Title: Turning Pages.
Summary: A ficlet miscellany inspired by random music/desserts/quotes/movies or thoughts. No slash.
Inspiration: Challenge from The Heart of Camelot. 'An Interesting Use for a Scarf.'
A/N: Hello! Long time no see, huh? After a long and well-deserved hiatus because of reasons ( the finale broke my heart, too.) I'm back to this little drabble series. :) I am so sorry for the long wait. For those of you that I left hanging with kid! Merlin: don't worry I will be returning to the fluff very soon. :)
(I wish I could answer each of your reviews individually but I hardly have time to post this. Just know I love you all. *blows kisses* )
Signal.
"My Lord, they are almost upon us."
The High King raises a hand and with it a silent command that shushes the anxious cry. His eyes are steel and storm, roaming over the darkened battlefield and the charging army. His hand does not waver even when his lips open, as if to speak, only to be interrupted by the broken whisper of the knight beside him.
"Your Highness, we need to attack now if we want to achieve victory-"
"And how-" comes the booming, grave voice of the Once and Future King. "- do you expect to do that? Have you forgotten who's the one responsible for all of this? A priestess of the Old Religion?"
He turns around to fix his gaze on the young, inexperienced knight. Though the young man's pupils are trembling there is no fear in the King's, only unwavering faith in something none of his subjects can see. King Arthur's mouth is a thin line as pale as his sunken cheeks but his eyes are courage and strength. They are hope.
He then speaks, lowering his voice and wiping away sweat from his brow. "Everything will be alright. We are just waiting for the signal."
"The signal, My Lord?" repeats the weary man.
"Yes. We cannot fight men that are fueled by the darkest sorcery." he pauses. The High King's pale eyes are once again looking over the field, unconsciously narrowing as he searches. "Ordinary men, however-" There's a flicker of a smile when he sets his sight upon the highest hill. "- those are destructible." a nod, almost imperceptible. The words that follow are but a whisper. "...Idiot. He always did say it would be useful."
The knight adverts his gaze from his King's transfixed eyes and he, too, sees the white stallion standing on its hind legs and the rider raising one pale hand that holds within its grasp a worn piece of fabric. The ragged thing waves like a banner on the howling winds.
"Very well, then." The King grips his sword and marches forwards. He whistles once and then screams, petrifying every last living soul with his battle cry, "on me!"
They charge.
Guess this is now AU? *deep sigh.* anyway, have a great day people!
Love,
Ocean.