CHECKMATE [ARTHUR PENDRAGON]

Chapter 6: Lancelot

Disclaimer: I do not own BBC's Merlin, their characters nor their plot. I do however own the Princess Arwyn and Sir Geralt. Their character and story arcs remain my intellectual property.  

Hooves thundered against the fallen trees along the muddy tracks. A crossbow hung loose from the saddle, it's bolts dripping with water used to erase the remnants of its hunt. As the wind teased at the loose tendrils that had slipped from her ribbon, she smiled widely at her guard. It was moments like this that she truly felt free. Surrounded by nature as the sun beat down on their backs, miles from the political noose around her neck. Delving deeper into the forest, her hairs stood on end. Pulling Falen to a halt, the princess tilted her head – a concentrated frown knitting her thin eyebrows together. The world seemed much quieter than it had ever been. The birds had ceased their song, the leaves had failed to quiver in the morning breeze; the only sound was the whisper of their breath on the air. It was eerily quiet. Too quiet.

As she flickered her calculating stare to the darkened, scarred glare of her companion, a shrill scream broke through the vacuum that had consumed them. Snapping into action, she kicked the black stallion – forcing him into a brisk canter. A commotion up ahead spurred her further as she clutched her dagger, ignoring the concerned warnings from the knight that struggled to keep up with her.

Reaching the source of the danger, she watched wide-eyed as a large creature retreated deeper into the forest. It was like nothing she had ever seen before; the head of an eagle on the body of a lion. Calls of help from a voice that was not at all unfamiliar, drew her attention. Dismounting with haste, the small princess was met by a panic-stricken friend.

"Merlin? Are you alright? What happened?" She rushed, quickly kneeling by the serving boy. Her eyes landed on the dark-haired stranger; blood seeping out over his blue shirt, prompting her to put pressure on it. As her hands pushed down on the deep wounds, her gaze wandered up to Merlin as he told the tale of the monster attack between heavy, laboured breaths. Her eyes widened in shock as a hot sticky red liquid poured between her fingers and the sound of hooves thundered to a halt behind them.

"What the bloody hell..."

"We need to get him to Gaius." The princess interrupted her guard, ripping a large strip from her long tunic and tying it around the man's torso in an attempt to bandage the wound. Deep crimson smears stained the light fabric of her dress as she ran her hands over it and ordered: "Put him on the back of Falen."

"My Lady, I should take him."

"I'm the faster rider. He needs medical attention now." The knight hesitated – unwilling to allow her to ride back to the castle unaccompanied. Sensing his lack of action, her expression grew stony. "That's an order."

Upon the magic words that bound him to her service, Sir Geralt nodded curtly. There was no arguing with the stubborn young woman. He sighed through his nose as he swung the younger boy over his shoulder with ease before placing him behind his princess on the pitch-black stallion. Without another word, Arwyn had nudged Falen onwards, clipping her heels against him as he pushed forward in a strong gallop. The wind whipped at the fallen ends of her hair and her hands trembled with adrenaline. Glancing back momentarily at the man whose life was now – quite literally – in her hands, Arwyn nudged the horse once more. Her legs burned and ached as she finally crashed through the gates of the castle; unaware of how she had found her way. Upon viewing the shower of blood, a swarm of knights drowned her, calling for the king. However, her only worry was the dark-haired stranger.

*

Her flickering, wide-eyed stare landed on the bloodied clothes that lay atop her bed. The scarlet stains had long been banished from her pale complexion, yet she could still sense them; lingering. The stone tiles beneath the window grew etched with her pacing, the soles of her shoes grew warm with the friction. Her hand rested against her bottom lip as her gaze continued to wander, engulfed in thought. Water dripped from the ends of her freshly washed hair as she sighed and turned to the man who had been watching her continuously: