Chapter Text
Clashing noises broke through the silence of the night as Sebek woke up. He couldn’t remember falling asleep, but he must have.
He looked to his side. Atlas wasn’t still anymore. Instead, the man had reached towards Sebek and dropped him in a branch further up. Then he moved his pointer finger above his lips and contorted his body to face downwards.
Sebek tried to catch what was happening too, but the more he looked, the more screams and clashes scared him away. He wasn’t sure if he really wanted to see anything anyways.
Each word screeched by soldiers on either side was impossible to decipher. Sebek thought he could hear Leo’s voice coming from somewhere behind him, and, once he pushed aside the leaves and branches in front of him, he could see Arthur slashing through fae.
Suddenly, one such fae smacked against the tree, shaking it ever so slightly. Sebek’s hand slipped against the bark of his branch and tore. He couldn’t stop the pained whine from escaping him.
The fae looked up and met Sebek’s eyes. He said something, but Sebek couldn’t make it out. Before anything else could happen, a sword slashed through the fae’s face and he thudded to the dirt, his eyes still staring up at Sebek as they lost all their life.
Sebek skittered backwards on the branch and pulled his bleeding hand up to his face. The cut was large and he couldn’t feel it. He wrapped the bottom of his shirt around it as quickly as he could.
Atlas didn’t seem to notice the injury at all.
The clashes of swords grew quieter as blood stained the fabric of Sebek’s shirt. He wobbled on his branch. His body felt harder to control. His foot slipped.
Sebek crashed into the thinner branches at the bottom of the tree, directly above the soldier’s corpse. At the same moment, a loud voice broke through the fighting.
“MWA HAH HAH HAH!” It yelled, stopping the soldiers in their tracks. The fae soldiers quickly took the opportunity to duck back as the loud voice continued, “Greetings besieged fae!”
Sebek stumbled to ground level and hunted for a better hiding spot as the man kept going, “Do you see the veritable ocean of Silver Owls banners fluttering out here? No one is coming to save you. And you have nowhere to run.”
There was a bush further into the forest overlooking the bridge that the speaking was coming from. Sebek darted towards it.
“I am Henrick Istvan, leader of the Silver Owls!” The voice, Henrick apparently, continued to yell, “we have tried many a time to negotiate with Briarland in good faith…”
That sounded like a lie. Was this Arthur’s boss? He seemed very creepy. And evil. Definitely evil.
“BUT YOU MADE A MOCKERY OF OUR EFFORTS!” Henrick screeched, Sebek flinched as he reached the bush and Henrick kept talking, “the insolence! The arrogance! Even our vast patience has its limits.”
“The time for diplomacy has passed!” Henrick showed no signs of stopping aside from occasional breaks to gasp for air, “only by the sword can our differences be resolved!”
“Behold - our brethren blanket the land! Your downfall is all but assured!” He just kept on going, “Accept you defeat and relinquish the miraculous Majestic Ember magestone and Castle Wildrose!”
Majestic Ember magestone? Sebek kinda knew what that was, but it wasn’t a negotiation thing. How can you negotiate off an important artifact for your nation that never belonged to the other? That was stupid. Why were the Owls cheering?
“However… We’re hardly the monsters YOU people are,” Henrick explained as though it were basic knowledge, “Therefore, I’m prepared to offer you a way out of this.”
Sebek stared at the man and frowned. You people? That was a terrible thing to say when trying to talk to someone, no wonder their ‘negotiation’ didn’t work. A slight blush flickered onto Sebek’s cheeks as he remembered the many times he’d referred to others by their human or similar titles. What made him any better?
And an offered way out? That seemed like a trap even to the young half-fae. Nobody lets their enemies escape.
Before the discomfort and distrust could fill his soul, Henrick continued talking, “Princess - I challenge you to a one-on-one duel with the Dawn Knight, the captain of our guard!”
Sebek’s eyes shot to Arthur’s still form. The man hadn’t said a word. Sebek’s memory flipped back to the conversation from the night before. They’d only mentioned Lilia, hadn’t they? Where was Lilia?
“If you fight honorably and win, I give my word that we will end our siege,” Henrick’s speech continued to interrupt Sebek’s mind as the child search for Lilia’s face, “you have 30 minutes to decide. I hope for your sake you choose wisely! WAH HAH HAH HAH!”
