Thanks to Patty and Robin for their great beta work. I finished a fic for Finish your fic month! WOOHOO I hope you all enjoy it. Char :-)

ONCE UPON A TIME: Part 10:

"NOOO! JASON NOOOOOOO!" Selina screamed herself awake. Bruce's strong arms wrapped around her trembling body. Her panicked green eyes' frantic gaze swept around the cramped rock hewn cell.

"Darling," Bruce calmly spoke hiding his own escalating hopelessness, "It's all right."

Her desperate gaze locked onto his calm blue eyes. He was only a day away from execution, yet he calmly soothed her with the words it was "all right", but she was still consumed with this overwhelming feeling of dread. Looking around, she saw the other concerned eyes staring at her. "I ... I dreamed about Jason ... that he was ... dead. Jason was dead. He was bloody and beaten and " She looked up into her husband's face imploring him to make it right, to assure her of their child's safety.

His strong arms wrapped comfortingly around her, his jaw flexed. Bruce did not know what to say to his wife. All of their children were in danger and he could not truthfully tell her that her dream was baseless. He could not soothe her fears as much as he wanted to. All he could do was pull her tightly to him, her head resting on his strong chest and his hands stroking the back of her head. "It ... was just a dream. You're worried about ... everything ... and that caused the dream."

Her body shook in his arms. "I don't know ... I hope so. I " her hand rubbed her middle. She ached for her children and longed to see them, yet she knew it would be more dangerous for them to be here than wherever they were. Selina could only pray that her dream was wrong and that her children were safe and alive somewhere. She also prayed that they would never return to Gotham.

The massive door creaked open and the eyes of the occupants of the cell turned toward it. The Duke of Kent entered the tight quarters. His hand waved for the guard to close the door behind him.

"You shouldn't be here," Bruce said.

"Perhaps," he answered. Kent moved over and sat beside the former Duke of Wayne. "I've tried to talk to King James. To have him stay his hand."

"Unsuccessfully."

"Yes. However, he has agreed to spare the ladies. He'll send them to the convent in Bristol after the executions. Lord Alfred, he's agreed to be merciful with you. He'll give you the choice between poison or beheading. But the rest of you," the Duke of Kent shook his head and sighed.

Leslie clutched at her husband and cried while he consoled her, gently patting her back and whispering, "There, there my dear." He looked into the sad eyes of the Duke of Kent. He had been friends with Lord Clark's father many years ago just as Bruce and Clark were friends now. "Please convey my gratitude to my liege; however, I shall take the scaffold with my nephew."

"Uncle," Bruce began only to be silenced by Alfred's upraised hand.

Kent nodded. "I will convey your message, Lord Alfred."

"My men," Bruce began. "Kent, could you plead with his grace? They do not deserve to die so horribly." He looked across the cell at the three young men, none more than twenty years. Roy covered his face with his hand; Garth tried to preoccupy himself with the wound in his shoulder; while Wallace simply looked down, his breathing coming in quick gasps.

The Duke of Kent shook his head. "I have already tried, my friend. They attacked the king. He will not allow that to stand."

Bruce nodded. He understood. "Midday on the morrow then."

"Yes," Kent replied with a sad resolve.


"Do you think this will work?" Timothy whispered to his brother as they lay in the dew wet grass watching the hill.

Richard nodded. "I think the Gaul's plan has merit."

"I hope it works," Timothy replied, his eyes watching for the Pict raiders who followed them. He felt the ground reverberate before he heard of saw anything. "Something's "

"They're coming," Richard answered. He held his sword aloft so it sent a glistening message across the rise to Jean-Paul.

The knights waited until they saw the Pict riders, and waited until they were almost on the edge of the precipice. When the Picts were positioned where the knights wanted them, the British forces stood lifting the taut rope knee high on the advancing horses. The horses whinnied and nayed as they ran into the rope, and then their legs buckled. The horses along with their riders rolled. Horses and riders flew in to empty air as they fell off the hill plummeting to their doom.

Richard smiled as he dropped the rope and ran to his horse followed by Timothy. He quickly lifted Barbara on to her horse, jumped on his steed, and they sped away toward Gotham. They met up with their three companions at the bottom of the hill. "Sir Jean-Paul that was an excellent plan."

"Oui, mon ami, now let us return to King James. Time draws short for your family."

