✧･ﾟ:*When the sword is drawn from the stone, hope blooms within the rebellion.
But fates and destinies are fickle things and with the legend of the sword being fulfilled, another prophecy becomes set into motion.
Renly has been a part of the rebel...
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It felt as if the time had slowed down. The fighting in the streets became nothing but muffled background noise and the beating of Renly's heart slowed to an alarmingly even beat. The panic and fear that had filled her every sense only moments ago had given way to sharp focus and clarity.
A plan.
Renly had always been at her best when formulating plans.
She moved faster than she had ever moved in her life, jumping from rooftop to rooftop, against all instincts screaming at her to go back, she moved away from the fighting, away from the blood-soaked city square, and away from her people.
There was little time as she moved swiftly, to look up at the sky at her giant chessboard. This was a gamble unlike any she had ever taken before. There was no time to carefully plan, no time to come up with any alternatives or escapes. If she failed she would die.
She would die either way.
This was a hail mary, a crazy sort of plan that Arthur might have come up with. There was no finesse or style to it and had anybody pitched it to her during their time in the rebel camp she would have slapped them over the head.
They had never been able to formulate a plan to save a prisoner from the dungeons of the castle. It had always been the one, singular plan she had never been able to perfect.
While Goosefat Bill had always been a slippery man with a talent for escaping capture, others in the rebel army had not been as lucky.
How many sleepless nights had she spent in the war room staring up at the mountain ceiling trying desperately to make a plan to save her friends from the axe or gallows?
How much guilt had she carried for never finding a way to execute it?
How many times had she shed tears in the dark for all of the people she had failed to save?
It was supposed to be impossible.
But as the castle's defenses all seemed to have become directed solely towards the incoming threat of the army of commoners and criminals, it created the perfect setting for one last mission. One last plan.
It hit her suddenly how ironic it was that she was running back towards the castle, taking the same route she had used only minutes ago to escape its heavy walls, back to where she had left Arthur.
Arthur.
Had he made it to the tower? Was he already facing his uncle in battle? Was he lying dead on the floor somewhere?
Renly's formerly clear head fogged with the terrifying image and she had to shake her head to rid herself of the instinct to run towards Vortigern's tower to help him.
They had both made their decision, there was no going back now. There was nothing she could do for Arthur, whether he was alive or dead. But she could help the people fighting for their freedom in the streets, she could help her dying friends, the people she considered family.
Focus.
She ordered herself.
With a newfound determination, she finally reached the wall she had climbed to get up onto the roof. The streets below had emptied since she had moved through them only minutes before. All of the blacklegs who had not joined the fight in the middle of the city had abandoned their posts and fled.
It was to be expected she supposed. At the end of the day, not all Blacklegs could be as cruel and loyal as Mischief John, most of them were only men.
She made her way down as carefully as she could while still keeping up her speed. There was no need to be silent or subtle anymore.
Her breaths came out in short bursts as she finally reached one of the castle's servant entrances.
During her time trying to develop a plan to rescue prisoners from the castle dungeons, Renly had found as much information on the layout of the castle as she had been able to.
Speaking to every contact and friend they'd had with knowledge of the castle.
It had all seemed like a waste of time back then, but as she moved swiftly and with surprising ease through the winding hallways, she felt the urge to smile.
Her father had once told her that knowledge was power and it had always stayed with her.
Knowledge was power, and Renly's mess of a mind held a lot of it.
Her good luck finally ended when she turned a corner only to come face to face with two Blacklegs who had been sitting by the dungeon door, both on high alert because of the fighting in the city.
They rose at once, both of them drawing their swords at the sight of her.
She could feign innocence, pretend to be a lost servant. But there was no time for subtlety and finesse.
Renly sprung forward, her hand drawing her sword from her belt, then she ducked, sliding across the floor and narrowly avoiding one of the men's blade. Her own slashed at the knees of the one to her right before she moved swiftly to the left and brought her sword into his back. She pushed his body away from her and off her sword before turning around and in the same movement slashing the other's neck.
Renly felt his blood coating her skin and she watched him fall to the stone floor gagging.
She glanced at the two bodies. The brutality and ease with which she had killed them should have worried her. Renly had always counted her kills before. It had been a habit created out of the conscience that plagued her. She always wanted to remember the men she killed and why. She found as she took a moment to catch her breath, that ever since the day she had rescued Arthur, she had lost count of the blood she spilled.
It was not indifference, no, she still felt the guilt gnawing at her, it had become acceptance. This was war. It had started the day Arthur had pulled that sword out of the stone, and it would end today.
She could linger on the blood staining her hands when it was over.
When she was dead.
Renly turned around to take in the locked metal gate that stood between her and the staircase down into the dungeon.
She grinned. She had never met a lock she could not pick.
It was slightly nostalgic, crouching before a lock and hearing that successful click as she worked her own type of magic upon it. The hairpins she kept hidden within her braid once again did the job. It had been a shame she had not been put in the cells with her people after their capture, she might have gotten them all out much quicker.
Instead, she had been forced to stay in the large throne room listening to the mad king babble.
When she reached the end of the staircase she was met with the sight of metal cells lining each side of the hallway.
"Renly!?"
(I'm so sorry for the slow updates. When I started this story I had an outline for literally everything but the final battle and beyond. I have written and rewritten so many possible ways for these last couple of chapters to go. I like how this turned out, even though it feels slightly rushed. Feel free to let me know what you think! <3)
(I feel like I need to explain this scene some more, in the movie Bedevere and the rebels save their people but in this book they are kept inside the castle and not in the cages. :)
(Our girl Renly is a fighter, but she will always be a strategist first.;)