After that final bout of laughter, the voice cut out. The man was still talking, Sebek could see his mouth move, but it was no longer audible to him.
A hand touched Sebek’s shoulder and he jumped, flipping around as he did. Behind him was Atlas, kneeling in the dirt with his sword poised to strike anyone who came near. The man hadn’t made a sound as he’d approached.
A creaking noise exited the heavy armor covering Atlas’ face. The man gestured at the air, trying to say something, but Sebek couldn’t tell what he wanted.
The scout soon realized Sebek’s confusion and lifted him into a nearby tree. The boy leaned down, but Atlas blocked him from moving.
“You won’t want to see that,” the odd, hoarse, and creaky voice said. Every syllable sounded out of place in the beautiful greenery.
“See that?” Sebek echoed, tilting his head up at the man and frowning. Nothing was happening yet, and they said it was just a duel. You didn’t have to die in duels.
Atlas didn’t respond, his gaze trained on the group that Sebek could no longer see.
They sat like that for what felt like hours, but was in all actuality merely a few minutes, before yelling from the soldier could be heard. Maleanor had arrived to fight.
Atlas covered Sebek’s ears the moment he saw her and dragged him farther back into the woods. The child wiggled and squirmed to get out of his arms, but nothing worked, so he gave up.
Once they were farther into the forest than Sebek thought necessary, Atlas uncovered the half-fae’s ears while keeping a hold of his arm. The sounds of spell fire and metal clashes could be heard once more.
“Stay here,” Atlas whispered, flinching when Sebek spat on his shoulder plate. Sebek shook his head at him, but was too afraid of being heard to say anything. A sudden roar made him flinch.
Atlas stared down on him. Sebek still couldn’t see his face. He didn’t know what the man was feeling, but, whether it was pity or hate, it seemed to affect him.
“Calm,” Atlas said, putting his hand on Sebek’s head as though that would help him, “Calm. Down. Child.”
“‘m not a child,” Sebek pouted, his discomfort somewhat forgotten in favor of outrage, “and you’re not the boss of me, you’re evil.”
“Evil?” Atlas muttered, pointing towards himself dramatically. The motion reminded Sebek of someone, but he couldn’t tell who.
“Yeah,” Sebek said, though he didn’t really have an opinion on the matter, “you go by spider and you sneak around a lot and you don’t have a face.”
“Ah,” Atlas patted Sebek’s head, “would you like to kn-” a loud noise broke through their conversation and Atlas quickly pulled Sebek closer as he continued, “why they call me spider?”
Sebek nodded rapidly, a bright smile covering his face as he clapped his hands together excitedly. Finally, his question would be answered.
Atlas gently moved Sebek’s hands apart to prevent him from making noise and whispered into his ear, “I’m allergic to peppermint.”
“What?” Sebek couldn’t hide his confusion. It was such a boring answer. Sebek didn’t even know that spiders couldn’t have peppermint.
A weak chuckle escaped Atlas’ helmet before it was abruptly cut off. He moved Sebek into a bush, completely hidden from anyone not looking for him, and stood up muttering, “stay there. I must che-”
A black blur slammed into Atlas’ body, and armor scattered across the dirt.
————————————
Leo had been a soldier for longer than he hadn’t. That was, at the very least, how it felt. He was built for it, as far as everyone else said.
He’d dedicated everything to fighting for his nation. Every step of the way was on a bed of nails, but he never stopped walking. He wouldn’t deny that his unique magic was part of the reason for his actions. It was made for killing. If he wasn’t a soldier, he’d be something worse.
He’d watched himself become something worse. So had his sister. They had both paid the price for that mistake. As had the king. His nephew was right to fear him. He was a monster wrapped in human flesh. A reflection of the world's wrongs. A tool to make them worse.
And there he was. Still fighting behind his captain. Always fighting behind his captain even when he caused the man pain. At that moment, though, he was simply standing behind his captain.
Henrick had just finished his speech to the fae troops and turned back to the captain. Arthur moved his head away from the piglike man as he grew closer and started to speak in a slightly quieter yet still disgusting voice.