Richard nodded. Barbara's eyes grew wide. "Short? What do you mean?" Richard did not answer her. Instead, he rode hard, pressing his horse to its fastest speed. Barbara galloped up beside of young Timothy. "What do they mean time runs short for your family?"

Timothy turned to face her; his young blue eyes seemed to bore into the Princess. "Your father accused us of your abduction. If we don't return to Gotham with you by tomorrow, our family dies."

Barbara turned away from Timothy. Her eyes looked to the front of the group of riders falling upon Richard's back. Her father couldn't have Richard's family killed. It was just ... wrong. Her mind refused to accept it. Her father was a fair and just ruler. He would never execute nobility without due cause and yet … in this topsy turvy world, what if it was true? They would stop it, they had too. She looked up at the sun; there was no way they could make it back in time.


"I grant you pardon and absolution from your sins," Father Hal spoke softly as he made the sign of the cross above Garth. It was the last of the confessions he had heard this morning in giving the last rites to the condemned in this cell. He took no pleasure in his solemn duties, only consolation in the confidence of his actions. As their confessor, he knew they were not guilty of the crimes which condemned them. Father Hal could only shake his head. He turned and walked back to the Bruce, former Duke of Wayne. "I wish I could do more," he stated.

"You've done all that can be done, Father, and I thank you for that." Bruce looked beyond the priest to his wife and aunt.

"They will be well cared for. Sister Helena will see to that. Do not go into the next world worrying about their safety. Convent life is not what they have had, but they will ease into their new world. They will find comfort at Glastonbury amidst their grief."

Bruce's strong, wide chest heaved and he turned toward the wall. He felt the priest lay a comforting hand on his arm. "Death ... doesn't scare me. It never has. What they're going to do to me out there ... doesn't scare me. But knowing that she is going to be in pain, leaving her alone, that is what I cannot bear."

"We will care for her. We will care for both of them."

The heavy wooden door screeched open and Bullock's hulking form loomed in the doorway, "It's almost time. Say your goodbyes."

Selina cupped her mouth as a muffled whine escaped her lips. "No," she whispered as she ran into her husband's arms. "No Bruce, my love. This can't be happening. Please, please don't let this happen. I cannot lose you."

Bruce wrapped his strong arms around Selina. Leaning his head over, he took in the smell of her, the feel of her. That was what he would take with him on whatever journey lay for him beyond death. "Selina," he started slowly. His voice one that only she could hear. "I have loved you all my life. From the moment I first bumped into you. Before that moment, I had never been truly alive. You are not going to lose me. You will never lose me." He tilted her head so they stared into each other's eyes. "I love you, my darling, and that love will never die."

She looked up at him, tears watering her emerald eyes. "And I love you. With all my heart, my soul and my being. Forever."

Leaning down, he pulled her to him, kissing her one last time. "Come," he bade her as he walked to his aunt and uncle, Selina's arm still wrapped around him. Leslie cupped his face and he covered her hand with his own. "This was the hand that comforted me when I was a child. I take comfort from it still. Don't grieve me now, Aunt Leslie."

Alfred stood behind his wife and looked at the boy they had raised. His brother's child that became their child. "I am and always have been proud of you, my son."

Sad resolution fell over Bruce's face as he nodded.

"It's time," Bullock barked.

Bruce turned toward the door and his eyes fell upon the three young men condemned with him. "Look," he said. "They stand without anyone to comfort them, without anyone to mourn them. We must ..." Bruce moved toward them before he finished. His unsaid wishes were not lost on his family who approached the young men as well.

Selina moved over to Wallace. Tilting his head up, she kissed his cheek as if he were one of her own sons.

"Mi'lady?" Wallace said softly, somewhat confused.

She smiled sweetly at him, her eyes glistening with tears. "I shall never forget you, dear Wallace, nor your kindness, bravery, and humor." Selina pulled the young man into her arms. At the moment he was a son without a mother and she was a mother without her sons. They filled the void each had.

Leslie hugged Garth. The young man expressed his gratitude to her. "Thank you mi'lady. For your kindness in tending me this past week," the soft spoken youth said.

"It was my honor, Garth," she replied as Alfred joined her cupping his hand on the young man's shoulder.

Bruce placed his hand upon the shoulder of the Captain of his guard. "Roy," he began, as the young man looked him in the eyes. "I have raised you with my own sons since you were twelve. No father could be prouder of you than I am."

