So here it is. I know that summary is really lame, but hopefully the story won't be. This first chapter was inspired by my Master, AthenaLeigh, and her Russian henchmen. But that's something totally different, just know that part of it was inspired by her haha. Well, since it's the holiday season, I will be having time for awhile to write, but once school starts again, I am not promising regular updates as I'm really jumping out of my comfort zone and taking honours GASP. That's some way off, I just thought I'd mention. Anyway, talked long enough, enjoy and Happy Christmas! (since it is Christmas Eve after all..or almost)
Myth
Chapter 1 – Mythical Dream
Arthur awoke suddenly, jolting up in bed, his breath coming in short gasps. Sweat covered his face and he looked around the room, eyes wide. The visions were still too clear in his mind. Arthur ran a shaking hand through his sleep-tousled hair, he could still hear his heart pounding in his ears.
It had been the fifth night in a row that the dream had haunted his sleep. His breathing slowing, Arthur leaned back against the wall next to his bed, letting his head rest on the cool stone. It had seemed all so real. He reached one hand over and touched his side, feeling the still sensitive scar under the fabric of his tunic. The dream had made it felt as if it had reopened; the scar burned. Arthur closed his eyes, it was all in his mind, he had to let it go. He unintentionally drifted back to sleep, propped up against the wall, and again his mind entered the land of dreams.
"Arthur Castus…"
A voice out of the darkness called to him. But there was nothing there in the void.
"Arthur Castus…"
He stood there, Excalibur in his hand. "Who are you!" Arthur shouted into the emptiness. There was no answer, not at first.
Fire suddenly sprang about him in a ring, Arthur spun around, Excalibur held out in front of him, ready to fight. There was no one to fight, only the fire. He could feel the heat of the flames all around him, he had no escape.
"Arthur Castus…"
A wind blew past him, pulsating…like the beating of wings. Arthur stepped back, his eyes wide, sword held in front of him defensively. A red shape formed above him, coming closer. It flew past, the wind from its wings disturbing the flames. Suddenly, it dropped down inside the circle, towering over Arthur. A dragon.
With an inhuman cry, the dragon lunged forward, but flew off again, making a sound that Arthur assumed as laughter. Another image appeared; a figure standing outside of the fiery ring. "Arthur…" Lancelot reached for him, stumbling forward and then collapsing, an arrow stuck in his shoulder.
"No!" Arthur screamed, but he couldn't get past the flames. The knight looked up one last time, his face pale. And then his eyes closed. Arthur shouted at him again. But instead of Lancelot, the dragon returned. An arrow came out of nowhere, striking Arthur's arm. He suddenly felt as if all of his old wounds had reopened. Falling to his knees, he looked down at his side, where the scar was. Blood now spread through his tunic. Gasping for breath, Arthur dropped his sword. The dragon grinned as it reached for him.
"Arthur Castus…"
Lancelot's boots ground on the small rocks and dust that were scattered about the stone steps leading up to the top of the wall. It was usually quiet up here, except for the sound of footsteps. The young knight had seen his captain sitting up here for sometime, in his favourite place of thought and reflection. Of course, it usually also meant something was troubling him.
Sitting down beside Arthur, their feet dangling over the edge as usual, Lancelot commented, "Anything changed since you were last up here?"
Arthur managed to smile slightly. He looked tired to Lancelot's dark brown eyes, they noticed every detail. "That blade of grass over there is gone," Arthur replied, motioning to the field that was far below them.
Lancelot snorted, "Just that one?"
"Aye."
Looking down at his hands after a moment, Lancelot sighed. "You look tired," he said softly.
"I haven't been sleeping well…" his friend trailed off, looking up at the sky.
"If this is about Marcus…" Lancelot started, turning his brown eyes upon him, "Arthur, we've talked about this, you don't have to-…"
"It's not," Arthur interrupted. He sighed, closing his eyes, "I just haven't been sleeping well."
Lancelot shook his head, "No, I know you. There's something else too. Please Arthur, I only want to help."
The Roman sat for a long time, perhaps hoping that Lancelot would forget about it, the knight thought. Finally, he rubbed his face with both hands, closing his tired grey eyes, and said, "A dream, that's all."
"Nightmares?"
"Yes…" Arthur sighed, his voice becoming quieter, "The same one." Lancelot's brown eyes softened in sympathy and he wrapped a supportive arm around Arthur's shoulders, as his friend had often done for him. Arthur knew it was Lancelot's way of telling him to continue, but he didn't want to. He didn't want to, but he knew he should. This had been left boiling inside him for too long. "There is nothing…a void," he started, "And something calls my name. Then fire creates a ring around me, I can't escape…there's..a dragon. And you, I saw you, Lancelot. You-…" He couldn't finish the statement, Arthur's eyes stared off into the distance.
Lancelot whispered to him gently, rubbing his shoulder with his thumb, "Then what happened?"
"An arrow came out of nowhere and struck my arm. It felt like all of my old scars opened up and then the dragon came…" Arthur shook his head, that was enough for the knight beside him.
"Well, it's just a dream, Arthur," Lancelot whispered, "Just a dream." There wasn't one knight there who hadn't at least had one nightmare, and there were many that the dreams frequented. Lancelot was one of them, along with Galahad, who was known to wake up screaming sometimes. But Arthur was different, his dreams rarely made their presence known.
"I know it's just a dream," he replied, "I've been telling myself that for five days."
"Then maybe you need to take your mind off of it."
"That's easier said than done, you know that."
"Then I'll help you take your mind off of it, let's go for a ride," Lancelot offered, a small smirk forming on his face, "I'll race you."
Arthur looked over at him, poking a finger into Lancelot's side, "Will you now?"
"Gah!" the knight laughed, pushing Arthur's hand away, "Arthur!"
Echoing the laugh, Arthur knew Lancelot's very closely guarded secret and proceeded to poke his ticklish side again, getting swatted by his friend. Lancelot, however, knew better than to stay around and jumped up, running down the length of the wall, still laughing. Arthur trailed close behind. They bounded down the stairs, Arthur's long legs making up for Lancelot's head start, and soon he was close enough. Wrapping his arms around the knight's chest, Arthur pulled him down, wrestling around until the younger man was pinned.
"That's not fair!" Lancelot protested, "You're bigger!"
Arthur laughed, releasing him from his grasp and ruffling his curly hair, "Of course it's fair."
"It's not fair and you know it…but I'll still beat you to the stables!" Lancelot bolted up, racing through the fort, laughing the entire time. Arthur chased him, the dark dream temporarily forgotten.