“Now how will the witch respond? Not that either choice will end in anything but our victory, of course,” He laughed maniacally and grabbed at Arthur’s armor, “yes… I’ll never forget the way the Majestic Ember sparkled the one time I saw it when visiting Castle Wildrose! I must make it mine…”
“And not just the stone. I want that dragon egg!” Henrick cackled, staring at the castle as though his words would bring the egg to him, “dragons are rare indeed. It will be a fine trophy to use as a mount! Mwahahahaha!”
Maybe Leo was lying about the cause of the war when he talked to Sebek. The Ember wasn’t wanted because of ‘land and resources.’ Neither was that dragon egg.
Henrick was a fool. He was letting his people die over and over for the crimes of himself and he didn’t even know the fae he spoke of. A dragon wouldn’t be large enough to carry him until it was at least a century old. If the world remained good, the man would be dead by then.
Leo looked towards Arthur. His captain wasn’t speaking. Through the gaps of Arthur’s armor, Leo could see that he was glaring weakly at Henrick. Still, he did nothing. The inaction was to be expected, no matter how disappointed it made Leo. It was what made him such a useful captain. He always followed orders. As did Leo. Every order.
“What?” Henrick snapped at Arthur, looking fully prepared to strike, “if you have something to say, spit it out.”
Arthur started to shake his head, but suddenly stopped the motion and spoke, “Lord Henrick, I still have grave misgivings about this whole affair…”
Henrick’s face shifted through several emotions, spending extra time on confusion, before finally landing on extreme rage. It had the side effect of making his face look like a particularly unappetizing tomato.
“Keep them to yourself,” he snapped, “or have you forgotten you owe your mangy life to my father for saving you from the streets.”
Leo raised his eyebrows as he watched Arthur’s face fill with unwarranted guilt and a defense spilled from the man’s lips, “…Your father has my gratitude. As does his wife, any you, my lord, and Lady Leah. But nonetheless-”
“SILENCE!” Henrick cut him off before he could make his official stance, “Swordsmanship is all you’re good for, and I’m giving you a way to be useful. Stop questioning things above your station and obey me!”
“Our neighboring countries all live in fear that their villages could be razed by dragonfire at any moment. That’s why they answered the Silver Owl’s summons in such vast numbers,” Henrick continued, rather inaccurately, “the Majestic Ember is a Magestone that supposedly works miracles. If we get a hold of that we could use it to rid my father of his incurable illness.”
Arthur nodded, his visible guilt increasing. He still refused to say a word in agreement or acceptance. Leo hoped that Arthur knew it wouldn’t work, but the man was always a hopeful person. Even in the worst times.
Leo, however, knew that anything they did would just drain the king faster. The man was as good as dead, and Henrick understood that too. He was the one who ordered it. To be a good soldier, one must follow orders. Leo wished he hadn’t decided to be one.
“Leah prays to the stars every day for our dear father to regain his health. You know that already, I trust,” Henrick probably could’ve stopped then, but he continued, “even were we to bow and scrape before the proud fae, they would never give us their aid. This is the only choice they left us!”
“Is it…?” Arthur muttered, almost to himself. Leo tried to hide his small grin. No doubt fate would have brought them to a different destination should their leaders have been faithful to their people.
“Hmph. You’d better not think of going easy on the witch. I expect you to do everything you can to ensure my victory,” Henrick said, delivering his final blow as he turned his foot to leave, “that is, assuming you fight for humanity’s sake, and Father’s… And Leah’s.”
The plump bastard strutted away cockily, fully convinced that his argument had reached Arthur. Bringing up Lady Leah often did.
Arthur watched the man step away before turning back to Leo. They stood in silence for a moment as Arthur collected his thoughts. Finally he whispered, “…Is there truly no turning back?”
Ah. So that was what he had latched onto. They’d never tried, and now it was too late. Leo opened his mouth to speak, but Arthur walked to his side and placed a small candy in his hand, cutting him off.
“Her Highness will be here soon. You should leave and begin your search,” he turned to look Leo in the eyes as the man pocketed the candy, “don’t die.”
“Yes sir.” Leo responded just as quietly. He couldn’t shake the feeling that, no matter what he said, his heart wasn’t in the words.
—————————————
Maleanor arrived in a burst of striking green fire long before her thirty minutes were over. She glared at them with her head held high as Henrick called out her name.