"Lord Bruce, no son could feel more for a father than I feel for you," Roy

Bruce clasped Roy's shoulders. "Then hold your head up, stand tall beside me on the scaffold, and die as you have lived, as one of my sons. There is no shame in dying for innocent men."

"Out! Now!" Bullock ordered.

The Duke turned his fierce glare on the Captain of the King's guard. Unnerved, Bullock stepped back. Wayne proudly walked from the cell followed by his retinue. Selina's eyes followed him for as long as she could before the door closed behind them. Slowly, she walked to the heavy wooden door and laid her trembling hand upon it. "Oh, Bruce."

Leslie laid her hands on Selina's shoulders as the priest and sister attempted to comfort her as well. They did not stand idle long, as the door shoved open again.

"Come," the guards ordered.

Father Hal stepped forward. "These ladies are going to the convent with "

"After the execution. First, they watch."

Proudly, the Duke of Wayne, his uncle and his men walked from their Tower cell through the stone structure to Traitor's gate. There the guards bound their hands before roughly shoving them outside into the sight of the large, waiting crowd. King James had promised their death would be a spectacle and he was a man of his word. The sound of the drummers caused all eyes to focus on the scaffold and the prisoners who were being brought out for execution.

Bruce's eyes hardened as he was shoved into the bright sunshine. He walked behind the guards and drummers, his eyes forward, his head erect. The crowd shouted taunts at him. Bruce felt his jaw flexing. He refused to turn toward the crowd. His mind, however, could not help but betray him. Reminding him of the times the crowds cheered him as the young knight besting all others in the tournaments, as the conquering hero returning from an expedition enlarging the King's holdings, as the Dark Knight the most renowned warrior protector of the realm. Bruce remembered it all, while the crowd seemed to remember nothing.

"Traitor" they called him when they were being kind. Few were kind. Other, crueler words stabbed at him but he refused to react. They would see his death, they could revel in it, but Bruce, Duke of Wayne, would not give them the pleasure and satisfaction of seeing him squirm.

He wanted to turn and provide comfort to his men behind him, but there was no comfort in what they were about to endure. Bruce felt Roy's presence as the young man closely followed him. Bruce knew that Roy's eyes were focused on him. Roy's resolve would come from Bruce. He looked straight ahead, past the scaffold and the nooses hanging down, to the King's diadem. The nobles of the land sat around the King. Only one of the nobles was not there to enjoy the show. The Duke of Kent made one, last, valiant effort to stay the king's judgment.

"My liege, this is not right. Wayne is not guilty. Do not do this. I beg of you, King James. Please do not do this. Show mercy, great King."

However, the King's grief in the loss of his only child and heir was all encompassing and he was beyond compassion or reason. "There is no mercy for the man who abducted my daughter, the man who publicly questioned my law." James turned tired, resolute eyes on his most powerful Duke. "You would be well to remember Wayne's fate before you continue further."

Kent's deep blue eyes narrowed. He turned and left the King's diadem, his crimson cape flapping behind him. Bruce inwardly sighed as he watched his friend of many years turn rebuffed and leave the diadem. Behind him, he heard Wallace gasp as the full sight of the gallows came into view.

"Oh my God," Wallace whispered as the reality of their situation pressed down upon him.

"I know," Garth whispered back before the guards flanking them pushed them forward. The two young soldiers were pelted with rotten fruit and stones by the crowds assembled to watch them die.

"Pay it no heed, lads," Alfred's calm voice spoke from behind them. "Being unkind makes them feel important. They are a mob. By definition, a group of base cowards reveling in their importance by causing pain. It is ignorance in action."

"How can anyone," Wallace started before using his bound hands to deflect flying debris, "feel important belittling people in their last ... this is so hard."

"Ignore it Wallace," Garth responded. "It doesn't matter anymore." They followed Bruce and Roy up the steps onto the platform to the baying of the crowd.

The guards held Lord Alfred back. His execution was to follow the torturous demise of the four. His torture was in watching theirs. Alfred struggled as two guards held him by his arms. The remaining guards held fast to their prisoners as they marched each below the nooses. Bruce's eyes glared across the courtyard at the King. Their eyes met, and King James' anger grew as he read the defiance still evident in Wayne.

The black hooded executioner stood behind the Dark Knight. He pulled the hemp rope over Bruce's head, securing and tightening the noose around his neck. Slowly the executioner moved down the line to Roy, Wallace and Garth. He secured the noose around all of their necks, the coils of the twisted rope resting behind their left ear.

