Author Note: Ok, I did NOT expect to be left with no internet for several weeks, so you have my deepest and sincerest apologies for leaving you with such an evil cliffhanger for so long! Was not my intention at all, and so whilst I still have no internet back home until the 13th June at least, I'm making the most of this time round my b/friend's and using his internet to post, so hopefully this chapter will keep you going until I finally get my own internet restored.
On the plus side, I have got plenty of chapters written in rough and waiting to be double checked over, so there is no danger of this story ending any time soon, lol. There's still SO much of Dante's character to be explored.
Through Darkness - Thank you for your review, I appreciate that Leon and Percival also liking Dante may be a bit extreme but, well...I kind of have a crush on all three of them (Gwaine, obviously, but also Leon and Percival), so I guess I just let myself get carried away, lol. Anyways, I'll be sure to keep the two of them in check from now on and maybe find them some girls of their own, if I have a spare moment.
sexystarwarslover - Thank you again for your brilliant reviews as always, I'm glad my story has the effect I was hoping for - that it would read pretty much like an episode (or given everything that's happened so far, perhaps an entire series, lol) and I'm glad you're still enjoying it!
As for everyone else who has reviewed, thank you all, your thoughts and comments are much appreciated and I love reading what you guys have to say.
Anyways that's my ramble over now, so back to the story, as you're all probably dying to know what happens next, lol. Enjoy!
...
Having been separated from Dante by the sheer volume of men pressing down on them , Gwaine was nowhere nearby when she fell. But he saw it all happen, watching in horror and rage as she was brought down by a dagger to the chest. Suddenly unafraid for his own safety any longer, he began wading through the increasing mounds of bodies, and the men who still continued to fight on, regardless.
One of Lot's men sunk a dagger into his shoulder. With a roar of fury, Gwaine turned and grabbed the man around the neck with his left hand. Reaching behind him with his right hand, he yanked the blade out of his shoulder, taking a second to recover from the blinding pain of the wound. Then, looking straight into the man's terrified eyes, Gwaine plunged the knife into his throat and dropped his limp body to the ground.
That was when he felt something snap within him.
Red-tinted rage swelled up, and he was blinded to everything else except Lot, who was slowly rising to his feet over the body of the woman who Gwaine was not ashamed to admit that he loved more than life itself.
His scream of rage carried clearly over the sounds of the battle as he charging forwards – his sword flashing constantly as it tore into anyone who tried to stand in his way.
But when he finally reached Lot, he didn't use his sword against the king. Just stabbing him would be too quick. He wanted to cause him ten times the amount of pain he'd caused Dante, first.
So Gwaine bolted forwards and, despite the thick mud and gore weighing heavily on his boots, he kicked with all his might.
Time seemed to slow and there was a crunch, weirdly distorted and amplified, as his booted foot smashed into Lot's face. Lot had been thrown to one side by Percival, who had also rushed to Dante's aid, and the King had been trying to stagger back to his feet when Gwaine lashed out. Percival, seeing the look in Gwaine's eye now, stepped back to let the knight take his vengeance out on the king, alone, realising that he would only get in Gwaine's way if he tried to help.
Now Lot went careening backwards, his feet back-pedalling furiously on the treacherous terrain as he tried to keep his balance, still in that weird slow motion. The fresh swell of rage that flooded Gwaine was clean and clear in its intensity, then.
It was a tidal wave of pure incandescent anger, over which he had no control. He hit Lot twice more before the stunned man fell backwards, both good solid shots with his empty fist, as the other still clutched his sword. Lot crashed into a tangled knot of soldiers who had been running to his aid and their mouths opened as they yelled. The entire scene was strangely soundless, and the suddenly frightened men began to scatter in slow motion as the other knights joined in, fuelled by their own anger at being unable to prevent Dante's fall.
But Gwaine wasn't paying them any attention. Instead he was on Lot again, his hand closing tightly around the other man's throat, choking him and at the same time pushing him down to the ground, deeper and deeper into the thick bog of blood and mud – threatening to drown him in it. His other hand dug his sword point into the earth so that now he had his other hand free. Lot's arm came up, like a sleep-walker's, but Gwaine avoided the dagger he'd been clutching, that would have otherwise sheered through his face, and deflected the blow with his gauntleted wrist, slapping it away. The movement continued, his arm drawing back.
The weird elongated noises around him drew away. Time slowed down even further, and his fist leaped forward an inch, then ducked back as Lot squirmed slowly, mouth half-open, blood splattering down from his nose.
That was when Gwaine let him go, his fingers cramping. Time snapped like a thick rubber band, and there was shouting and screaming going on.
Morgana appeared to be ordering a retreat, and Arthur was calling his knights to regroup. The two sides split in an instant, Lot dragging himself away from a furious Gwaine and running to Morgana's side.
"This isn't over!" She promised Arthur, before vanishing into the woods with the last of Lot's men.
The knights couldn't believe that they had not only survived hell itself, but driven an entire army into retreat. By now, the storm had also stopped, and had vanished just as quickly as it had arrived, leaving clear skies and brilliant sunshine overhead. None of them seemed to notice, however. There were no triumphant celebrations or cries of relief, as each of them suddenly realised the cost of their so called victory.