The Dawn Knight couldn’t help but notice that the sky, which had been a lovely blue, turned dark and stormy as though announcing her to the world. Rain started to pour onto his armor, soaking his bones. A warning, perhaps, that neither outcome of this battle would save his shattered soul.
“Well, well…” Maleanor sneered at the Owls as she began to speak, “Henrick of the Silver Owls, the Dawn Knight, and… how quaint, even people from neighboring lands, all gathered together.”
“You’ve come alone. That means you accept the duel with the Dawn Knight, I trust?” Henrick said, and The Knight almost frowned. He wouldn’t be getting out of it. She would have to die. His heart stabbed at his chest.
“Duel? Duel, you say? Hmhmhm… AAAH HAH HAH HAH HAH! By what right do you expect me to abide by your arbitrary dictates?” Maleanor hissed, not yet moving. The Knight swiftly moved closer to Henrick, not yet in front of him, but near enough to block, and strike, if needed.
“You intrude upon our land, despoil our forests and rivers,” she continued, lightning growing closer with every word spoken, “and now you have the gall to demand my castle and the Majestic Ember?”
“Arrogance has its limits… HUMAN.” Her fury melted the air around her as her voice grew in volume, “I, Maleanor, shall smite every greedy human present with my lightning! You shall writhe in the dirt like worms and rue the day you crossed me!”
Lightning struck directly next to them, but Henrick didn’t seem to care. No doubt he was certain that the Knight would protect him. The Knight could no longer be sure that there was no doubt he was right.
“Hmph! And here I was being generous. I suppose there’s no reasoning with her, then,” Henrick laughed, then stepped back to address the soldiers as he spoke, “it’s just as I surmised. She’s a wicked, temperamental witch! But not even dragons stand a chance in the face of so many! Not to mention, we have the Dawn Knight on our side.”
The Knight steeled his will as Henrick’s wife grin turned to face him and commanded, “go forth, Dawn Knight! Strike down the ruler of evil standing before us and deliver peace to all our lands!”
His sword felt heavy in its sheath. The ruler of evil? Was that what she was? Not a person, not a mother, just a murderous beast that would fight her enemy till their entire race was wiped out. Could anyone honestly place another being in that position?
The silence lasted for an instant, then the Knight drew his sword and called, “Guardian fairies… Grant me strength!”
Maleanor gathered lightning into her hand and yelled, “I’ll obliterate you… Not a single one of you fools shall leave this place alive!”
Without another word she threw the lightning, the Knight blocked it, and their fight began.
-
Maleanor hurled spell after spell towards the Knight and the soldier that had joined him in battle. With each attack, he could hear the shrieking of those who couldn’t dodge, and the heavy footfall of those who wouldn’t try.
Each attempt at getting closer was thwarted by a more targeted attack. Her highness knew who the true threat was, and didn’t seem willing to take chances.
The Knight dropped into his ranks for a moment, whispering an idea to a lesser commander, before returning his full attention to the fuming fae princess.
Thorns tore out of the ground and pulled several of the closer soldiers into a tight embrace. The light of spells poured from the back of their lineup. The screams of men followed them in the same area.
Each attack seemed to enrage Maleanor more. She showered them with rings of knife-like thorns that ripped soldiers in two. She roamed closer to better throttle those in lesser armor. She warped the very sky to cover their eyes in rain water as she pulled lightning into their crowd.
Suddenly, an array of swords and spells flew her way all at once. The Knight’s orders were followed.
Maleanor cast a spell to shield herself, but it wasn’t enough. She hadn’t been prepared for as many hits at once, and a few slipped through the cracks. Most of them missed her, but one small dagger hit her directly in the stomach. She shrieked. Everyone froze.
Blood dripped off of her silver wrapped waist and slowly formed a pool on the ground. Her eyes glowed a fuming acidic green as she looked up. A squeak peeped out of someone’s mouth.
Scales trailed up her body as talons burst from her hands. Her body grew larger and wider, her horns extending over a suddenly much thicker neck. Wings burst from her back and purple scales crawled down her middle. Within moments, a massive dragon was standing in place of Maleanor.
She roared and swiped a taloned claw across the line of soldiers, finally pushing them to action as their comrades fling in all directions.
“Is that dragon Maleanor’s true form?!” A soldier yelled.
