"Death of the Darkness" (Rose)
"Just put the helmet on, Gwaine!" trying to sound cross, but laughing lightly (and nervously) all the while, I pull the metal contraption down over his blustering brunette mane.
"Fine," he huffs, "But after this is over … I'm coming after you."
"You know, you're not very scary for a knight," I say, pausing at the door of the otherwise empty tent.
He charges at me with the flat of the blade, and I dodge it, closing the tent flap behind me.
Silly though he may be, my tension for the fighting to come has not eased. I just hope he can keep up his vigor for the entirety of the melee. With that thought, I pick up my skirt and make my way to the gathering crowd.
Pushing through the excitement, I feel a warm hand grip mine and pull me along.
"Where have you been?" Merlin quizzes me with worry lines etched all throughout his sharp features.
"Merlin, I must beg your forgiveness for any worry I may have caused you, but right now is not the time to discuss nuances of any sort. All is told in its time, and do please forgive me for my vague and distant speech. Know it is all for the sake of good, especially since you need every bit of yourself concentrated on this battlefield today,"I steady myself, turning my attention, and hopefully Merlin's, to the melee.
He looks on as I do, replying only with, "I trust you," as the horses before us become restless in their movements. Uther raises his hand and brings it down just as swift, signaling the fight to begin.
The bellowing and whooping of the crowd fades away. The horses' hoofbeats become just a feeling, and the clash of every sword sends ringing through my ears like none other.
The warriors begin falling, and falling quickly. I would be terrified if I didn't believe so strongly in Arthur's resilience and Merlin's faithful protection, but I do.
It does not take long for a wariness to set over the whole event. It isn't that the knights are falling, but in the manner they are that unsettles the heart. You can nearly feel the sting of the swords. Something is not right, and it is becoming increasingly clear. My heightened senses suddenly cause me to feel as if I need to leap forward for a reason when Merlin says, "He's heading straight for Arthur."
Sure enough a soldier is plunging forward with the intent to strike him. Instead of my normal reflex of latching onto Merlin's arm in fear, a strange instinct takes me over. I place my hand on his arm to calm him, my eyes connect with the soldier's horse, and a mysterious understanding fills the gap between my soul and the creature's spirit. In response to my inner plea, he bucks his rider to the ground.
Merlin seems to have a clear view of what occurred for he looks on me with something like wonder. A rather relieved and impressed smile adorns his face as he returns his gaze to the melee.
Being the foolish girl that I am, I become painfully aware of the heat rising to my cheeks. But this time, I don't have the liberty of mind to scold myself.
Two more warriors fall, and one stands upon the ground and watches the others in a stance, ready to spring. "Arthur's in trouble," Merlin comments warily regarding the foot-soldier, who, almost in too well of timing, pulls Arthur from his horse. He hits the dirt hard, and the soldier raises his sword with the purpose to kill.
"Move, Arthur," a quiet and desperate whisper passes through me.
Without missing a beat, Arthur rolls just as the tip crashes towards him. Arthur then takes this soldier head on. They swing and they parry, metal clanging against metal, fear ever growing as another in the fight comes near on horseback, arm pulled back, sword beginning its downward swing.
"You'll have to do something, otherwise Arthur will die," Gaius warns Merlin in hushed tones.
Taking a page out of my book, Merlin chooses the more subtle route of causing one of the saddle's straps to rupture, sending the warrior to the ground. Merlin makes a jarring movement of victory, overtaken just for a second, and regains his composure.
There is time for a fast grin, but before laughter can escape me, my eyes flicker from Arthur, still locked in combat, to the soldier now rising from the floor. Once they've surrounded him, Merlin says drearily, "It's two against one."
I wait half a moment to add a comment of my own. "Not quite," I direct his attention to another warrior, pushing himself off the ground. My heart sinks a little to see this other knight wobble ever so slightly. His left shoulder appears to be injured.
He rallies to Arthur, defending his back.
"Who is that? Helping Arthur?" Merlin quizzes.
"I don't know," Gaius responds, just as baffled, adding, "But I think we should be thankful he is."
"Yes, well," I brighten significantly, "He IS rather brave," I say, letting on that I know just who he is in the exact moment that a revealing disarming of Gwaine's opponent gives away his identity.
"There's only one person I know who can do that," Merlin smiles, now in tune with my secret.
Gwaine recovers the false knight's blade and promptly runs him through with it. Alarm spreads through the onlookers like a wildfire.
Within mere seconds, Arthur is struck to the ground, the remaining opposition moves to kill, Merlin readies himself to prevent it, but I stop him short as Gwaine blocks the movement and ends the true battle with the death of the darkness left.
Uther rises to his feet, now untrusting of this warrior, armed with two swords, and one that is made to kill, facing his son.
Gwaine keeps his weapons pointed at Arthur for show. Through the noise of the people around, not even I can distinguish the interaction between the two of them, even if it was clear that it was, indeed, occurring.
Arthur removes his helmet and tosses it to the dusty ground. He lowers his weapon in submission, yielding the field to Gwaine. Gwaine responds by sticking his sword into the dirt, and lifting the visor of his helmet, finally revealing to Arthur who he is. Arthur promptly reacts in humorous disbelief and manages to find me in the crowd with a glance that tells me he now knows that my "leisurely morning ride" had a dual intention. He shakes his head with a broad smile. Gwaine lifts his helmet from his sweaty brow and surveys the cheering crowd.
Upon recognizing him, Uther shouts with rage, pointing furiously, "Guards, seize him!"
"No!" I cry out in protest. A deep anger fills me. Here stands before us, yet another man who saved his son, and Uther still cannot see past the end of his own crooked nose.
"We Will Again" (Merlin)
Rose swiftly jumps onto the field and sprints across it to the restrained Gwaine. My instinct carries me right behind her.
