Out of Time

Chapter 50

Arthur stood on the wall, trying to be as quiet as possible as he stepped up to where Danielle stood on the wall. She stood there like some ethereal spirit, skirts flapping in the breeze, the early morning haloing her form. He wanted to grab her up in his arms and never let her go.

But first he had to get to her before she fell. He didn't think he could bear that, not after what he'd just seen.

One expected to lose children from time to time. Some were never born, while others died of illness or injuries. On rare occasion, a child might even die from malicious intent, or in less secure places, from attack. But still, the sight had been a haunting one, one he'd never expected. It ate away at his insides, not because his first child was dead, but because of how she'd died. It ate away at his sense of right, of justice. Or so he told himself.

He didn't really trust himself right now. He feared that his emotions were dangerous, and that he could very easily do something he would regret. Looking up at his wife standing so precariously on the wall, he feared she would do something she would regret as well.

With two more stealthy steps, he wrapped his arms around her lower legs and tipped her backwards. She cried out as he stepped back, but then he loosened his grip, allowing her to slide to her feet. He turned her so that she faced him, then buried her face in his chest, holding her tight. She didn't cry. She didn't even move.

They stayed that way for a long time. Eventually, she lifted her head, turned around in his arms, and leaned back against him. They stayed that way in silence even longer.

Arthur started to believe she would never talk to him again when a single word slipped from her lips. "Army."

He almost thought he'd imagined the word, but as he looked out to the horizon, he saw something. Squinting, he leaned forward, and he could just barely make out a dark mass in the distance, a mass that glinted in the early morning light.

#

Dani woke up in their chambers... alone. At first, she just stared at the ceiling, feeling numb, her mind skittering away from reality. She kept remembering that precious little bundle she'd held in her arms just hours before. She kept telling herself that the child was just a room away. She kept telling herself that she'd just had a bad dream.

But Guin's comforting shattered the illusion, and the nightmare became reality once more. The bloody mess. Falling against the dead body on the floor. She absently remembered the blood that had been on her hands, on her gown, as she stood on the wall. She remembered marveling at the quantity.

Then she remembered the army on the horizon, and she gasped. She jumped out of bed, hearing but not hearing Guin's protests as she ran out of the room. She raced down the hall and down the stairs as the legends she remembered played off in her head. In each, Arthur always died on the battlefield, right? At Mordred's hands? Could she be wrong?

And yet she didn't feel wrong. Some intuition screamed at her that Arthur was in danger, that Arthur would die today. She'd never known such ominous certainty in her life. She had to save him. She couldn't lose him too. It would be too much. Just too much.

"Merlin!" she screamed as she reached the bottom of the stairs. The Great Hall was eerily quiet. "Oh, where is he? Merlin!" She screamed his name again, this time so loud her throat became raw with the strain. Breathing heavily, dread filling her, she waited, praying to whatever gods would listen that he would come quickly, that he could hear.

Merlin slammed open the door leading to the tower, breathing heavily. "What's the matter, Danielle?"

"Can you tell if someone is near?"

"Who are you looking for?"

"Mordred. I need to know if he is on the battlefield."

Merlin closed his eyes, opening them a moment later. "He is."

"Shit."

#

Arthur sat on his mount, knights and soldiers at his back as the army approached. A blinding rage unlike anything he'd ever experienced overwhelmed him, dividing his focus. More than anything, he wanted to find the traitor that had torn his family apart, avenge his wife and daughter. And then maybe, Danielle would recover. He hated that—at a time when she needed him the most, when he should be hunting internal enemies—an army called him away, forcing him to protect his home and his people from without.

Time drew slowly on, the army coming closer, the sounds of shifting metal and antsy horses at his back. He wanted to race out and meet the army, but he'd done what must be done. He'd sealed the castle walls, brought his armies outside the gates, and would vanquish this enemy the same as he'd done with every other.

And as the enemy approached, his back grew straighter and his chin higher, inversely proportionate to how deeply screwed they were. The army before them outnumbered them by quite a lot. He had archers on the wall. They would be the first to attack, and they would help to thin the enemies numbers, but probably not by enough.

Though it did make him proud the way his men stood their ground, not showing unease or fear in the face of a far greater enemy. They'd fought greater odds before, he had no doubt. They were well trained, possibly the best trained in the entire region. They would prevail, though many would die this day, he felt certain of that. It couldn't be helped.

So long as Camelot remained standing when all this was finished, he would be content. That was all that mattered, because everything that mattered to him awaited behind its walls.