“She’s massive!” Another screamed.
“She’s a monster!” One of the mages shrieked.
“They can do that?!” Someone squeaked.
“We must face her together!” Someone in the back cried.
The Knight turned his face downwards. He’d been playing defense, but he couldn’t continue on that path. The decision he’d made was irreversible. He had no choice but to fight.
Immediately, he darted forward. He leapt past soldiers as Maleanor breathed fire into the crowd. More people were running, terrified that the flames would catch them. Those that remained were holding out shields like their lives depended on them, which Maleanor seemed keen on proving was true.
As he reached Maleanor’s leg, he slashed at it. Unlike the other swords being thrown, his went clean through the scales. No doubt it was a result of the fairies' blessings.
Maleanor turned her fire to him and smacked his body into the ground faster than he could stop. He crashed through it, landing on his back in a passage he hadn’t known existed.
“What now?!” A voice yelled from right next to him, “something just fell!”
The Knight pushed himself off the ground with a grumble and turned to face the two men he had stopped. One of them seemed to recognize him, “you’re… the Dawn Knight!”
“Did Lady Maleanor’s magic blow him all the way down here?!” The first voice, that belonged to a scaled and green haired fae, yelled, stepping in front of the other man.
The Knight surveyed the other men, his eyes catching on the green haired fae’s armor. They were soldiers. He looked at the other fae. The fae carried a large magearm and wore a mask that looked far too much like a bat for them to be anyone other than, “Vanrouge, Briarland’s General of the Right?”
He looked down and noticed the large black egg in the General’s arms. Was that the prince? Was that what Henrick wanted as a prize?
Vanrouge noticed his staring and screeched, making his companion swiftly draw his weapon and say, “get back, General. I’ll handle this!”
Another roar punctuated their meeting. The ground started to shake. Sections of the tunnel started to cave in on them. Maleanor was looking for him.
“Confound it…!” Vanrouge yelled as the ceiling began to crumble above them. The fae General curled his body around the egg and prepared for a blow.
The Dawn Knight had moments to think of what to do. There was his enemy, about to die at the hands of his own Lady. The Knight wasn’t obligated to save them. His army would be better off if they were dead.
His eyes trailed over to the egg, the child, in Vanrouge’s arms. Could he forgive himself? Would he?
“Guardian fairies… Grant me strength!” He slashed through the falling rock, making a ring of stone around them with each hit. Still, the rock didn’t seem to have any plans on stopping.
“Augh…!” Vanrouge cried as one of the stones crashed against his arm. The Knight moved closer to him and hacked more fervently as he commanded, “keep it together. Is the egg still intact?!”
Vanrouge stared at him, “The… Dawn Knight? Why would you… rescue me?”
The Knight looked over the egg and prepared to respond, but was cut off by another rock smashing his mask into several silver pieces. His hair blew slightly as it was released from its confines.
Maleanor roared from above them, and the Knight quickly moved to help Vanrouge up and muttered, “Looks like we’ve no time to speak at length. Lord Henrick is after that egg. Go, before anyone else spots you! Hurry!”
He waited for no response, leaping into the fight and hoping that Henrick wouldn’t notice his distraction.
-
Maleanor had taken out many more of the soldiers since he had gone under. Their bodies lay all throughout the street turned battlefield, eyes unseeing even as they faced their friends.
A blast of fire shot towards a group of soldiers hiding behind a tree. A smaller group of mages ran over and cast a shield spell, blocking it.
“How can she be so powerful?!” One of the soldiers yelled, cowering at the sight of the still flowing flame in front of him. One of his companions said something about being charred in his armor, but the Knight had lost focus on their group once he knew they were safe.
“Stay sharp!” The Knight yelled at his soldiers, throwing himself into the fight, “don’t get yourselves crushed!”
Maleanor roared and turned to focus back on him as another soldier yelled, “don’t give the witch any room to breathe! Attack, attack, attack!”
Owls ran at the dragon, slashing at every section of her without a single scratch to show for their work. Each group was thrown to the side in an instant, scattering about the dirt as she showered them in flames.
As her flames scorched through the soldiers’ bodies, the Knight approached. He danced past the fallen men and flying swords before rolling under Maleanor’s body.