Bruce looked down to the foot of the scaffold and saw her for the first time. "Selina," he said softly. She stared up at him, her green eyes brimming with tears. Leslie and Sister Helena held her in their arms trying to comfort her. He heard his aunt telling her to remember she was a Lady and to watch with dignity, bearing what she must. However, Selina was inconsolable. Bruce ignored the executioner reading their death warrants for treason against the King. He ignored Father Hal saying one last blessing for the condemned. His thoughts were solely upon the love of his life and the pain she would endure watching his death.

The drummers pounded out their death cadence. Then the drums stopped. Silence filled the courtyard. All eyes were upon the four men on the scaffold. Bruce's eyes remained steadfast upon Selina. King James signaled the executioner and the condemned were painfully hoisted into the air.

The Duke of Kent paced, his chest heaving with each step. He looked back up at the diadem. "King James, I beg you stop this before it is too late."

The king did not look down until the condemned were dropped to the scaffold floor for the minutes reprieve before they were hoisted for the second time. Selina pulled from Leslie's grasp, and she rushed the scaffold. Her soft hand reached up to caress her husband's face.

Bruce's bound hands instinctively tugged at the rope around his neck. His pulse thundered in his ears. His eyes looked at her, then past Selina to the diadem.

James looked down at his noble, the Duke of Kent. Dismissively, he responded, "This continues."

"Look at the suffering you're causing, my liege. Needless suffering," Kent said pointing at the scene below them. "Do not throw away your kingdom and the loyalty of your oath sworn lords."

"I am your King!" James bellowed standing from his throne. "I am the Lord God's chosen to rule. You would be wise to remember that, and not test my tolerance further. I will see my daughter avenged. Be careful that I do not consider your interference to be a part of that treason."

The Lord of Kent turned hard steel blue eyes to stare at his King. "You have my word, King James. If you ever have need to charge me for treason, it will be for more than asking plea for mercy for innocent men." Their eyes locked. "You have left me no choice. My treason would be this," The Knight of Steel said pulling his sword and holding it aloft, "ARCHERS! QUARRELS AWAY!" A squad of archers wearing the distinctive blue and red colors of the Dukedom of Kent stepped up from their perch across the courtyard atop the city gates.

Bruce's eyes narrowed at the scene unfolding before him. Before he had time to comprehend it all, the rope around his neck tightened once more lifting him off the wooden flooring. Selina's scream echoed in his ears. His hands fought frantically at the rope, trying to loosen the unyielding grip, to find some way to get breath into his strangling body.

The Duke of Kent had chosen the surest archers from his troops and those of the Dukedom of Wayne for this initial volley and they did not fail him. Their arrows sped away toward the condemned who were jerked upward high above the scaffold for the final and deadly time. Screams echoed from the crowd, screams of panic as well as anger. Horses galloped through the gate and into the scattering crowds. The charging crowd, horses, and armed men collided in a chaotic conflict.

The arrows flew straight and true, finding their mark severing the ropes hanging the Duke of Wayne and his men. The four fell to the scaffold with a deafening thud. Lord Alfred jerked away from the guards holding him. "Bruce!"

King James stood, ignoring the chaotic clashes and cries of battle, and pointed, ordering his guards, "Kill the prisoners NOW! Arrest the Duke of Kent immediately!"

Selina screamed again and tried to reach Bruce on the platform. The guard near her drew his sword, approaching her menacingly. Father Hal stepped between the three women and the king's guard. "These good ladies are under my protection. Now while I am but a humble man of God, I pray you leave them be." His left hand was out palm up to the guard in a gesture of peace; his right hand had slipped beneath his cassock. The guard grunted and continued to approach. Father Hal sighed and pulled a Roman style sword from beneath his cassock. "Let me warn you, I was not always a simple man of the cloth, I used to be a Roman centurion. Advance further and I will send your soul to God with my prayers for God's boundless mercy for even your worthless soul, my son."