Staggering weakly to his feet, Gwaine felt the rage subside in an instant – draining away like water down a plughole – and his entire body trembled with exhaustion, pain and grief. He dragged himself slowly back to where Dante was now laying. His shoulder was on fire – or so it felt – so intense was the pain. But even greater was the pain in his heart as he drew closer to the lifeless form only a short distance away.
His knees buckled, a metre or so from her, but he didn't care. He continued on, pulling himself on his hands and knees through the mud and the puddles, straggly hair now plastered to the sides of his face, just desperate to reach her.
Finally, he made it, and gently lifted her head, cradling it in his lap, trying to urge life back into her body and looking desperately for whatever spark of life remained. His tears dropped onto her face, leaving tracks of white through the grime of blood and battle that stained it.
"Dante!" He took her hand, feeling how icy cold it already was. "Oh please, no..."
Percival dropped to his knees on Dante's other side as the others stood around helplessly. For those first awful moments, Merlin was frozen to the spot. He knew that magic could save her, but there was no way he'd ever be able to use it without Arthur knowing. And now really wasn't the best time to reveal his secrets to the magic-hating King. So he was just as helpless as everyone else.
"Dante just hold on, alright? Just hold on. Come on, just stay with us. You're gonna be ok," Gwaine continued, his voice threatening to crack with emotion as he continually rubbed and shook her shoulders, stroked her face and desperately tried to earn some kind of response. "You're gonna be fine. Just fine...Come on Dante, please...don't do this! Not now! You promised me! You swore I wasn't going to lose you today! Don't you dare break that promise now!"
And then, finally, his persistence was rewarded. She coughed - a ragged bark that brought up even more blood, and her eyes flickered briefly open. She stared up at him weakly, the hint of a smile touching her bloodied lips, before she slid back into unconsciousness again. Still, Gwaine could see uneven movements of her chest rising up and down with each breath, and knew that she was at least alive - if barely.
"Gwaine?" Arthur asked tentatively, also crouching down.
"She's still fighting," the knight told him, feeling the faintest of flutterings beneath her chest as her heart fought to keep going. "But only just."
"Then we need to get her back to Camelot, as soon as possible."
"She'll never make it," Gwaine sobbed, unashamed to show his tears now. As they gathered around, the other knights hung their heads sadly, and Percival gave her hand a futile squeeze of encouragement.
Then Merlin crouched beside Gwaine, his own cheeks wet, though whether he was crying or it was simply the water dripping from his sopping hair, it was unclear.
"I can help her. Gaius has taught me enough about this kind of thing. If we hurry, there's still a chance."
He didn't know how much help he really could be, but then what did it really matter? She was dying anyway. He couldn't really do much worse.
"You're positive?" Gwaine asked, though there was no hope in his voice. It was as if he'd given up, already. And looking at the amount of blood that Dante had already lost, added to the fact she was barely breathing and had turned a deathly shade of pale, it was understandable that he would feel this way. But unlike Gwaine, Merlin hadn't given up just yet. Because he had magic on his side. And what was the point of having magic, if he couldn't use it in these exact situations? And glancing at his mother's hut - which was just a few metres away, he was struck with his first big idea.
"I'm positive," Merlin nodded sincerely. "She's not lost to us yet. Get her into that hut and I'll do my best while you figure out what to do next."
"Sounds like a plan," Arthur agreed, leaping back to his feet. "Leon, we need a way to move her. Anything you can find to get her quickly and safely back to Camelot. Hurry."
"Yes Sire," Leon was moving in an instant.
Arthur bent down and very gently scooped Dante into his arms. "Come on sunshine," he muttered to her. With Gwaine, Merlin, Percival, Elyan and Tristan in tow, he ducked through the door to Hunith's hut and laid Dante gently on the bed.
"Do whatever you can," he told Merlin, clapping him on the shoulder before he left to help Leon. Percival pulled off his cloak as Tristan helped Elyan to limp over to a wooden stool and sit down.
"Here," the knight said, awkwardly and one-handedly tearing off large strips of it and passing them to Merlin. Whilst Merlin pressed wads of the torn cloak against the wound to Dante's chest, the other knights did their best to patch each other up with the torn shreds of cloak. It appeared that of the eight of them who had entered the village, only Leon and Arthur had come out of the fight with minor scratches. Even Merlin had earned himself a nasty looking cut to the back of one hand, though at the moment, this was the least of his concerns. Keeping Dante alive was his priority, and with Gwaine hovering over his shoulder, the pressure was really starting to build up.
"Gwaine!" he snapped eventually, losing his temper. The knight looked stunned, but backed off never-the-less and the others, sensing that he needed space, departed the small hut to wait outside.
"I'm sorry," Gwaine muttered eventually.
"Me too," Merlin nodded, immediately regretting raising his voice. Gwaine was just concerned, and rightly so. The young warlock weighed his chances then. Should he attempt to heal Dante, with Gwaine hovering over him? It would mean the knight would discover his secret - but Merlin trusted Gwaine more than he trusted any of the others. Still, right now Gwaine was not in his right mind. Could he be trusted not to reveal Merlin's secret?
