Chapter warning: blood, gore, violence.
The cage door swinging open, with such force that it breaks off and clatters to the ground, sliding to hang off the edge of the stage, snaps Alfred out of his stupor and he jumps to the side, rolling away from Arthur. And just in time too, as he feels the rush off air from the wolf ruffle his hair, he turns to look at his friend.
Arthur had lunged from the cage with such force that his front paws smashed through the solid wood of the stage. Had Al been but a millisecond slower in dodging, that would have happened to him, and without his armour...
But he doesn't have time to think on that, as, to his horror, Arthur rips his feet free, sending wood splinters flying, and dives at the poor girl narrator.
The girl screams as her pure white robes are dyed red with her blood.
Alfred's feet are moving before he can fully process what's happening.
With all his strength, he slams himself into the wolf's side. The force is enough to make Arthur stumble, but not enough to stop him.
Not enough to save the young woman.
Arthur, teeth firmly embedded in the girl's right shoulder, yanks his head up, turning to look back and glare at Alfred, effortlessly ripping the girl apart in the process.
And Alfred stands, shaking, as he looks up, completely horrified at the blood soaked and dripping face of the wolf he had come to call a friend. But he's not shaking in fear, rather, from the cold.
Looking down at him, Arthur's eyes are shining as he growls, ears back in threat, part of the girl's shoulder blade visibly sticking out the left side of his mouth as he bears his teeth.
Alfred hadn't noticed it before since he had become so accustomed to the cold, but ever since the moment Arthur broke free, the temperature has been rapidly dropping, and now he can see their breath as ice spreads across not just the stage, but the whole courtyard.
Slowly Al steps backwards, shaking his head, not able to tear his eyes away.
"Arthur... What have you done?" He whispers, voice heavy with shock.
But he hears no voice in response, no words enter his mind as Arthur growls louder and lunges at Alfred, mouth open wide. Al stumbles back, tripping and falling over the broken and icy stage to land on his back, staring at the shattered bones and flesh of the girl that fall from the wolf's mouth.
He closes his eyes, turning his head away as he braces to be attacked, only his instincts take over.
Al blinks, looking back up.
His sword, his real Sky Blade was still in his hand, and without realising it, he had brought it up to block the attack, his right hand holding the hilt, his left palm pressed flat against the smooth side of the blade, supporting the other end, the runes glowing their gentle blue as he's pushing back against Arthur's open mouth.
"Arthur stop this!" He shouts.
But still, he hears nothing as the wolf pushes down on him more.
Al frowns, letting him, using his sword to guide Arthur's head up past his, while also pushing himself to slide down and under the wolf. He quickly rolls out from under the wolf, turning, he raises his sword in defence as Arthur turns.
After being slowed with shock, Al's mind is now racing with a thousand questions. Why isn't Arthur answering him, what happened to his saddle, why is one side of him more mud covered than the other, how did he end up here, and why is Arthur attacking him?
But Alfred doesn't have time to figure out the answers as he suddenly becomes aware of the sound of hurried marching.
"KILL THAT BEAST!"
A roaring call shouts and Alfred recognises it as the Kings voice.
He has his back to the courtyard, but he doesn't need to look to know that the guards have come running, and now Arthur is faced with the Kingdoms army, and Alfred is caught in between them.
Arthur's green eyes having never once stopped glowing, shine even brighter as he raises his head and lets out a deafening howl. The air chills more as wind whips up around the wolf and rapidly spreads out, snow forming within, causing the area to be instantly blanketed in a blizzard.
"Arthur!" Al shouts, reaching forward, but only meets empty air.
Despite having only been stood a few feet away, the wolf disappears completely into the storm, the normally sunny Capital now wrapped in a total white out.
The sound of screams and cries of terror fill the courtyard before the stage, and the shouts of the guards barely reach Al's ears over the roar of the wind. He can hardly see his hand in front of his face, but that doesn't stop him jumping down to follow after the sounds.
Fighting through the winds strong enough to knock a man off his feet, Al's eyes widen as he sees pools and trails of red staining the thin layer of white snow on the ground. He feels sick as he nearly trips over the severed arm of a guard, only identified as such by the cracked armour it's still encased in, next to part of a woman's head, the face missing, long hair and bone entangled in the visible brain.
