I Dare You to Move...

Guinevere wiped blood from her face as she looked up from the dead Saxon. All around her, people were dying. Some were dying for their country; some dying because they were ordered to. Adrenaline had her tense and full of battle lust. She caught sight of an impressive fighter. The Saxon's son. His sword tore through a Woad. A daring thought entered her head. She'd kill him.

The Saxon turned to suddenly find a female Woad attacking him. She was feisty and quick and landed a few quick but glancing blows to his shoulder. She was like an annoying fly. He would squash her. He blocked a blow from her and she leaped back. They circled each other like wolves. She clashed her double blades together in a challenge and then charged...Only to be knocked back by his shield. They engaged in a battle where he called the rules.

Welcome to the planet
Welcome to existence
Everyone's here
Everyone's here
Everybody's watching you now
Everybody waits for you now
What happens next?
What happens next?

Lancelot finished off the Saxon and looked around for any others. But before anything could attack him, he saw her. He saw her being beaten savagely by that Saxon second-in-command. She was losing. He looked over to Arthur. The British Roman had not seen. He would not. Lancelot looked back and saw her reel from a vicious blow. He had to get to her.

I dare you to move
Idare you to move
I dare you lift yourself up off the floor
I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened
Today never happened before

Her back slammed into the ground and she looked up at her bearer of death. This was it. This was to be her demise. Guinevere saw the knights; Bors, Dagonet, Tristan, Galahad, Gawain, Lancelot. But the one that had made the biggest impression on her had been Arthur. Arthur Castus, a man both Roman and Britain. A man she pledged her love to. Yet...he chose his allegiance to Britain. Everything was moving in slow motion. The Saxon raised his sword over his head to bring it crashing down to end her life. But the pain of the sword was not brought. Its fall came to a halt as someone knocked it back.

Welcome to the fallout
Welcome to resistance
The tension is here
Between who you are and who you could be
Between how it is and how it should be

The next thing the Sarmation knew was that he was on his horse, his helmet was gone, and he was going to save Arthur from something worse than death; heartbreak. He knew that if he didn't do this, he would live to regret it. Lancelot urged the horse faster. The brave animal plunged through the wall of fire and the knight leaped from his back to the ground. The Saxon was about to take away the life of the woman that Lancelot found to be a mystery. The Woad girl, Guinevere. He had told her that he would have left her at Marius' estate. He had told her that he had killed too many sons to have any right to his own. He would have left her and the boy to die. He hoped that she would forgive him. He had told himself he would save her; no matter what. His one goal was in front of him. The Saxon's sword fell and he stopped it.

Maybe redemption has stories to tell
Maybe forgiveness is right where you fell
Where can you run to escape yourself?

Guinevere came out of her reverie and rolled away from the duel. She was on her knees when she saw who it was who had courageously blocked her death blow. It was Lancelot. He forced the Saxon back away from her with a force that couldn't have been driven by an ordinary goal. She could tell that if that Sarmation fell, that Saxon would fall as well. He took a hard blow to the face by the Saxon's shield and fell back. He dodged the next blow and then returned with a hit that took the Saxon off his feet. Lancelot moved to finish him but another opponent took his attention. Almost simultaneously, one took her attention as well. As her focus went away from Lancelot, that Saxon picked up a fallen crossbow.

Lancelot finished the other Saxon and spun around to face the first one when the fatal blow hit. It entered the center of his chest and struck his heart. He saw the Saxon smirking at him a few feet away. This couldn't be it. This CAN'T be how he died. He swore he would take that Saxon with him. Screwing up his face and fighting the pain in his heart, Lancelot threw his sword.

Where you gonna go?
Where you gonna go?
Salvation is here.

The Saxon smirked as the knight stared at him, speechless to the crossbow bolt that he had shot into him almost at point blank . So much for the brave hero. What happened next though, he hadn't expected. The knight threw his sword, lodging it in the same exact place.

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
I dare you lift yourself up off the floor

Guinevere watched in horror as the Saxon shot Lancelot. The bolt put Lancelot back a couple of steps. But, with an expression of pure determination and grit, the knight heaved one of his swords. It struck the Saxon in the same place. Helpless, she watched them both go down on their knees. Still holding grimly onto his remaining sword, Lancelot raised it to plunge it through the Saxon's neck. The Saxon grabbed his wrist as he stabbed, stopping the crimson blade a few inches away.

I dare you to move
I dare you to move
Like today never happened

Exerting the remaining strength left in his numbing body, Lancelot sought to overpower the Saxon. They battle lasted only a few seconds but to him, it was eternity. Then, in one overwhelming moment, the Saxon's strength left him and the sword went all the way through his neck. It killed him in an instance. Lancelot released the sword was dimly aware of falling onto his side. He had done it. He had saved her. Maybe now, she'd forgive him.... His sight dimmed..... These last words, he uttered...

"Guinevere, forgive me."

Today never happened....

Like today never happened.

Epilogue

Arthur watched with tears in his eyes, the ashes blow away on that strong east wind. Beside him, Guinevere laid her head on his shoulder, tears streaming down her fair face. Arthur recalled that night, in the stables...

"I will die I battle. That, I'm sure of. But hopefully, it will be a battle of my choosing." Lancelot turned to him, a grave look on his face. "But grant me a favor. Don't bury me in our sad, little cemetery; burn me. And cast my ashes to a strong east wind." Their gazes met for only a second and then Lancelot drew away. Arthur watched him go. He knew, no man ever liked to speak of his own death.

"Lancelot..."

"I forgive you," Guinevere whispered, weeping silently. "Even if there was nothing to forgive..."

AN: (sigh) I had a hard time writing this. At least, not without being sad. T.T I'm not much of an angst person but I try to put my heart into it. R&R.