Sadly, Merlin decided that now was not the time. He would be forced to resort to the old fashioned methods of non-magical treatments, at least until they were back in Camelot.
...
Twenty minutes later, the group were finally ready to set off once more.
Leon had uncovered an old, disused wagon round the back of one of the other huts, and after hitching Elyan and Percival's horses to the front - using ropes and belts to patch up the old worn out harness as much as possible, they laid Dante gently inside, on a mound of their cloaks, plus a few furs they had found in another of the huts. Her wound had been padded and bandaged to the best of Merlin's abilities, given the circumstances and lack of resources.
He'd had to use his own neckerchief to stuff into the gaping wound, because it simply wouldn't stop pumping out blood (being so close to her heart). It was just as painful for him to press the material right inside the wound, as it probably was for Dante, and he thanked the heavens that she was unconscious. There was no telling how much agony she'd be in now if she was awake.
Once he'd declared her ready to travel, Elyan and Gwaine - who were unable to ride their own horses because of their respective wounds - climbed up into the wagon whilst the spare horses were tethered to the back. Merlin, Leon, Percival and Tristan rode on either side, escorting the wagon whilst Arthur took the lead. Elyan settled himself so that he was sitting half sideways, his wounded leg propped up on a wooden part of the wagon. Then he took the reins and they started off back towards Camelot, whilst Gwaine sat with Dante in the back.
It was half a day's ride away, though considering it was now early evening, they would be forced to travel through the night to get there. They could travel at no greater pace than a fast walk, without fear of causing more harm to Dante during the trip, but Merlin had secretly cast a healing spell over her as Gwaine had finally left him alone for a few moments to help with the wagon, so he was confident that even though he had not healed her wound, she would now at least hang on until they reached Camelot.
What was going to happen after that, he could not say. But Gaius would be on hand by then anyway, so everything should be just fine.
He hoped.
...
Morgana watched anxiously from the shadow of the trees as the knights rallied to the fallen Lady, doing everything they could to help her. When Gwaine had declared that she was alive, she'd breathed a silent sigh of relief, watching them carry her into a nearby building. She stood silently for the next half an hour, waiting and watching. Eventually Dante was brought out and laid inside the wagon, and the group started off back for Camelot.
Once the group were out of sight, she finally turned to King Lot, who had been stood beside her the whole time, nursing his own wounds.
"You stupid fool," she spat, her eyes sparking gold as she struggled to control her anger.
"You told me it didn't matter if she got hurt!" He protested, raising his hands in defence.
"Hurt! Not killed! I need her alive!" Morgana snarled, throwing out a hand and sending him crashing backwards into a tree. He slumped to the floor unconscious as the very trunk of the tree cracked and splintered under the impact of his body, and after debating whether to stab him in the back with his own dagger - the one he'd turned on Dante - Morgana thought better of it, deciding that she would force him to endure a long, drawn out punishment instead. Then she stalked away, leaving him where he'd fallen.
She'd deal with him later.
Quickly jumping into the saddle of her waiting horse, she started to follow the group back towards Camelot, staying close enough to keep an eye on Dante, but not close enough to draw attention to herself.
They travelled through the night without a break, clearly desperate to reach Camelot as quickly as possible, and every now and then, one of the knights riding alongside the wagon would ride alongside, slide from their horse to the carriage whilst still on the move, and take over the reins as their own horse plodded alongside. After a while, someone else would similarly swap with them in a kind of tag-team relay. Moving from moving horse to moving carriage was awkward at first, even for the uninjured Arthur and Leon, but eventually everyone got the hang of it, and it became quite easy for them to transfer between horse and cart with relative ease, meaning that they could keep moving and not waste time stopping.
They crossed the borders into Camelot just after midnight and stopped once, at dawn, to let their horses drink from a stream and give everyone a quick ten minute break. Gwaine remained by Dante's side the entire time, muttering to her and stroking the stray strands of hair from her forehead tenderly.
They pressed on again after the very short break, each man forcing himself to continue on through whatever physical and mental barriers were threatening to break them at any moment.
Morgana had to finally stop tailing them when they reached the lower town, but made a silent promise to her fallen acolyte that she'd see her as soon as she was able. Then she turned and galloped back towards her distant hovel, before anyone could notice her and raise the alarm.
Not that anyone was paying attention to anything other than the sight of the five knights, King Arthur and Merlin escorting the dying Dante to the Palace, however.
Within an hour of their return, the whole kingdom was buzzing with the news. Nobody knew why Arthur and his knights had ridden out the day before. Neither did they know why the Lady Dante had accompanied them. But everybody now knew that she was fighting for her very life up in the castle, and as so often happens when several people try to speculate and guess what really happened, the rumours began to fly, growing wilder and more outrageously unbelievable as they were passed from person to person.
If Gwaine and the others hadn't been so worried about Dante, they'd have laughed at the rumours - maybe even made a joke of them. But not now.
Now was no laughing matter, and if Dante died, Gwaine doubted he'd ever laugh again.