rest."
"That way, his army can keep the battle going without ever getting tired or demoralised," Dante added. "Unlike Arthur, who's thrown all his men into the one attack and has no-one to back them up now when they get tired."
"So what do we do?" Percival asked, and it was clear he was itching to charge right on in to the very heart of Mordred's camp. It would kill him, of course, but he'd make sure he'd take a good deal of Mordred's men with him before he went.
And this gave Dante an idea.
"We hit them from behind, and we play them at their own game," she spoke, motioning to some of the key features of Mordred's camp. "We attack from the rear. They won't be looking that way, so they won't see us coming. We'll burn their tents, poison their water, destroy their food, let their horses loose so they cannot counterattack and run us down with their cavalry. Loose the horses and hopefully they will panic and cause much destruction themselves, in the process. Destroy their spears, burn their arrows, steal their swords, wreck their bugles and smash their drums. This way, they cannot call for backup, and they lose their voice and coordination."
"Like a wolf pack harrying a bull," Baudemagus realised as they all processed Dante's words.
"Exactly like that, yes," Dante agreed. "The wolves cannot bring the bull down straight away, so they will keep darting in, quick and fast, nipping at his heels, biting his legs, wearing him down slowly in small stages. Eventually the bull will tire and fall, and the wolves can move in for the kill. For now, we are those wolves. Everything we can do to weaken Mordred's men, we must do it. And the officers of his are the most important. I would rather kill one officer tonight than a thousand men. If we can kill their officers, it will confuse and disorient them, because they will have no-one to give them orders. Kill the officers, and the bull will come crashing to the ground, ready for Arthur and his own wolf pack to finish off, on his own terms."
"Most of all, our objective is to put fear into their minds," Ector added. "When men are afraid, they make mistakes. And right now, every little will help."
"We'll attack under the cover of darkness, then make our escape up there, through that passage on the other side of the valley. With any luck it will lead us back to Arthur."
"And if it doesn't?"
"That's a risk we'll have to take," Dante shrugged.
They sat in silence for a moment as each man processed the words of their High Lord and Lady. And then Gwaine nodded, the first to break the silence as he said, "So what are we waiting for?"
"Nightfall," Dante spoke, even as a thick, heavy fog began to roll in from seemingly nowhere. Scanning the battle below, Dante could see no sign of Merlin. But she was willing to bet that right then, HE was the one creating all this fog.
"Change of plan," she smiled, realising that they could use this to their advantage. "They can't see more than a few feet in front of themselves with that fog. If we're doing this, we do it now."
"We go now," the others agreed, as Ector stood and placed a hand on Dante's shoulder, holding her back whilst the others ran on ahead to prepare the men.
"You're sure about this? You do not have to fight. The men won't think any less of you if you choose to stay behind. You don't have to prove anything to them."
"No. But I owe Arthur my life. He saved me when he didn't have to. Now it's my turn to repay the favour." And before her father could say any more, Dante was jogging back down to rejoin the men - surprisingly light and nimble in her plate armour. He just hoped it would be enough to save her from any serious harm.
