YOU CAN'T ESCAPE DESTINY | Arthur Pendragon [2]

To Protect

Third Person's P.O.V.*

1... 2... 3... 4... 5... Annabelle counted in her head silently, hoping for it to be enough to quell her anger - anger at herself, but more than anything, anger at Hengist. The man in question was currently sitting on what Annabelle had dubbed his throne, the chair covered in the furs and bones of the animals he had killed. He was looking right at her, a hungry glint in his eye and an unbearably smug smirk on his lips. It took all of Annabelle's willpower to clench down on the magic thrumming beneath her skin, trying to break loose and make Hengist pay. It had been a while since she had to focus this hard to control her magic. When she and Merlin were children, magical accidents happened on a near daily basis and gave their poor mother the stress of a lifetime. Since their teenage years, however, both siblings had been able to almost completely control their powers. The only instance in which that ceased to be true was when their magic sensed danger, either to themselves or to those they cared about. In this case, Annabelle's magic begged to be released, was fighting her every step of the way so that it could do what it had always done best: protect. In this very moment, Annabelle's magic wanted nothing more than to protect Lancelot.

"What do you say?!" Hengist suddenly called to his men, rising from his throne. Annabelle gulped, grimacing as her magic once again tried to break free. She could feel Lancelot behind her, could feel the rise and fall of his back as he breathed while they sat back-to-back, their hands bound, awaiting their fate. "Shall I spare them?" continued Hengist, his brows falling in mock sympathy as his followers laughed gleefully.

"Kill! Kill! Kill!" was his answer as the men gathered around the cage began to chant, grabbing onto the bars and grinning murderously at the witch and her knight.

"I am so sorry," Annabelle could not help but say, turning her head as much as she could to at least get a glimpse of Lancelot's handsome face from the corner of her eye. "I should never have agreed to let you help me. You're here because of me and I am so sorry," her voice broke at the end, as her eyes filled with tears. Despite her plan, one that she knew would work, she still could not bear the thought of anything happening to Lancelot because of her.

"You have nothing to be sorry for," assured Lancelot, his voice as warm and kind as ever. "I am my own man, I make my own choices. And I do not regret this choice, nor will I ever," Annabelle had to look away then, eyes rising to look at the ceiling as she fought the onslaught of more tears. She did not deserve this man. She did not deserve his devotion, nor did she deserve his love. Not when she knew that she could never fully return it, "Your reminded me of who I am. I will die with faith in my heart. That is worth more than anything," continued Lancelot, blissfully unaware of Annabelle's inner turmoil.

"No."

"No?" Lancelot turned his head as much as their proximity allowed, trying to understand what the young woman was saying.

"No," she repeated. "You are not going to die with faith in your heart, Lancelot, because you are not going to die at all. I won't allow it."

"Annabelle..."

"No," she snapped, before closing her eyes, attempting to once again calm herself as her magic renewed its fight against her control, "I have a plan," she finally said after a few short moments, her voice now calm as she turned her head in his direction again.

"You what?" Lancelot's eyes widened. He had been prepared to die. He had already acknowledged these moments as his last; and now here was Annabelle, turning his world upside down yet again.

"Do you honestly believe these dimwits could have caught me if I hadn't let them?" asked Annabelle, her lips turning upwards into the smallest of smirks as she glanced behind her, briefly catching Lancelot's eye as his own lips twisted. This was the woman he had fallen for - and honestly, how could anyone blame him?