Bullock and his men advanced upon the fallen Duke of Wayne. Bruce's bound hands pulled at the tight noose. He looked up with hard, angry, blue eyes as Bullock pulled his sword. A hoarse growl escaped his parched lips as he dove into Bullock's center sending them both over the side of the scaffold. Using his bound hands, Bruce pummeled the King's Captain in the face. Bullock's had shot forward with a twisted metal dagger, the blade oily with poison toward the Duke's neck. Bruce twisted, but bound he would not be able to avoid the promise of a swift but horrible death by poison. Even as Bullock staggered back from Bruce's crushing blow to the Captain of the Royal Guard's face, the dagger swiftly descended. Just as Bruce registered his imminent death, a clash of metal knocked the blade away. Bruce swung hard again, into Bullock's body and the massive guard fell to the groan in pain. Bruce delivered a smashing kick to Bullock's head and whirled. His eyes following his savior's blade back to its owner and stared into the face of his eldest. Richard spurred his steed past his father and engaged the King's guard as they drew swords on the fallen prisoners.

Richard leapt from his horse, sword flashing in the bright midday sun. The sword smashed into a guardsman's downward arcing sword inches away from a killing blow to his friend and Captain of the Wayne Guard, Roy. "I thought I told you to go save my father," he said as he freed Roy from his bonds.

Reaching down, Roy grabbed a sword and kicked the fallen guardsman in the face. "I remember that. I went."

"You weren't doing a very good job," Richard countered. Richard's blade whipped forward again, against a pair of guards. The blade buried deep in the breast of the nearest and his hand punched forward into the throat of the next, sending him stumbling. Richard's bloodied sword withdrew from the first guard as he turned and brought his blade to bear on the stumbling guard. The slashing sword gutted the King's guard and he collapsed into a metal bloody heap. The two deaths, took less than a minute and Richard was on the move to the next group of charging guards before Roy could reply.

"Everyone's a critic," Roy shouted at Richard's back as Roy engaged another guard in battle. "He's still alive!" Roy's sword danced forward underneath the charging guard's arm. The blade sunk deep in the guard's chest and he fell back. Roy withdrew the sword by kicking the guard away and moved to the nearest guard closing on the Duke of Wayne's flank. Roy grabbed an arrow from a nearby body. He whirled and in a backhand motion, jabbed through the eye slot of an approaching guard. The guard screamed, dropped his sword and Roy finished his pirouette with blade finding the throat of the guard, silencing the guard forever

As Roy charged deeper into the fray in defense of his Lord and fellow warriors, Timothy appeared beside Father Hal. The Father was about to impale the approaching guard, when Timothy's sword cut across the guard's midsection. The guard lost his footing and Timothy put his light frame into a killing blow, driving the bloodied blade deep into the chest of the guard. He turned quickly and joined his Mother's side, "Mother?" Selina smiled at him. Timothy smiled back and turned his sword to protect his mother, aunt and the deceptively peaceful Father Hal. Timothy launched into the fray facing off against an oncoming warrior. He smacked the hilt of the soldier's sword knocking it out of the guards hand and into the air. Timothy's foot lashed out, catching the guard in the gut, and as the guard fell back, the sword flipped from his hand. Young Timothy caught it by the hilt. A split second later, he sent the blade whirling forward impaling an attacking guard at Wallace's feet. Timothy waved at Wallace who grabbed the sword from the fallen body and advanced into the fight.

Wallace sped forward, slashing at the nearest guard. His sword flew into the guard, cutting into his leg. Wallace kicked forward, knocking the man down to the blood stained ground. The guard rolled with the momentum and tried to regain his footing. Wallace brought the hilt down on the back of the guard's head. A split second passed and Wallace ducked under a swing of a closing guard. The swishing blow missed his head by a hair's width, but Wallace was already moving, bowling into the oncoming attacker. They fell into a tangled mass of legs, metal and grasping arms. Wallace blocked a dagger blow and brought his fist down on the dagger wielding arm. The dagger slipped from the guard's grasp and quicker than the eye could follow, it fell into Wallace's hand, and then it was buried in the guard. From his position on the ground, Wallace rolled forward, knocking another guard down as he closed on Garth who was frantically working on his bounds.

Before Wallace could call out a warning, a sharp beveled long blade descended. Garth pulled back from certain death only to hear the Gaul curse him and command him still. "Mon Dieu, stop moving before I take one of your hands. You think it easy to cut those ropes from horseback?"

Garth confused, held his hands forward and the sharp blade hewed the ropes in two in single smooth stroke. The Gaul leapt to the scaffold and immediately cut the King's forces by a third. He raised the polished blade over his head and his voiced roared out in regal authority, "Men of Gaul! Protect Lord Wayne! My sword belongs to them." His men changed the direction of their advance at his command. Following the order of their Prince, the Gaul troops engaged the Gothamites in battle.