But he pushes on, running towards the shouts of the guards, past dozens of bodies, he finally finds the wolf. Six guards have Arthur cornered between the walls and pillars that ring the courtyard. With their large shields they push the wolf back and trap him, while one thrusts his spear out, aiming for the wolf's heart.
"NO!"
Al runs towards the group, but before he can make it the spear strikes, but instead of piercing, the tip shatters, and while the guards are surprised by this, Arthur attacks. His eyes shine brighter again as he lets out such a deep and terrifyingly animalistic growl, that something deep inside Al's soul shudders at that sound as ice spreads out like daggers in a flash from the wolf, incasing each of the guards in a giant, jagged icicle, freezing them solid.
Arthur growls lowly as he fixes his gaze on the young knight, slowly stalking forward between to of the ice shards. Despite himself, Al stumbles backwards as he meets those eyes.
Eye's devoid of all kindness.
Of all reason.
Of sanity.
Of Arthur.
These are the eye's of a beast.
Of one blinded by rage.
Of a hunter.
Of a killer.
The beast lunges and Alfred raises is sword...
Meanwhile...
Matthew worriedly paces within the Great Hall. The hall, filled with people from all over the Kingdom and beyond, is large enough to easily hold over three hundred people. And it needs to be, as they've all come to see one thing.
Tightening his hold on the fake book in his arms, Matt turns his gaze from the people to the object of their attraction.
Sitting behind a case of magic imbued crystalline glass, that can only be reached by one very specific spell, on the plushest of red velvet pillows, guarded by four unmoving guards on either side, is the Shard of Talmeré.
The Shard, a fist sized crystal of swimming black mixed with deep royal purple, and specked within by dots of arctic blue, shines in the light of the magic orbs floating high above. It's an extraordinary sight, and also a very powerful magical artefact from the Days of Old. It's only ever brought out of the vaults once a year, for the Winter Solstice festival. The Shard serves as a symbol of the Kings power, and it's use in the High Moon ceremony serves to demonstrate to all just how powerful he is.
No one, other than the King himself and the royal jeweller, are ever allowed close enough to touch it, everyone else can't even get nearer than the twenty feet away that the guards are maintaining at all times.
And they're going to steal it.
He paces more around the edges of the hall, worrying over what he's about to do. The sounds of music from bards, and singing and laughter do nothing to soothe his fraying nerves.
It was one thing to plan this all out, but another entirely to be standing here, minutes away from attempting to steal the Kingdoms most valuable relic, right under the guards noses as well.
What was he thinking?
He needs to find Gilbert, call the plan off and-
In the distance someone screams and the joyful atmosphere of the hall falters as people question it's origin.
And Matt stills with it, before rushing to the massive floor to ceiling windows to look out over the central courtyard. The position is awkward, as he can only see the side of the stage over the roof of the lower part of the castle surrounding the area.
As he tries to see what's happening a gust of wind blows, making the stage curtains flutter, and he gasps, covering his mouth with his hand at the sight that meets him.
One of the actors is standing next to the wolf as it tears apart a girl before his very eyes.
He feels sick, backing away from the window, he accidentally bumps into someone. Whoever it was must have followed his gaze, as soon there's a scream from behind him, and suddenly, the entire Hall is in chaos.
People start to flee in all directions, confused and scared as suddenly ice starts to freeze all over the walls and more screams from outside fill the air. A group of guards go running past the open doors with shouts to hurry and protect the King, and Matt is jostled as people shove past him.
He stares at the doorway, as suddenly there's a blizzard out of nowhere, blowing with such force that it fills the hall, confusing everyone even more.
It's impossible to see anything two feet in front of him, the whole castle must be in complete disarray right now, and the King and all the guards are distracted.
...It's perfect...
Gil must have realise the same thing, as suddenly he's by Matt's side, red eyes glowing.
"Hurry and switch the books!" He somehow shouts the whisper in Matt's ear, tugging him in the direction of the throne, where the real book sits on a pedestal, waiting to be read.
Forcing himself to ignore the horror outside, he nods, and hurries to switch the books. With the true tome in his hands, he silently recites the needed spell within. Gilbert, meanwhile, moves to the now unguarded case holding the Shard. With his specially enchanted gauntlet for just this moment, he reaches through the glass as Matt dispels it, and switches the Shard with a near flawless replica.