"Your Majesty, please, I beg that you spare this man. I asked him to fight to save Arthur. If you ju-"
"Enough! No one has the right to interfere in royal affairs, especially when they happen to be commoners and law-breakers," he sneers down at her, and a seething rage floods my chest.
"Well, if the King will not save us, we must save ourselves," she defies him outright.
"I have reminded you one too many times to remember your place, child," he steps closer, spitting harshly. "Do NOT make me do so again."
"At the very least, punish me, too!" she cries out.
"No, Rose!" Gwaine calls out.
Uther waves his hand in a dismissing way and storms off.
I reach out and steady Rose, diminishing any further ideas she had of trying to stop the soldiers herself from taking Gwaine away.
"At least let me fulfill my duties as an apprentice and treat his wounds," she turns to the guards, and speaks in a more hushed tone. They nod in compliance. "Take him to the lower hall and leave him unbound. You may remain present if you wish, but his arm needs mending, and I refuse to be in competition with shackles." Without another word, she quickly makes her way to the Physician's chambers. I follow after once more.
"This is all my fault," Rose despairs, looking on in horror as she fiddles with the bandages she's gathering. Her hands are shaking.
"He didn't have to come," I retort gently.
"He did it for me," she says sadly, and that ping of jealousy returns. But then she adds, "And for you … He knows how you care for Arthur, and I think he cares, too - though he may not like to admit it."
Now a feeling of foolishness sweeps over me. With more sense in my mind, I realize why she went after Gwaine. And they both risked much to try to protect me, and to protect Arthur.
"I am grateful," I look at her, attempting to demonstrate non-verbally that I know what she did for my sake. "And I will show him that by getting him out of this the only way I know how."
"How's that?" she asks, sounding rather defeated.
"Bothering Arthur, of course," I grin, turning to run out the door and do just that.
"No need," she gives a small smile. "I saw that look on his face … I would bet that he is already in the King's court petitioning for Gwaine's freedom as we speak."
"You have great faith in Arthur," I comment.
"As do you," she rebuts.
"We really are a crazy bunch, then," I reply.
She smiles sweetly. "That we are."
Moving on in silence, I join her in gathering the items I know she will need. Her shaking hands have steadied some now.
My mind is rarely numb enough to stand my tongue still, but as we reach Gwaine, and even he looks desolate, words do not exist. Yet, I know that our silence itself speaks more than we ever could.
Gwaine attempts to make light of everything, and Rose tries her best not to be unresponsive.
I pace about, brain running over every possible solution over and over again.
"There you are," Rose says quietly, tying off Gwaine's bandages. "If you rest properly, change the dressings, and faithfully clean the wound, you should heal quickly, and your arm will be good as new."
"I dunno," Gwaine teases, "Sounds like too much commitment to me."
Finally, I take a whopping breath and open my mouth to speak, when we hear echoing footfalls.
The approaching footsteps we find belong to Arthur as he steps through the threshold and joins us.
"The King is prepared to overlook the fact that you fought in the melee," Arthur begins.
I release a laugh as pours over me. "That's fantastic!"
"Thank you, Arthur," Gwaine responds graciously.
"But," Arthur pauses in his continuance, "He's a stubborn man. He will not rescind his judgment. You must leave Camelot."
Gwaine nods with a touch of a smile, showing that he was not surprised in the least.
"You got to speak to him, Arthur," my mind sets off in a whirlwind, "Make him change his mind."
"Merlin," Gwaine stops me short.
"I'm sorry, Gwaine," Arthur's countenance reveals a deep regret, "My father's wrong. If it were up to me-"
"I know," Gwaine fills in his words. "You don't need to explain yourself."
"You have until sunset," Arthur spits out the rest.
"And for what that's worth, I thank you," Gwaine half bows.
"It is I who owes the thanks," Arthur extends his hand, and Gwaine readily accepts it in his own. They share a firm shake, and Arthur promptly nods the guards away. "I'll leave you to it," he turns solemnly, leaving a heavy silence behind.
I've never wanted to burst at the seams with words that I simply cannot find until this very moment. I want to find a solution. I want to see Rose and Gwaine smile again. I want to know why she's watching him with that look on her face. I want to make sense of it all.
A strange discomfort settles over the lot of us as Gwaine somberly packs his belongings. It seems that Rose hasn't let her eyes leave his every movement, which sends me into a tumbling numbness. He attempts to fold a shirt of his, and quickly becomes agitated when it insists on unraveling.
As her natural instinct kicks in, Rose fluidly rises from her seat, and takes the garment away, folding it gently with care etched on every line of her skin. She places the finished product back into his hands, and he smiles a soft, sad smile in place of thanks. With that, he begins the finishing touches.
"Where will you go?" I ask with a hint of worry.
"I was thinking Mercia," he replies with the ghost of a smirk.
"It's dangerous," I retort, the worry becoming stronger.
"Yeah," he turns to me with a smile, "And you get a lot more ale for your money." And as I ready myself to look on him with disbelief, he follows with, "I'm joking."
"Why don't you tell the King who you really are? He'll grant you a pardon. You can stay in Camelot." I like the sound of my idea MUCH better.
"I could never serve under a man like Uther," Gwaine says with more reason that I have ever seen in him.
"Yet you helped Arthur."
"He stood up for me."
"I knew he would."
A calm sets in our banter. "That showed he is, indeed, a noble man," Gwaine recedes.
"Then why don't you stay?" I pick the pace back up. He sighs with a smile. "You could be a knight, like your father." He stares hard at me. "You and Arthur, you fought well together."
He lets a small laugh escape. "Then maybe one day we will again." He clamps an hand onto my shoulder, and with that, he saunters out the door, giving us one last nod.
I can't help but grin, as a knowledge that we would cross paths again washes over me.