protected - dnf

twenty, pt. 2

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          There was shouting in the town square. A war party, coming through on their way back to the castle. But this one seemed different from the others.

Tommy and Tubbo paused on the side of the street, watching the Mercian soldiers and sorcerers walk by, waving triumphantly at the citizens of Wilbur's city.

"What's going on?" Tommy asked a passing soldier.

The man grinned broadly. "We sent the King of Camelot packing," he said, "and we've captured his sorcerer!"

Tommy's eyes widened, and he pushed forward through the crowd a little, even as Tubbo protested from behind him. He needed to see, needed to know if it was really –

He broke through the front of the crowd and, in the middle of the war party, he saw two soldiers carrying an unconscious man between them, his feet dragging in the dirt. The man was passed out cold, his head lolling to the side, and he was bleeding, badly, from a wound across his chest. He looked like shit, knocked out and beat-up and familiar, and Tommy clenched his jaw.

"George," he muttered.

"Tommy," he heard Tubbo say, grabbing his hand from behind. "Tommy, we've got to go."

Tommy took one last look at George, who looked so small and fragile, and then he nodded, turning around and following Tubbo back through the crowd and towards the castle. As they went, he explained to Tubbo, in a low, hushed voice, what he had seen, and what it meant.

He needed to talk to Wilbur.

Clay had never been more purely relieved to see Sapnap than he was when he entered the Great Hall to see him battered, but alive, and he suspected the feeling was mutual.

"Clay," Sapnap shouted, running towards him and practically tackling him in a hug. Bad wasn't too far behind. Clay looked disheveled compared to them, having limped directly into the Hall still wearing his dirty, dinted battle armor, while they were in their usual day clothes. They were the only two people around; Clay wondered if they had been talking, strategizing about what to do if he hadn't returned.

The happy reunion didn't last long. As Clay was embracing Bad, he saw Sapnap's face fall, the knight searching for someone who wasn't behind him.

"Clay," Sapnap said urgently as Clay and Bad broke apart. "Where's George?"

Clay hesitated.

Bad's hand flew over his mouth. "Oh, God – is he... is he gone?" he asked, his eyes suddenly welling up with tears.

Once again, the scene replayed in Clay's mind. The last he had seen of George, he was being swarmed with Mercians, but they weren't trying to kill him. They had forced him to the ground – restrained him.

(George had told him to run. He had told him to run, so that's what Clay did. He couldn't be blamed for that. He couldn't be blamed for the way they had bashed the handle of a sword into his head, even when he was already pinned to the ground --)

"He's alive," he made himself say, and Sapnap exhaled shakily as Bad's shoulders slumped. "But he's been captured by the Mercians."

Bad furrowed his brow. "Captured?" he echoed. "Why would the Mercians want to kidnap George?"