"Got it." He says, making his way back to the blonde with his sight magic.
"Then let's get out of here."
"Right. Time to go get wolf boy."
Alfred, driven by fear and self preservation, swings his sword into the side of the beast. But it does not cut like he expects, instead it clangs, and slides down the creatures side. He let's the blade carry him, moving with it to dodge the jaws of the beast, and as he moves, he sees why his attack failed.
The wolf's fur is frozen.
It's coated in a armour of a million tiny icicles.
But while Alfred was distracted by this revelation, the beast took advantage, twisting it's body as Al moves along parallel to its side, it swings it's tail round, slamming it into Alfred's chest, hard.
Sent flying through the air from the hit, Al lands painfully on his back in the blood soaked snow covering the stone tiles.
"Arrgghh!" He grunts in pain, his right shoulder dislocated by the impact.
Dazed and in pain, he isn't able to get away before the wolf is suddenly above him, growling and dripping blood mixed saliva down on his face. He tries to scramble backwards, but the beast brings one of it's large paws down on his injured shoulder, claws digging in to holding him in place.
"Aaaah!" He can't help his cry of pain as his nerves scream at him from the paw pressing painfully down on his shoulder, causing him to drop his sword.
He can feel his heart racing as his breaths come in pained gasps, squinting up at the beast above him.
"Ar...tie..." He gasps out through gritted teeth, "S...sto..p..."
His eye's widen as he's helpless but to watch as the wolf brings it's head down for the kill, going for his neck.
'Artie...'
He pleads in his mind, in too much pain to even speak, and, miraculously, the wolf pauses, staring down at him.
'Artie?' He tries to ask, but somehow that doesn't seem right, that's not how he did it before.
'Ar- Artie?'
The wolf continues to stare, looking him right in the eye, and Alfred feels like an idiot, realising the answer to at least one of his previous questions.
Arthur's attacking him because he doesn't recognise him.
The makeup, the black hair, he hardly looks like himself, but his eyes, blue and bright though pained, are still the same.
Fighting through the pain, Al lifts his uninjured hand to rub his sleeve over his face, hurriedly trying to remove as much of the makeup as possible. Once he's gotten as much off as possible, he forces out a pained smile.
'It- It's m-e... It's me, Artie.'
The wolf blinks, hot breath with the stench of death puffs over his face as finally, finally, he hears a small distance sounding voice.
'...Al...?'
Reaching his hand up to rest on the wolves face, Alfred's smile becomes more genuine at hearing the voice at last.
'Yeah, it's me. Come back to me buddy.'
The wolf blinks a few more times, before the pressure on his shoulder lets up.
'A-Al... I...'
Al watches as Arthur pulls back, removing himself completely from Al as if he'd just been burned, shaking his head.
'I...I...'
Glad to be free, but even happier that Arthur has returned to his senses, Alfred sits up, holding his pained and bleeding shoulder, back soaked in someone else's blood, he still smiles at his friend.
"It's okay." He assures softly.
'No, it's not! I... I was...' Arthur barks back, shaking his head more as if that would free him from the reality of what just happened.
"It is." Al tells him, wincing as he climbs to his feet, "You weren't you for a bit there, but your back now, and that's all that matters."
He smiles softly as he wraps his good arm around Arthur's lowered head, pressing his own to the others, uncaring of the ice cold touch from the frozen fur.
"It wasn't your fault." He whispers.
With all the suddenness of what just happened, Al hadn't noticed he could barely feel their bond, but now that it was back, he could feel everything that Arthur is feeling.
So even though he knows they're standing surrounded by the bodies of countless people Arthur just slaughtered, he can't hate him for it.
Not when he's feeling this scared.
Not when he's feeling this heartbroken.
He won't hate him.
Because it was instinct.
It was fear.
It wasn't Arthur.
He could never hate Arthur.
Authors notes: Mmh yup, that happened. Happy-go-lucky hero story, this is not.
I left it kind of vague on numbers, but there is a death count here, get it right and you must be psychic or something.
Okay, so I'm trying to not be too graphic here with the gore and stuff, and since I don't want to have to push the rating up, but well, it's kind of necessary to get the right feeling across. So if anyone feels uncomfortable from it, I apologise.
R & R people.
Until next time, stay awesome!