Excalibur's Seven | ✓ [LGBT]

~ 27 ~

WHEN MORGANA WOKE UP, his head was pounding, and his throat felt like he'd stuck a hot poker down it. His limbs were too weak, he could hardly move a muscle. He was laying on a dusty floor, nothing but faint torchlight in the distance illuminating the cell.

The only thing he could think of were his friends. He had no idea where they were, or if they were ever coming back. Honestly, he hoped they never did. They'd be killed the moment they got within a mile of the castle, and he was just the bait.

He had to find a way to tell them not to come. There was only one thing he could think of, but he was only strong enough to open his eyes. Even that was straining. So he closed them again, mustering up whatever inkling of strength he had. He still had the prince's name, so he used that.

He thought with all his might, of warning Kit and nothing else. He wanted to tell him more, but he could only manage a single word.

"Kristofer," he ground out before his thoughts left his mind once again.

* * *

Arrows pierced through the prince in more places than one. His forearm, shoulder, his thigh. There was a another, but he could hardly comprehend where it was until he was stumbling out of the tunnel with everyone else. He didn't even take them out as he climbed onto the horse, following the druid as they raced away from the crumbling mountain.

Snowy mist was already surrounding them, but the mountain wouldn't collapse for another several moments. He urged his horse faster, trying to outrun the rumbling following after them.

Snow and rock broke away from the peak at last, mimicking the valley's tragic history as it rolled down towards them. Right before they were crushed beneath the avalanche, they took cover behind another hill, not looking back for a second as they ran to safety.

They continued to run until the rumbling behind them was gone and they were tucked between the shelter of tall trees. The sun was already on its way back up, and once the adrenaline was gone and they took a moment to breathe, Kit felt the effects of his exhaustion.

Blood stained the snow as his leaking wounds registered in his mind.

"Kit, let me help you," Giselle urged when he fell to the ground.

"No, Lionel first," he insisted, pushing himself into a sitting position. He realized then that the fourth arrow was lodged beneath his ribs, but luckily wasn't as deep as it could've been, slowed by the thick material of the formal armor he hadn't removed since the ball.

Giselle obeyed, taking the boy and tending to his bleeding chest. He would be okay, Kit knew, but he refused to be the first to be healed when Lionel was in pain.

He didn't pull the arrows from his body until Giselle was ready for him. "Your side first," she told him, and he cried out when he yanked it from his flesh. The princess placed her hands on the rapidly bleeding wound, shutting her eyes.

Kit tried not to scream as she healed him, but his efforts were useless, and his voice echoed off of the trees as he cried out.

Giselle only healed the other places enough for him not to bleed out, then wrapped what was left in pieces of her dress. He didn't know how she managed to make it this far in such massive skirts, but she was graceful enough that he didn't question it.

They cleared the snow from a patch on the ground, all in desperate need of a nap, though no one intended to sleep fully until they got somewhere safer. A couple hours later, Chalice woke them up and they started off down the mountains once again, searching for the nearest village.