Chapter 7

Many soldiers clothed in black were gathered in the hall when they pushed me in. Most of them were laughing at me.

I was trying to act like I could barely stand on my feet (not too far from the truth, really). I even limped a bit, just to make them think I was an easy target.

Morgana, who had been walking in the front, turned around: "I will give you a chance to save your handsome friend", she said sneering, "if you stay alive long enough." She herself loosened the chains around my handsand gave me another grin.

"I will", I whispered to her and when she just raised her right eyebrow in answer and tilted her head to the side, I added, "and one day you will regret that you ever met me."

While I chided myself for this not too imaginative threat, she laughed and took a step back, gesturing to two men standing beside her. Both of them had swords as well as big, black shields, were almost a head taller than me, and grim-faced. Neither one of them seemed like the types who would underestimate a knight of Camelot, so I dropped the façade and looked around for anything I could use as a weapon, but the other Southrons stood around us like a wall, cheering and whooping for their fighters.

While I was busy searching for a weapon, one of them had come closer, while the other warily circled me, clearly holding back. Maybe he waited for a signal from Morgana, who had stepped back between her soldiers, crossed her arms in front of her and smiled widely with far too much teeth showing.

The first man, who had a big scar running down the left side of his face, charged. I made a quick step to the side and he missed me, barely. He turned around fast and attacked me again, but not fast enough for me not to notice that he was missing his left ear, maybe due to the attack that had scarred his face. I mentally noted this down as a possible advantage, jumping back only the blink of an eye later to again narrowly avoid being stabbed.

The situation was bad enough for me without a weapon and nothing to defend myself, but Morgana took no chances. She motioned to the second fighter and he also came at me, fast as lightning. If he hadn't started yelling, I might not have seen him charging soon enough, but so I sidestepped again.

Even after these few hasty moments and though adrenalin was circulating in every cell of my body, I noticed how weak my movements had become in the last week with barely anything to eat or drink.

Breathing hard, I dodged another attack by Scarface, but missed to see the other Southron coming from behind. He slammed into me with his shield and full body-weight, causing me to fall down to the ground with all the air knocked from my lungs. Gasping to regain my breath, I turned around.

The soldier stood over me, his sword raised to finish me off, with a snarlingScarface behind him, looking like he was really pissed off the other guy had stolen his prize.

I heard Morgana say: "Behold! A mighty knight of Camelot!" and the crowd howled with laughter in answer.

It felt like time slowed down while I waited for the sword to come down, thinking about a million things at once. But the predominant thought was: After all, he didn't come.

Not caring about being a knight of Camelot, I closed my eyes and waited for the pain.


Instead of searing pain and the feeling of being ripped out of existence in this universe, I heard people yelling and the crowd around me moving. A heavy person tripped over me and fell down on me, again leaving me breathless.

My eyes snapped open.

The hall had sunken into total chaos, but I could see people in chain mail and red cloaks attacking the black-clad Southrons. The attack on the Citadel was well underway, finally. And for me, not a second too soon.

The guy on top of me stumbled back up and knocked my head against the stone floor in the process. For a few moments, I saw black spots everywhere, balancing on the edge of falling into unconsciousness, but I managed to stay awake and to stumble back up, which was a good thing. Laying around on the floor when a battle is going on never is a good idea.

A few paces to my right, a fallen Southron lay, his sword still in his hand. I hurried over and took it from him, barely registering that it was Scarface. Clutching the sword, I headed for the melee, keeping an eye out for Morgana as well as for Merlin and Arthur, but to no avail.

Who I did see, though, were Tristan and Isolde, fighting side by side. While I mused that at least this part of the story had not changed, a Southron attacked me and for the next minutes, I was so engaged in battle that everything except staying alive became absolutely meaningless.


It felt like we fought for hours, but I'm sure that it were mere minutes in reality. The last Southron fell and I sagged against the nearest wall. My head hurt and my knees trembled from exhaustion and because the adrenaline dispersed rapidly.

Trying to regain my breath (again...), I looked around. The Southrons who had whooped at the possibility of my death a few minutes before, were now dead themselves. If I hadn't seen that there were people with red cloaks on the floor, too, I might have rejoiced at this. I guess a maybe not so small, cruel part of me did so, anyway.

From the hallway I could still hear the sound of metal on metal, but as most knights had already rushed outside to help, I stayed behind. Somehow I was sure that I would not be able to lift my sword again any time soon.

Then I heard someone sobbing quietly to my right side. Turning, I saw Isolde, bending over the body of a motionless man with a pale face and closed eyes. It was Tristan.

Something in me went ice cold at the sight, because her position reminded me of something I'd rather forget. While I stared at her, frozen to the spot, the fighting in the hallway ceased and I heard someone entering.

When I looked up, I was not surprised at the sight of Merlin and the King, accompanied by Guinevere and Sir Leon. They all stopped dead at the door when they noticed the crying.

"Isolde?", Arthur asked, his voice sounding hoarse and tired.

The woman lifted her tear-streaked face, tried to say something, couldn't, and finally shook her head in answer. She clutched Tristan's limp hand close to her and continued to sob quietly. Arthur and Gwen exchanged a glance I was sure said more than a thousand words could, and Guinevere walked over to Isolde to pull her into a close embrace.

I felt tears rising to my own eyes while I watched them, but remembered just in time that I was supposed to be a knight and, this was even more important, did not want to get too close to anybody important today, so I tried to sneak out of the hall.

I fought nausea down, trying to walk in a straight line, but suddenly felt really dizzy and tired and Isolde's face kept reappearing before my mind's eye, making it hard to keep walking and not just-

"Are you hurt?", a calm voice beside me said. I jumped when I realized who had asked the questions, then tried to appear perfectly calm and alright and shook my head, maybe not the smartest idea, for I swayed and almost fell down. Merlin kept me from falling and helped me to the wall, where he talked me into sitting down.

"I haven't seen Gaius either", he said, seemingly responding to something the king said that I hadn't heard.

"He is in the dungeons", I whispered, fighting against being sick.

I tried not to feel bad when all of them, except Gwen, who stayed with Isolde, dashed away, leaving me alone, leaning against the wall, black spots again before my eyes, getting bigger every second.

Even while I blacked out, I could still hear Isolde's bitter crying.

A/N: And once again I'm balancing on the edge of William becoming far too much Mary Sue-ish... But honestly, in her position, I would have passed out a long time ago. Or died without chocolate and coffee... Anyway, I hope you liked this!

Thanks again for your kind reviews, favs and follows! I appreciate it!