Deserter

TWENTY-EIGHT

{Chapter Triggers: lots of fighting, head injury, swords and blades, 1 minorly bad word, manipulation, self-sacrifice. Those are all I can think of/figure out from reading through the chapter, I apologize if I missed any and feel free to inform me.}    

Roman barely made it to the throne room in time. King Thomas had insisted on staying there when Patton had told him he wasn't healed enough to be fighting.

He burst out of the servant's hall entrance as Deceit knocked Logan away from himself. The strategist collapsed on the floor, his head hitting one of the stairs up towards the throne. The king wasn't there, but the door to his chambers was just behind the raised dais.

Patton cried out and made a move towards Logan, then stopped short and drew his knife. The terror was clear in his eyes as he gripped the handle.

"Hey!" Roman barked, already running forward. Deceit turned at the sound of his voice and smirked.

"Ah, the soldier. So nice of you to join us."

His voice was the same one that had spoken in Osmil, the one that had made Virgil so upset and scared. Measured and sweet, it almost seemed to roll off his tongue as he spoke.

"You should be with your men." Deceit chided as he met Roman's first attack. "What kind of leader would desert them during such a battle?"

"They know what to do." Roman sneered, glaring at him. He was not giving this smooth talker the satisfaction of playing with his mind.

"As do you, clearly." Deceit chuckled. He seemed unfazed by the clear anger on Roman's face, and the knight zeroed in on that, wanting to wipe that stupid smirk away.

He barely realized that Deceit was talking. He was so focused on the fight, on what he'd been working for the whole time he stood at the King's side. 

This man was in charge of the Tricksters that had made so many attempts on King Thomas's life. He was the reason Roman had patrolled through full night shifts over and over, shoving away the grip of sleep as it tried to reach out for him. He was the reason for the repeated reconstruction of their battle tactics and training.

Roman slowly realized he was beginning to lose ground. It was inevitable, he supposed, Deceit was many years older than him and while Roman was very skilled the other man had quite a bit of experience on him.

He brought his sword up to block an attack of Deceit's and felt his fingers go numb as the blades connected with each other. His weapon dropped to the marble floor.

"You're pitiful, Sir Garrat," Deceit sighed in disappointment, knocking Roman backwards. "Imagine the man you could have been if you had been given the proper training."

"I have proper training. You teach criminality as a way to get what one wants."

"Do I?" The man raised his eyebrows, a winning smile on his face. "I hardly think so."

Roman glared, flexing the fingers of his hand slowly and trying to get the feeling back into them. Deceit calmly switched his grip on his sword.

"Is it really fair for one family to hold the throne in the way the Sanders monarchy has?" The liar asked sweetly. "To give one group, with similar ideals, such a long reign where they are allowed to impose their beliefs? It is incredibly dangerous. Imagine the danger they could pose if they decided to use that to their advantage."

"And you believe that putting yourself on the throne would be better?" Logan had regained consciousness. He sat up slowly, with Patton helping him.

"I believe that things should change." Deceit replied calmly. "And it seems the first step to that is to remove the three of you."

He brought his sword up.

"That is enough!"

All four of them looked up. King Thomas drew his sword slowly, watching Deceit.

"Your Majesty-" Roman tried to protest.

"I will not stand idly by and lose the men who have put themselves through so much for my life and my people. You will not touch them while I still have breath."

Deceit paused, tilting his head. The smile stretched across his face dropped and Roman recognized the dangerous sharpness that replaced it.

"I have no problem remedying that."

He rushed up the stairs. Rather than duck away from the challenge, King Thomas stepped up to meet him, forcing the man to stay on the top stair as he fought.

Roman shook his hand and rubbed it, working feeling back into his fingers fully. He wasn't going to just sit there and watch his king die.

Finally the painful tingling stopped and Roman leapt to his feet, snatching his weapon.

'Be careful!' Patton mouthed, frowning worriedly. Roman nodded and gritted his teeth, crossing the space between himself and the other two men.

Deceit was ready for him, unfortunately, and he was clearly more than capable of dealing with two swordsmen.

Patton helped Logan inch backwards, away from the three men. He left his knife behind, more worried about the rather vacant look in the head strategist's eyes.

"You're weak, Thomas." Deceit hissed as he ducked under one of Roman's attacks and retaliated. "You'll never be able to measure up to the great rulers of this land."

"Respect his title!" Roman snapped, ninety percent on reflex.

"Oh shut up." Deceit snapped.

"Not as long as I have breath in my body!"

The Tricksters' leader rolled his eyes. "What is the significance of that phrase? You've used it, your king has used it, it seems everyone is willing to put their breath on the line. Ridiculous."

"As ridiculous as the cape you're wearing?" Roman retorted.

Deceit opened his mouth to respond, but Roman heard something in the hallway. He kicked the man backwards, down the stairs, and stood next to King Thomas.

That laugh. that terrifying laugh. He'd heard it so many times that it made him twitch on reflex. Deceit must have heard it too, because he turned to face the double doors of the throne room. Roman pulled King Thomas backwards, putting the throne between the two of them and the madman.

The doors burst open, forced into motion by a body hitting them at a high speed. The man, clearly identified as a Trickster by the tattoo on his wrist, crashed to the floor and lay silent.

The laughter died off as Virgil surveyed the scene. He locked eyes with Deceit and rotated his wrist in a circle, his sword blade swishing through the air.

"Get the hell away from my brother."

{does this chapter seem a little ramble-y to anyone else? Let me know}