Lord Bruce used Bullock's sword to split his bonds before disarming the unconscious Captain of his weapon. His eyes quickly surveyed the situation before he joined his two sons in the battle. "Where's Jason?" Bruce growled out to Richard as his son returned to his side. He had not seen his middle son anywhere in the combat in the courtyard. Richard dropped his head for a minute; he could not meet Bruce's eyes. The silence between them was deafening before Richard turned away, and charged into battle, mowing down two unfortunate Gotham guards as they turned toward his father. His silence told Bruce more than words ever could. A cold gripped his spirit more than the pain of the noose. The cold then turned into a white hot rage. He looked around the battlefield. The red and blue of Kent's and the black of Wayne's colors identified the defenders and they waded with savage intensity into the King's guard, breaking their lines of defense. The blue and gold fleur-de-lis of the Gaul troops flashed as the Gauls fought on the side of the two Duke's troops. Then Lord Bruce's eyes settled on the King James leaving the diadem. "You killed my son." He ground the words out as his heart clinched at the certain knowledge that hope was lost for Jason. He bellowed the words, "YOU KILLED MY SON!" at the certain knowledge of who was responsible and who would pay for his son's death.

Bruce dove off the scaffold and plunged into the fight intent on making his way across the courtyard. He made his way through the king's guard like a feral lion. As a man possessed, every swing of the blade or blow from his hand brought a soldier to the ground. He stabbed, he hacked, and he sliced. Lord Bruce's prowess on the battlefield was well renowned throughout the kingdom. Even injured as he was, there was no match for him on the field. Where he swept through the maelstrom of battle, he left carnage in his wake. All in his unrelenting advance toward his enemy, King James. The same king he had served so many years. Nothing would stop him. No one would stand in his way. This was no mere skirmish but a Battle Royal.

Barbara and her ladies had ridden through the melee toward the diadem. "Has the world gone mad?" Dinah asked riding beside her Princess.

Barbara turned to her nodding her head as she pulled her horse up at the foot of the diadem. "FATHER!" Barbara called, jumping down from her horse and running up the stone steps to meet her father. "What's going on? Stop this! Now!"

King James and the Duke of Kent were locked in combat, sword to sword. Kent pushed a chair between them, giving James the time to stop, and hopefully to think. The king grabbed his daughter pulling her to him. "Daughter, you're alive. Are you unharmed?"

"Yes," she said. Looking around at the battle surrounding them, she saw the Duke of Kent as he jumped down from the diadem fighting his way toward his friend. Barbara looked at her father with wide, confused eyes and she questioned him, "Father, what is this madness?"

"Wayne had you abducted " the King began. Anger shown clearly on his face.

"No! No he didn't! Your former Jester rules the Picts now. He had me taken. Sir Richard saved me!"

James' eyes narrowed, "The Jester ... " he contemplated his daughter's words as the world turned topsy-turvy around them. He looked out at his kingdom in turmoil. Wayne had not been responsible for kidnapping Barbara, but Wayne and Kent's men attacked his men in the very seat of his power. Should they not pay for this treason if not for the first?

"Father ... stop this " the princess turned toward the battle raging before them.

"I ... cannot. Kent and Wayne ... defied me."

"You were executing Lord Wayne, Father! And they're innocent! You can't blame them for "

"SILENCE! I am the king. Their very lives belong to me. I say if they live or die and I had decreed they die."

Her green eyes flashed with anger. "Then you decreed wrong! Order this to stop! NOW!" Barbara faced off against her father. She had endured much this past week, but standing against her father was the hardest thing she had ever done. However, the young princess was steadfast in her resolve. "Now Father!" She had worried they would not make it back to Gotham in time. Had it not been for Richard's short-cut across Wayne lands, they would have been too late. She would not back away from what she knew was the right path, regardless of whether it set her against her father.

Richard turned in a pirouette, his sword taking out two of the king's men. He did not stop for a breath and kept moving. His eyes found his father's back in the courtyard. Lord Bruce was moving toward the King's diadem. The Dark Knight left bloody carnage in his wake. Finally, Richard stopped as the realization of the situation hit him squarely in the face. His father was attacking the King. The King was Barbara's father. Barbara was with her father. "Oh my God, this cannot be happening." Richard ducked as a blade swished over his head.

His attacker screamed as an arrow plunged through his back. Looking up, Richard smiled. "Roy!"

