"Overwhelmed" (Rose)

After a quiet dinner, I retreat to my bed, sitting down and tucking my knees up to my chest and holding them there, trying to will away the chill of the late evening breeze. My thoughts seem to scamper away with the passing seconds, spiraling within my mind mercilessly. My eyes glued to the sheets from which they never drift away, apart from a few inches of space here and there. A caring hand presses against my shoulder, causing my tightened body to jolt.

Merlin sits behind me with his legs over the side of the bed. "Are you alright?"

I keep to myself for a moment, pondering. "I've never seen so many soldiers," the hushed words slip past the barrier of my lips off the tip of my tongue.

"Well, our army is far more skilled. Numbers do not win wars," he turns to compensation through encouragement.

"Have you seen them all fight?" I bring his statement crashing down.

"Well, no ..." he admits.

"Merlin," I sigh sadly. "The only occurrence in my life that even comes close to a siege is when my clan was murdered. There were maybe ten soldiers in that party, and just over double that in my clan. If that little can wipe out an improperly prepared people that quickly ..." I do not finish. I don't think I even can. My heart sinks to the floor as my feelings rip me up inside like the slashing talons of an attacking bird of prey.

"I won't let anything happen to you," Merlin promises.

"I do not worry for myself."

"I know. I do that for you," I hear the slight smile in his voice. He angles himself more towards me, casting a protective, loving arm around me. "Although it seems we are overwhelmed, I don't believe that this is the end. Perhaps, we'll come out on the other side with a few scratches and bruises, but that's a much happier turnout than the alternative. Arthur will come through. Camelot will come through. You will come through."

"I'll come through if you do," I bargain with him, extended a hand to shake.

He takes it with firm tenderness, "I suppose I can do that."

"Coming" (Merlin)

With the rising of the sun and more duties thrown at me than usual, the overall feeling of doom sets in the atmosphere with laden spirits all around. I hop up and down the steps to the left of the castle entrance bearing sacks of supplies.

"Merlin," the Prince's voice annoyed voice rings in my ears, "Where have you been? I've been calling- for you ..."

I look over my shoulder at his perplexed expression with a ready answer, "Gathering provisions ... twenty-five salted cod, fifteen dried capons, and one smoked boar." I point to the last brown lump of stuffed material down the stairs.

"What on earth for?" he questions.

"We're preparing for a siege," I remind him with confusion.

"Yes, not a banquet," he says with a hint of an indignant sarcasm.

"You know what you're like without food," I quickly counter. "We could be trapped in here for weeks- months, even. Look what I've got you for your breakfast." I turn and grasp the jar on the windowsill. "Your favorite," I hoist it up in display, "Pickled eggs."

He raises his eyebrows in disbelief and looks down at me with widened eyes and slightly curled lips.

"How very kind of you, Merlin," Rose chimes in from behind me, making Arthur roll his eyes with a hint of a smile on his lips.

"Yes, he is the picture of thoughtfulness," his comment drips with jest.

"That he is," she walks up, positioning herself next to me, smiling with sincerity. "I've come to offer my assistance in whatever way you deem fit, my lord."

"Thank you, Rose," he replies, sounding genuinely touched. "I could use your eye for order and completion right now, actually. We will be conducting a thorough overseeing of the defenses and supplies."

"We?" I cut in.

"Why would you even ask?" Arthur responds in a bored tone. "Have you more various food items to pickle?" She giggles at his joke, and I laugh a bit, too.

"I suppose I can leave that for later," I forfeit with a chuckle.

With our new recruit, we join ranks with Sir Leon, charge through the place, checking this and that, making sure this was set up, and that battened down. Once the inside is cleared, we continue to the outside walkways.

"Has everyone from the outlying villages been given shelter?" Arthur asks with brewing concern.

"As best we can, sire," Leon replies dutifully. "They amount to almost nine-thousand so far, but they're still coming."

Arthur follows this swiftly. "How long will our provisions last?"

"Depends, sire, on what losses we sustain," Leon's tone drops a little.

"Cenred?" Arthur peers over his shoulder with an inquisitive glance.

"Our scouts report he'll be upon us in a matter of hours," says Leon, causing Prince Arthur's pace to slow and halt with such a dark thought. He goes on with a sway, picking up speed with every step.

Leon, Rose, and I exchange a look of pressed understanding before carrying on ourselves. The knight parts ways and attends to his men as a horn blares in the distance. "I assume the next sight we'll be taking in lies over the city walls," the girl sighs.

I nod with a heart full of regret, "I'll meet you there ... I have to alert Arthur."

I surge forward back through the castle and find Arthur in the King's chambers bent over his father's bedside. "Sire," I call to him, disturbing his thoughts certainly flooded with sorrow and anticipation of defeat. "It's time."

With a clenched jaw, he sucks in a deep breath through his nose and rises from his seat. I watch him as he hesitates to leave his father in his desolate condition. He tenderly touches the king's hand before departing. As he leans over and says in a whisper, "I promise, I will not let you down," to Uther, I almost flush with embarrassment with the feeling that I am entirely intruding on an important father-son moment. The thought actually stings that I never really had the chance for such a time with my own father ... Such thoughts of what could have been don't seem to do anyone much good at any given time, so I push them aside as we head for the lookout atop the castle wall.

Rose stands there with an unmoving look of grief on her porcelain face, the loose strands of her tied back hair floating away from her face. She hasn't worn her hair down since settling in Camelot. It is now always pulled back and to the side, the curls of her crimson locks resting over her right shoulder, showing that she is diligent in what she does and doesn't want her hair getting in the way of her work. She often has stray strands that hang down the side of her face that she will push out of her eyes while pouring over the words of a new book or fiddling with a project, but sometimes she leaves them out and even surveys them. The look in her eyes, when she does, tells me that she is remembering the way things used to be when her vision could be clouded by her wild curls and it wouldn't matter, because nothing did other than her father and their people's happiness.

I come to my place between her and Arthur, standing, gazing out at the massive army with banners and torches raised high, their dark uniforms bold as shouts of anger over the newly trodden grass near the hills. The war cries resound in the air with strong din, our eyes darting to and fro from enemy to enemy. Not one of us utters a single syllable as we linger briefly and separate ourselves from the post. We all know that battle is coming, and too fast for our liking.