Work Text:
Adrenaline surged, and hearts pounded powerfully in the chests of men engaged in mortal combat. Metal sang and hissed as swords danced in a violent rhythm of parry and attack, each side trying to gain the upper hand against their enemies.
A smile grew on the face of a knight as the numbers against them dwindled. The enemy was passionate, reckless, and daring. But heart would only get them so far, and the skill of Camelot’s finest far outweighed theirs.
Metal pierced skin with ease and his opponent dropped, freeing the knight to turn and search out his friends. The feeling of impending victory, however, was banished the instant he saw his prince.
Arthur was on the ground, blood dripping down half of his face from a cut on his forehead. He was staring up at his adversary in horror, and as the knight shifted his stare to their foe, he realized why. In his hand was the objective of their mission, a small blue orb. A magical relic said to entrance those that looked into it, seducing them with visions of their future.
Righteous fury filled him as he watched the man ready his sword, his vision tunneling as he rushed forward with a mighty battle cry. He threw himself in front of his prince, blocking the blade of the sorcerer with his own.
Their eyes met, and time slowed as the man grinned, the world suddenly gone quiet as the knight heard his blood rush in his ears. His eyes slid from the man’s face, traveling down to the sword in his side, vision greying around the edges as his blade fell from his hand.
The knight fell, landing against the prince’s side as he stared up at his attackers, his gaze slowly drawn to the sword in the surprise assailant’s hand. The world seemed to narrow down to the blood, his blood, that ran down the blade and dripped onto the grass.
“LEON!” Someone far away shouted his name, yet the call wasn’t enough for him to keep his eyes open.
It felt like a blink, but it must have been longer than that as his adversaries were now out cold on the ground. Someone was saying his name.
He turned his head towards the voice, finding that he was sprawled across Arthur’s lap, and the prince was staring down at him with desperation in his eyes. “Leon, stay with me. That’s an order from your prince, Sir Leon.” He ordered, eyes wet with unshed tears.
He slowly registered a pressure on his side, looking down to where Arthur was trying to staunch the blood flowing from his wound. There was no pain. He’d heard stories, been told that if you were too far gone to save, then you wouldn’t feel pain as you died. He had never believed that. He had brushed it off as an old wive’s tale, nothing more than a myth.
But there and then it was rather hard to refute it as fact. Even as Arthur tried his best to stop the bleeding, Leon felt his life slipping away from him. He smiled, a sluggish hand moving to cover Arthur’s. “It’s okay, Sire.”
The prince shook his head, a tear dripping down his cheek. “It isn’t. Leon, please.”
The knight inhaled slowly. “Arthur. I am not worth your tears.” He murmured, voice soft and breathy.
Arthur breathed in sharply. “No, Leon. If anyone is worth them, it’s you.” He whispered, coming to terms with the knight’s impending death, his hand leaving Leon’s side to grasp his hand tight.
A faint chuckle left his lips as Leon tasted the copper tang of blood on his tongue. “It has-” His eyes fluttered shut before struggling open again, locking with Arthur’s. “It has been an honor to serve under you, Arthur, my prince.”
He gasped for breath, using the meager remains of his strength to squeeze Arthur’s hand back. “M- My king.”
His vision faded to black.
Chest heaving, Leon tore his eyes away from the blue orb as the apparition disappeared, head reeling. If that was the future, then…
A glint of light caught his eye, the sorcerer drawing his sword. With no time to think and no consequence waiting for him that he could ever bring himself to regret, Leon charged forward.