The red headed soldier nodded. "I believe that makes us even." He smiled good naturedly before he turned firing his appropriated arrows at their attackers. The solid dual thunks sounded ahead of Richard as Roy split fired the arrows. Two more arrows flew and another guardsman fell, and then another, another two, and another one in rapid order as Roy hopped to a better vantage point. Richard used the clearing Roy's skill with the bow provided to run after his father. This madness had to be stopped before it was totally out of control. If it wasn't already too late.

"Wayne," Kent shouted as he moved beside his friend.

Lord Bruce was oblivious of all around him save his target, King James. "You killed my son!" Bruce roared as he stood at the bottom of the stone steps leading to the diadem. "Jason is dead because of you."

King James' face was flushed with anger. "He was a knight. Dying in battle is part of his duty."

The Duke of Kent turned from the sight, his eyes finding his own young son Conner engaged in the battle. His side was already chosen. Sword at the ready, he turned back to his friend. He understood the love a father has for his son and understood the rage at the needless loss of young life. A loss caused by the king's merciless unreasoning. He had pledged his sword, army and blood to right this injustice and he would back the Duke of Wayne to the very end, no matter what that end would be.

"He was a boy! He died because you sent boys to rescue your daughter rather than knights and soldiers. You are responsible, and for that you will die."

"NOOOOO!" Barbara screamed as she jumped between her father and the Dark Knight's savage sword.

"FATHER NO!" Richard called as he joined his father on the steps, maneuvering himself between the Princess and his father.

"Richard. Stand. Away."

The young knight's chest was tight. He had never disobeyed his father. He understood his father's rage over Jason's death. Richard shared it. Shared the indignation in the way their King had treated their family. However, too much blood had been shed. If his father killed the King, then Princess Barbara would have no choice but to seek his head. The nobles would demand it. Sir Richard was not the court strategist, but even he knew this could only end with everyone he loved dead. Their best hope was Princess Barbara and bringing the true villain to light. "No ... Father." His blue eyes stared into his father's hard blue eyes. "Please."

The Duke of Wayne looked into the face of his eldest child. Their blue eyes locked with each other. He read Richard's silent plea to stop the fighting and spare the king. Looking into Richard's face, Bruce also saw Jason's. His heart felt as if it had been gripped by a vice. The vice tightened as he heard Jason's laughter. It cranked another turn as he saw Jason sparring with Richard. The vice crushed inward again as he saw Jason presented to The Court. His heart broke and he dropped to his knees as the emptiness welled up inside him. "Jason," the Dark Knight whispered.

"Father," Richard said as he walked to his father, knelt and his hand rested on his father's shoulder. "I am so sorry. I failed. I ... I couldn't save Jason."

The Duke of Kent had turned and walked down the stairs. His heart was heavy for his friend. He looked out at the raging battle. His, the Gaul's and Wayne's men had turned the tide of battle and victory was assured, but no one was the winner. He shook his head at the needless waste. The lands may very well be fractured. No noble would trust King James to rule. Unless providence provided another, all would be lost.

King James watched as Richard knelt with his father. His anger rising. James pushed Barbara from him, hoisting his sword in the air, he swung it toward Richard's back as Barbara screamed. His sword met steel and he turned to face the young knight who had joined them on the diadem.

"A rash blow ... My Father always taught me to swing straight, true and with care."

"Jason," Bruce said through a hushed voice. Slowly, he started to stand.

Richard whirled, his sword at the ready beside his brother in front of their father. "I thought you were dead."

Jason shrugged but continued addressing the king. "My liege, your enemy is not before you, but if you continue ... you will not be my liege and I will be your enemy. God will guide my sword as surely as he did when the Jester died. The princess and your honor have been avenged." He looked to his side as the blue painted Pict girl, Cassandra dumped the contents of the crimson stained bag she held and the Jester's pale head rolled out in between them.

Princess Barbara shrieked at the sight of the rolling head, turning her face to her ladies. Dinah only moved closer to the action smiling at her young knight's return.

Richard held his sword bloodied and ready. "No one else need die here, King James ... but you will not harm the Duke of Wayne or Kent. This ends now."

"Order your men to stand down, my liege," the Duke of Kent's soft words stung the king's ears as he rejoined the party on the diadem.

