Win or Die
Disclaimer: I own none of the King Arthur characters. I only own Sansa.
Part 1
Chapter 6
Sansa stood next to her father and brother, fully outfitted for the battle today. They stood at the head of the army, and the men of her family were conferring strategies.
Sansa was all nerves, gripping the hilt of her short-sword, her bow was strung across her back. "Sansa, you will go with your brother," Cerdic remarked, drawing his daughter's attention. Sansa nodded, without answering, her eyes meeting Cynric's, before they returned to scanning the horizon around them. "And Cynric, you will follow Raewald,"
Sansa followed her brother through the ranks, the faces of her birth country's men flashing past her like the waves of tremulation fluttering faster and faster in the bottom of her gut. Each man picked up their weapons and stood at attention as Cynric and Raewald passed by them, steeling themselves for the heat of battle soon to come.
Cynric nodded to one of the nameless men as they neared the ranks before his hand rested on the shoulder of his close friend, his sword, lifting it in the ever-ready air.
A series of closely timed first footsteps, one lost among many in the stomping march, started toward the gates of the Great Wall. Sansa swallowed her nervousness for the events before her, Raewald closer to her than before.
Looking around once more, Sansa trampled down the urge to vomit, instead focusing on the easy, powerful movement of her brothers' shoulders and all the muscles surrounding them. Cynric looked back to her, "Sansa," he called, gaining her attention. "To me," he requested, crooking his finger at her.
Sansa moved to Cynric's side, without speaking, feeling almost like a scolded child by the tone he used; which was exactly the one Cynric had used when she was naughty as a child.
To Cynric, Sansa's nerves were palpable. "Sister," he spoke, pulling her closer by the way of a hand on her shoulder. "It will be fine, I will protect you," Cynric promised her, softly, squeezing her shoulder.
"I have no doubt, Cynric," Sansa replied. "But I fear that it will not be enough. Not for you, not for me," Sansa murmured, her eyes wide with fear.
"My lord, my lady- look," Raewald called, pointing to the top of Badon Hill. Sansa and Cynric looked up, to see seven knights on top of the hill.
The Knight in black armor, sitting atop a black horse; Sansa recognized him, and it stole her breath away. Lancelot.
"Your knight is up there, isn't he?" Cynric questioned, in a whisper. Sansa nodded, unable to tear her eyes away from the striking figure he cut, even from a distance. "I told you, didn't I?" he asked, squeezing her shoulder again, seeming pleased.
Sansa turned away from the sigh, looking at her brother. "Cynric, he was so angry with me when I left…" She murmured. "I was sure he'd leave…I hoped he would," she continued. Cynric gave her a questioning look, but Sansa shook her head. "I was hoping he might use his brain…But I suppose I was stupid to think so," She spoke, turning to Cynric.
She forced the emotion down, her eyes becoming empty. "What are we waiting for? Let's finish this," Sansa called to Raewald, who nodded at her words.
Screams echoed around Sansa, her vision tinted red, slashing wildly at anyone who decided to attack her. Cynric had been right beside her in the beginning, but slowly, bit by bit, they were pushed apart by the fighting.
Sansa was careful to disarm, only killing when necessary. She was lucky, not to be hurt so far- only inflicted with bruises and cuts so far.
A hand suddenly clapped around Sansa's upper arm, and Sansa whipped around to see Raewald, and she relaxed. "What, Raewald?" She demanded, trying to yank her arm from his grasp.
"Cynric wants me to get you out of here," Raewald said simply, towing her through wave after wave of fighting.
"No!" Sansa cried, struggling to get away, as they reached the wall. "I won't leave him!" It was unclear, even in Sansa's mind, whether she spoke of Cynric or Lancelot; or both.
Raewald released her arm, only to throw her against the Wall. "I don't recall giving you a choice!" she heard him hiss through his teeth. Sansa's head bounced against the hard surface, before the rest of her body collided with the wall, knocking all air from her lungs, pain exploding across all her senses.
Sansa's body crumpled against the wall, and no one noticed as Raewald completely blocked her from sight; not that anyone would notice- they were understandably distracted. "Raewald…" she whimpered. "Why?"
A smirk spread across the man's face. "Because my king commanded," he answered, drawing a dagger, his intent clear.
Pushing past the pain, Sansa sprang at Raewald, aiming to knock the dagger from his hand, and succeeded- only because of the element of surprise.
Sansa was quick to draw her own dagger, preparing to plunge it into Raewald's neck, to find his hand around her throat, the other gripping her wrist. Raewald easily lifted Sansa off the ground, her legs kicking out aimlessly. She gasped, her face turning red, and then purple, as Raewald squeezed her neck tighter and tighter.
Sansa's sight was rimmed with darkness, and that darkness was growing larger and larger. She realized Raewald meant to kill her by choking the life out of her, or breaking her neck- whichever came first. So she struggled to do anything that might ease his grip.
But her attempts were weak, sluggish, as the oxygen deprivation affected her body. Just as the darkness was taking over her vision, Raewald stumbled forward, as if struck with something.
The hand around Sansa's wrist loosened just enough for her to force it free, and plunge her knife into the point where Raewald's neck met his shoulders. Almost immediately, the hand around Sansa's neck eased, and she crumbled to the ground, gasping for air.
Raewald still stood; teetering slowly, before crashing to the ground. Behind him stood Gawain; his axe ready to strike if the man required another blow to take him to the afterlife. When Raewald didn't move, Gawain lowered his weapon, stepping over him to Sansa.
"Gawain!" She gasped, taking the hand he offered to pull her to her feet.
"I thought you might need a little assistance," Gawain offered with a wan smile.
"Thank you," She said, bowing to retrieve her dagger from Raewald's neck. "It turns out my father is trying to get rid of me. I must go return the favor," Sansa remarked, her face downturned as she prepared herself to re-immerse herself in the fighting.
Gawain caught her arm, making her look back. "Lancelot is looking for you," he said, softly. At the name, the empty look in Sansa's eyes faded, replaced with something else, something Gawain didn't recognize.
"I hope to see him again," Sansa told him, wistfully, before tugging her arm away, and going in search of her brother. It became abundantly clear to Gawain that Sansa did not expect to live through this battle- or see Lancelot ever again.
Gawain swore, heading back into the fray. If he could reach Lancelot, maybe he could point him in her direction, and hope to all the Gods that it wasn't too late.