On the lower half of her dragon belly was a small gash, right where the dagger had struck. Before he could convince himself not to, the Knight stabbed his sword up and sliced it through her stomach.
Maleanor roared yet again as her blood doused the ground beneath her, glistening under the light of her lightning strikes. Dripping with the blood was an unpleasant black substance, almost like ink.
The Knight rolled away from her as quickly as he could. That blood could only mean one thing, and he wasn’t able to handle it from underneath.
As he moved further away, her body began to shift. The changes were small, a string of black forming a crown-like array above her horns, webbed blot covering part of her eyes, a cloak structure behind her neck, but even the small changes indicated what had happened.
The soldiers didn’t notice the change. They continued to yell and run around as the only difference was the earthquake. The Knight, however, knew better.
The fae princess had overblotted, and the Dawn Knight no longer had the chance to keep her alive.
He prepared his sword once again as a glass bowl appeared behind her and whispered, "Guardian fairies… Grant me strength.”
-
The Dawn Knight couldn’t remember how long he’d been fighting. He would look up at the sky every chance he got, but it never changed from its dooming greys and blacks.
Maleanor showed no signs of slowing in her attacks, but the Knight could see her control of the situation slipping rapidly. Soon, it would only be blot.
Many more of the soldiers had fallen. Others were being forced to pick their bodies up and move them if they strayed too close to the battle.
Henrick had taken a nap after the first hour of fighting. He thought they hadn’t noticed, but most of the soldiers had. The Knight wasn’t surprised by the action, though many of the foreign troops were, and simply nodded to the man as he left and returned.
A crash of lightning struck the dead soldiers, sending the stench of their wet burning flesh all throughout the street and the trees beyond. A mage vomited from his seat against his bag.
The condition was bordering on unbearable, even for the Knight. He was exhausted. Every blow sent his way was taking all of his effort to dodge.
Maleanor roared and slashed at his left leg, nearly toppling him. Her fire followed soon after, crashing into a quickly cast shield and smoothly rolling across it. The Dawn Knight rolled away from the flames as fast as he could. Then the shield broke, sending fire through to the trees and several more soldiers.
He would have to end their battle soon.
The Knight forced himself up, the weight of his armor becoming even more noticeable as he did.
“Gaurdian fairies… Grant me strength!” He yelled for his blessing and ran towards the dragon and slashing at her leg. It did nothing. Her leg, already so damaged by other attacks, still moved as though pulled by a separate force.
He looked closer as he dodged another attack. Each wound was full, not of blood, but of black ink. He looked up at the bowl of blot hovering behind Maleanor’s form. If he couldn’t beat her by hitting her flesh, then he would have to destroy the glass surrounding her rot.
She slashed at him again, and his dodge was much closer. He used her leg as a step, leaping onto it before moving to her back. Then he kicked up and slashed at the glass, cracking it in seconds.
He fell back down onto her back, but didn’t waste much time there. He jumped back to the crack in the glass and smashed his sword against it as hard as he could, shattering the bowl into thousands of tiny pieces.
His body turned slowly as he fell. There was no dragon to land on, anymore. He crashed to the ground.
Maleanor lay a few feet away from him. Her body was riddled with bleeding cuts and gashes, and, though the Knight couldn’t see much, her face seemed to be bruised beyond recognition.
“Kill the witch!” A soldier yelled from behind them. Several more soldiers joined in and cheered. The Knight flinched and stumbled towards his fallen foe as she slowly lifted her head.
How could it have gone so wrong? They could have been allies. There could have been harmony. If they had only tried to understand each other, then maybe they could have even been friends. But they choose war. His people, his leader, even himself, all choose war.
They’d killed everything in their paths for the chance at something most of them didn’t even care about. They ruined the lives of thousands.
His mind traveled back to Sebek. A boy whose parents must have known the risks of their love, their partnership, and still went through with it. Why couldn’t they have gone that route? Why must they kill those who’ve found peace?
Raverne flashed through his mind. Another man, another person with a life and a love and a future son. What kind of monster took a parent from their child?
He walked towards Maleanor, huffing up air as he did. She tried to throw a spell at him, but it shriveled up and failed.
“I won’t ask you to forgive what we’ve done,” the Knight muttered, leaning down to her side, “we’ve hurt too many of you for that to be an option. But please… allow me my dream.”