Richard spoke directly to the King again. His tone was firm and he met the King's gaze unwavering, "My liege, look at the chaos the damage that has been done. For the sake of all you rule, end this. If you do not, then other Nobles will seek to usurp you. From this chaos will grow the seeds of rebellion and anarchy. All will be lost." Richard's eyes briefly met Barbara's and then he continued, his head held high as his father had taught him. "I do not have your depth of knowledge Your Grace or Father's wisdom, but if you stop this – the injustice will be righted. I am certain that with the true villain dead, the Dukedom's of Wayne and Kent will once again be your strong allies bringing a strong secure Northern border. The unity would give strength to all of those who serve you and end the fracturing of the fiefdoms. The Gaul will know our strength and make sure that in his homeland, your resolve is known. My liege, my brother has returned. The Princess again stands at your side, and the villain who did so much damage is dead. Please, let this end."

The Duke of Kent glanced at Bruce's calm, determined face. He saw the pride of a Father and the strength of a noble standing with his heir. He suspected that Richard's wisdom and strength may indeed be the strength of the future ruler. Here was Providence standing before them in the form of a young knight of the House of Wayne. "Richard of Wayne speaks very well my King. Perhaps out of turn, but he speaks with the wisdom that you have always brought to us. The trickster is dead. Let this end with him and we will send troops to route the Pict's loyal to the monster."

James watched the Duke of Wayne clasp the arm of his middle son, relief radiating from his face. Then he turned behind him, his eyes fell upon his own daughter. James remembered how worried, distraught and overwrought he had been from the moment she disappeared and his heart was moved to understand Wayne's. He considered the wise words of the Duke of Kent and the young knight. His haste may have cost the lands everything and without quick action, it still may. Surely God had used his chosen messengers to return his daughter and to remind him, that while King – he was still a man. A mortal who had basked in God's glory, but was still capable of allowing pain to move him to rash action. King James could not turn his back on that or his daughter's stubborn gaze. He had made a mistake. His eyes met the Duke of Kent's. He nodded. He knew what must be done to save the lands."CEASE!" He yelled toward the battle. "CEASE FIGHTING!"

The clanging of blades slowed and then ceased. All eyes turned toward the king. The Duke of Kent held his hand palm up signaling the opposing forces to cease.

King James held his sword out to the Duke of Wayne. "I was ... wrong. " Bruce took the sword in his hands with a nod. James turned taking Barbara's hand in his, and then he turned back to Richard and Jason. "I owe you both my thanks for saving my daughter. Were I still king, I would reward you both for your bravery." He then turned to the two Dukes standing before him. "I only ask that my daughter be treated with kindness."

"Father?" Barbara asked confused. Her hand clutched at his arm.

Lord Wayne looked at Kent, then back at the king. "I have no desire for your kingdom, King James."

"Nor do I," Kent replied. "However, I understand all of our positions are rather precarious after this unpleasant disagreement. Perhaps, we need to form a new alliance. One bonding us to the King in a manner that cannot be undone. One that will consider the bloodline to the throne as well as the strength of all of our houses."

Bruce looked at his old friend and nodded, a half smile forming on his face. "Yes, that's a brilliant idea."

"What idea, father?" Richard asked. The unspoken politics between the older men was lost on him.

The king stepped back, nodded and made the announcement to the crowd. The loyal soldiers of Wayne and Kent took the Land of the Picts under the rule of the New King and the Nobles unanimously supported the new alliance."

"AND?"

"And what?"

"What happened?"

"I told you."

"What was the decision and what was the new alliance?"

"Oh, you're a bit like the young knight Richard. He didn't understand at first either. But then King James held the lovely Princess Barbara's hand and brought it together into the hand of Sir Richard of Wayne. The king stepped away from them, leaving the future king and queen to wave to the cheering crowd. What began as a ceremony of death became a celebration of life. It was the beginning of their lives together and they lived happily ever after.

"You could've just told me that."

"A story must always be told with style. Leaving the listener wanting more. For while this is the end of our story for now, it is the beginning of the tale of a King who fought evil with bravery and courage."

"Oh, I know which story that is! Tell me the story of King Richard and the Dragon."

"Not tonight, little one. Sleep and dream happy dreams."

"Merlin, when I grow up, will I be as good a king as King Richard was and as brave a fighter as Duke Bruce was?"

"Of course you will. You shall be as grand a ruler and fighter as your great-grandfather and great-great-grandfather were. They would be proud of you, young Arthur."

"G'night Merlin. Tomorrow night you can tell me about Sir Richard and the Dragon and how they all lived happily ever after."

THE END