Sirius swaggers closer, a pleased grin on his lips. "We did it," he says, sitting across from Remus at the dying fire. "Ole Parr wasn't too bright, was he? Barely even a thousand men."
"You are far too confident," Remus says calmly. "The King will not give up so easily."
Remus glances behind him. They had been victorious, but their numbers had fallen. Any skilled strategist would know that they could hardly stand another battle.
"This isn't the same as tearing down fences," Remus continues, passing his flask to his lover. "This is the closest to war as we'll ever see. We've lost people, too."
His eyes close as he remembers James, speared by a soldier's sword. He wonders what Lily will do now, a widow and young mother whose husband had died a traitor to the crown.
"Mark my words, Remus. We'll show those greedy bastards that the common men won't take their sodding boundaries. It's not the way of the countryside. What right do they have to take our land?"
"Hear, hear!" someone calls, overhearing the passionate speech.
All eyes are suddenly on Sirius. They look to him with the same respect that they show Kett.
"We're taking back what is ours!" Sirius cries, raising his fist in the air. "Let them come! We shall cut them down just as we cut down the last of the King's puppets!"
A roar of approval sounds. Remus wishes that he could share his lover's excitement and passion. He wishes he could still believe that they have a chance. But Remus, though he's fallen into the life of a farmer, is still a scholar at heart. He listens to reason, and reason says that there is no way that they can come out of this alive.
"Should have run and accepted the pardon when I had the chance," Remus sighs, grateful that Sirius cannot hear him over all of the excitement amongst the men.
…
"Where are you going?" Sirius asks.
Remus swears softly under his breath. He had hoped not to wake him.
"Your watch isn't for another couple of hours," Sirius says, patting the ground beside him. "My bed is awfully cold."
"Hardly a bed," Remus snorts, though he sits beside him, taking Sirius by the hand. "I miss my bed. I miss having fresh food every night. The bread is stale, and meat is growing more and more scarce each day."
"Sacrifices are essential in war," Sirius insists. "We've captured Norwich, Remus. We're a step closer. We'll take back our land. You'll see. All of this will be worth it in the end."
Remus shakes his head. "The King isn't stupid," he reasons. "He will have learned from his mistakes. He'll want to crush the rebellion as swiftly as possible. Do you truly believe that we could stand victorious after another attack? Kett's intentions are good, but what will happen to us when a larger army comes to call? Do you really believe the King will be so merciful? We've denied our pardons once. We won't have the opportunity to take them again."
"When we are finished, it will be the King begging for a pardon," Sirius laughs. He studies Remus in the moonlight, his expression fading to something darker, something more pained. "You're running, aren't you?"
Remus stiffens and turns his head, unable to look at Sirius.
"I'll be damned. Of course I would fall in love with a coward," Sirius hisses.
"Sirius-"
"Go on, then. Go! And when we are victorious, you had best pray that Kett doesn't see your abandonment as treason."
Remus returns his gaze to Sirius. "Come with me."
"And live the rest of my days as a coward?" he scoffs, shaking his head. "I would sooner die."
"The way things are headed, that just might become a reality," Remus whispers. "Please, Sirius."
Sirius rolls over onto his other side, facing away from Remus. "Go on, then. Run away, Remus. You're too soft for the rage of war, anyway."
Remus recoils as though Sirius has physically struck him. The words hurt, but Remus endures him. "God be with you," he says, stroking Sirius' hair for a moment before climbing to his feet.
"And with you."
…
He's on the outskirts of the town, so close to freedom when he hears the outbreak of battle behind him. Hesitantly, Remus turns, his heart sinking as he takes in all the trained men closing in on the rebels.
For one mad moment, he considers returning to the battle. There's no winning.
"Sirius," he whispers, his fingers twitching for his sword.
But he cannot go back. Perhaps Remus is a coward after all, but he would rather live a free man than die for a hopeless cause.
His hands shaking, Remus draws his hood over his head before ducking into the woods.
…
"What's that?" Remus asks one of the peasant women peddling chickens outside the castle.
Her dark eyes narrow, and her lips twist into a frown. "Surely you heard of the rebellion, yeah? Some mad fool, Kett's his name, fancied leading forces against the noblemen and royals."
As they draw closer, Remus can recognize Kett at the front, his hands bound, his face bloody. Remus' eyes pass over each of the prisoners until they fall upon a raven haired man in the middle with piercing grey eyes.
Remus' heart sinks. He wants to run to Sirius, to beg for his life to be spared. But the strong set of Sirius' shoulders, the way he holds his head high and proud tells Remus that it is best to let things happen.
"Off to the Tower for that lot," the woman whispers, shuddering as she nudges Remus. "I hear over three thousand rebels were slaughtered!"
"And the others?" Remus asks, wondering how there could be so few prisoners.
"Who knows? Maybe they got lucky and received pardon. But them? They'll be hanged, if they're lucky."
Sirius catches Remus' eye as he passes, a hint of a smile forming on his lips. "Long live the rebellion!" he cries.