She glared at him, voice too worn to speak as he continued, “I yearn for a world where fae and humans-nay, all intelligent species -can laugh together. Would that one day such a dream can stop being a dream, and instead become reality.”
Henrick started to move closer to them, screaming something unintelligible. The Knight was out of time. He pulled his sword up and, before he could convince himself not to, slashed it through the princess’ neck.
As her head rolled to the ground, the Knight could see Dawn shining through her stormclouds.
Arthur wasn’t sure if that was worth it.
————————————
Lilia and Baur had run from the Dawn Knight as fast as they could, making it to the forest beyond the castle without a moment's delay.
Neither of them admitted it, but they knew they wouldn’t have gotten away alive if the Knight hadn't helped them. It was shameful to need such aid from an enemy, yet, as Lilia felt the smooth green egg in his arms, all he could feel was confused appreciation.
As they darted through trees on the edge of Lady Maleanor’s battle, Lilia could feel Baur hovering his hands over his shoulders. He acted as though Lilia could break at any moment. It wasn’t appreciated.
Lilia shook his head, trying to push Baur away. He was tired, but he would not falter. It was the least he could do for his liege.
“General, it is unsaf-” Baur began to speak, as quietly as possible for the crocodile fae, but was cut off by Lilia running head first into a standing pile of silver armor.
The fae general breathed sharply as his body fell to the group. He flipped over, shielding the egg with his body, and crashed against the ground with a groan.
“Eep!” A squeaky voice sounded from next to Lilia’s fallen form. He craned his neck to the side, moving the egg away from the voice, before gasping.
There in the bush was what seemed to be a child, hiding all but the upper half of his face from sight. His shaking eyes were the same shade of green that Baur’s were. A shade reserved almost exclusively for the Zigvolt family.
Hands swooped out of the bush to cover the exposed skin before Lilia could make out any more details. The child wiggled his body further into the branches.
“Kid?” Lilia muttered, staring at where Baur’s unexpected relative had been hiding. Baur moved closer to Lilia at the words, a questioning gaze set firm on his face.
Before they could do anything, the pile of armor started to pull itself together. Lilia stared at it in silence, trying to figure out if he was hallucinating or not, until Baur looked down and noticed it too.
“The ghost soldier!” Baur yelled, grabbing the helmet before it could advance further. Lilia swiftly snatched the closest piece of armor off the ground.
The ghost soldier was, to be fully accurate, not a ghost, as far as the fae could tell. He was a human who harbored some form of curse keeping his soul alive in armor. None of the fae had found a way to break it.
He had never encountered Lilia’s soldiers, but they had all heard the tales of what he did. The ghost had been the reason for several of their battles being lost, with his stealth unmatched and his immortality unstoppable. When Owls needed information, they used him.
The ghost soldier had only been captured once. It was earlier in the war, when the stakes weren’t as high, and a small platoon had found him in a tree. They’d attacked at first, but nothing hurt him. Eventually they moved onto trapping him and tearing him apart. They thought that would be enough, but at night, when they were all asleep, he had reformed and vanished without a trace.
Nobody had even been harmed by him, but their plans were never safe if he was nearby.
“Keep him apart,” Lilia ordered, trying to keep his voice down, “we can’t have him telling them about our location, especially with the prince so close.”
Baur nodded and wrapped his arms tightly around the helmet as Lilia returned to his guard position around the egg. A small sob sounded from the bush where the child was hiding, but Lilia was too focused on the soldier to pay it any mind.
“We must keep moving,” Baur said, his question clearly resting on the tip of his tongue. What would they do with the ghost if they couldn’t carry him?
Lilia looked at the egg in his arms and sighed, “we’ll have to take a piece of him with us,” he picked up a shoulder pauldron, “here, use this. It should be easier to carry.”
Baur took the metal in his hands and nodded to Lilia as the man turned back to the bush. If the child really was related to the Zigvolts, then it wouldn’t be safe to leave him surrounded by Owls.
“Child.” Lilia said. Baur gave him a funny look, but he paid it no mind as he addressed the kid, “join us.”
“…maybe?” A whisper came from the bush, followed by the swishing of leaves, “why do you look like that?”
What? Did Lilia look strange? He glanced over to Baur, who seemed to have a slight smile on his face. Lilia graciously ignored it.
“Look like what?” Lilia asked, his voice echoing slight offense. He didn’t want to be rude to the child, but they were rude first, so who was really at fault?
“Your hair is long,” the child whispered, his legs becoming visible at the edge of the bush, “I’ve never se-”
“Drain the Unholy!” A voice yelled what could only be a spell from behind them. Lilia jumped to the side, covering his cargo, but not himself.
He felt a slight tingle, but the sudden warped intake of breath alerted him to a different acquired target. The child!
Lilia jumped up, darting towards the bush, but before he could get there, an Owl shoved him to the ground. He curled around Maleanor’s egg and stared at the bush where the Owl stood.
“-eck!” The Owl yelled, reaching into the bush and grabbing the child in his arms. The man started to mutter apologies desperately, but the child was already unconscious.
“We have to leave!” Baur snapped, pulling Lilia up off the ground and dropping the piece of armor, “if we get out fast enough, they won’t be able to follow us!”
Lilia glanced back at the Owl for a millisecond before kicking the ground and running as fast as he could. The child would be safe, the Owl cared for them. He and Baur wouldn’t share that safety.
Just as he was crossing the farthest tree, he could hear the human yell, “Drain the Unholy!” And everything went black.
——————————————————
Ortho flickered on at some point during what seemed to be the night. It was storming all around him and Crow, and the trees were thinning out into a road.
As he observed his surroundings, Ortho noticed a fallen fae leaning against a tree. There was blood dripping onto his face from a branch above.
“Move to that tree,” Ortho told Crow quietly, pointing at the soldier. The fae jumped before taking a deep breath and muttering, “I hadn’t noticed you were up.”
“I’m not surprised,” Ortho chimed casually, patting Crow on the head and snickering, “no go over to the tree. I need to see that blood.”
“What?” Crow asked, though he immediately walked towards the body. Ortho rolled his eyes and stayed quiet until they arrived.
Once they reached the tree, Ortho dipped a finger in the blood and powered a blood tester on. It matched perfectly with what he had gotten from Sebek earlier that week.
On the ground, Ortho saw small drops of blood trailing towards a distant bush. He quickly ordered Crow to follow the drips as quietly as possible.
Lightning crashed around them as the sounds of soldiers screaming filled the air. Roaring noises announced the former princess’ presence.
“It was never meant to be,” a hoarse voice from beyond the bush muttered, “we both knew that.”
“Shut up.” Another voice snapped, and a crashing noise sounded. The other voice stopped for a few seconds before returning, “you know that can’t do anything.”
“You know I can do something,” the second voice snapped, and another crash sounded. Again there was a pause before the first voice returned, “it is a long lasting spell. He will die naturally bef-”
“I killed a child,” the second voice said, completely ignoring the first. The other voice let out what seemed to be a sigh, but instead sounded more like a rasp, and muttered, “you must calm yourself. I see your control draining.”
“I killed the child.” The second voice repeated.
Ortho poked Crow closer to the voices, close enough to see two fully armored Silver Owls. One of them was holding something green.
Ortho pushed Crow closer, dread filling his gut. That shade of green was familiar. Too familiar.
“I Killed Him.” The second Owl said, black goo dripping down the sides of his armor. He tossed a small object at the other Owl. They fell to the ground in pieces. That didn’t matter though, because in the other Owl’s arms lay the limp body of Sebek.
Without a second thought, Ortho leapt off Crow’s back and snatched Sebek out of the Owl’s arms. He checked for a pulse, faint but there, and he could’ve cried in relief.
The blot dripping off of the Owl increased, and he reached his hand over to where Ortho was standing, “don’t- don’t touch him. DROP HIM!”
At the final words, his voice warped into an unnatural scratching sound and he grabbed Ortho’s arm, crushing it in his hands.
Instinctually, Ortho pushed energy from his chest to the broken off material. Normally, the opening would’ve closed off. This time, he didn’t have the power to spare. His body curled down, taking both Sebek and the overblotting Owl down with him.
Crow darted towards them and Ortho’s last processed thought as his power drained was how the fuck he could explain Crow, an Owl, and a tiny Sebek to his brother. That was, if they didn’t all die to the broken machine first.