Chapter Text
It was a dreary day.
Overcast, cool, humid. They were getting a break from the rain, at least, but what came down the night before still ended up transforming the ground into churned mud once under the feet of other soldiers and cavalry. The young man opened the flap to the main tent of their fair king, eyes glancing up at the heavy grey sky.
It was going to rain again, sometime today.
He watched as the various men scrambled around the camp, beginning to rally to a certain point, moving to get into formation. Today was the big day. The Wessex king, Ecgberht, had become a threat to all of them and an incredible pain in everyone’s ass-
No.
Ecgberht was only part of the problem.
But there was an even bigger driving force behind him, wasn’t there?
It didn’t just stop at Ecgberht. It was the very will of those within his borders, those that were bound to him and vice versa. The drive, the motivation of Wessex conquering all, never ceasing to encroach on their borders.
The young man-barely in his early-teens-couldn’t help but frown, raking a hand back through thick brunette waves at the thought.
When the time came, would he be ready?
He had to be. Because if he wasn’t, he would only be going down the same path of others that had fallen to the might of Wessex, others like one of the Bound wizards of Dumnonia: buried deep down in a muddy grave.
He pursed his lips nervously; this wasn’t just some game. They weren’t playing anymore, the Bound of Wessex especially. He had gone so far off the rails-and now he had become a constant threat. There were still others in the family-others to the east, others to the north. Others who had seen the building threat of him and that which he was bound to, who knew that if they didn’t converge to make a stand, they may never get such an opportunity ever again. This included others around his own surrounding region-although after Cumbria, and then after what had happened to Gawen of east Dumnonia (or Devon, as he heard the region starting to be called)-well, last he heard, his brother Cador of west Dumnonia (similarly rechristened Cornwall) had been all out of sorts ever since. Honestly, very few had actually seen him since the incident-some said he wasn’t even alive at all.
He chose not to try and seek him out. Not with so much to do here, not with so much to plan and mediate already. Surely it was more so that and not that he was avoiding the other man, that he currently couldn’t even imagine looking him in the eye after what happened. Of course it wasn’t because he’d failed to see the threat for what it was and would-at this point-be eons too late in extending his hand to help out. Of course it had nothing to do with the fact that he himself used to be so close to the man that killed Gawen.
No.
Of course it wasn’t that.
He was really just too busy , he had an army to help manage, others to collaborate with when the situation was looking more and more grim by the second.
And besides, really: he couldn’t expect to ask too much of the other in his grief.
“Perceval!”
The brunette twisted around from the spot he’d plopped down in by one of the dying campfires, glancing back at one of the commanding officers and straightened a bit. “Ah-yes sir!”
The officer looked him over, unable to hide his skepticism, his hesitation-but their king had made a personal request, who was he to say no?
“We’re gathering in the field,” the officer informed. “King Beornwulf wants you there, stat.”
Perceval looked over at him, then nodded. “I’ll be there,” he assured, quickly rising to his feet and tugging on his helmet, then grabbing his weapons before making his way to the field.
The grassy expanse was filling up quick. He could see young men ranging from two or three years older than him to practically a couple decades older. Or at least, that’s what most of them certainly seemed to think…
He scratched his neck, pale greenish eyes tracing over the area, studying the other side of the Ellandun field, peering towards the horizon in hopes of getting any form of a handle on just how bad the situation really was and what their odds were. He could already see the rising pillars of smoke from the cookfires that belonged to the other camp-they’d been there for the past few days, at least, impossible to miss. That was one of the most certain conclusions he could make about the enemy camp, having watched them settle at the very bottom of the hill just a ways, the wind tearing through their bright red and yellow banners. But now there were men starting to mill around the brim of their expanse, now well-within view, armed and ready with horses restlessly stirring and pawing at the ground, ready to rush into their certain doom-just like their identical brethren on the enemy side.
“Perceval!” a voice exclaimed, startling him and drawing his attention to one of the men from his own side coming up behind him. He didn’t look that much older than him, not like the other two of particular mention that he could see hanging just a ways toward the back. They seemed more so into their late teens.
But this young man-the one who’d spoken to him? The one more or less around his own age, young and probably too much so to really belong here in a place like this, during a time like this? A brother. One of his many siblings.
One of his brothers who’d arrived-surprisingly-with another brother and even a sister.
“Sigeberht,” he greeted, eyebrows rising with his surprise. He glanced back up at the two siblings behind him, the two of them talking amongst themselves as they watched from a distance, then back to the young man who stopped just a few feet from them, smiling kindly if not somewhat tiredly. “I wasn’t expecting you to have come here all the way from Essex…” As his eyes strayed back up to the other two, he added a bit more softly, “I wasn’t really expecting anyone else to really come all the way out here, considering the risks. Considering what happened to Gawen and Cador…”
Sigeberht gave a small shrug and tilted his head slightly to eye the other, a particularly strong breeze whipping through tousled brunette waves that bordered auburn. “You know that if we didn’t come all the way out here,” he pointed out. “We would hardly be doing our job.”
“Our job is to be mediums and regulators,” Perceval pointed out softly. “Not...you know.” He gestured towards the army. “Soldiers.”
“Perhaps. But our job is to also protect our people no matter what the cost,” Sigeberht pointed out. “Otherwise they get invaded. Everything that makes up what they are, what we are-their mannerisms, their language, their values, their culture, everything will disappear. And we won’t be very long to follow…” Noticing the troubled and almost forlorn look Perceval was giving him, he then cleared his throat and tugged on his cloak a bit. “After all, that is what happened to our parents, right? To Ceridwen and Brennus?”
“‘Parents’...” Perceval repeated, unable to resist shaking his head slightly as he turned back to look out over the field again. Other than that though, he certainly didn’t seem to argue. “I mean…” He glanced back at Sigeberht over his shoulder. “Probably something like that, yeah.”
“Yeah,” Sigeberht affirmed, stepping up beside him. “Sussex and Kent-” He paused for a moment, clearing his throat again before adding, “ Aella- or excuse me, Aelle now- and Eadric , that is-seem to mostly think the same way.”
Perceval couldn’t help but sneak a look at Aelle in particular, lowering his voice further.
“She managed to convince her leader to allow her to fight?”
Sigeberht’s green eyes followed his gaze before remarking, “Woe be it to the entity-be it man, woman, or Bound-that attempts to get in her way and stop her. She is... very determined to stop Arthur in his tracks before he can become an immediate threat to her own personal borders.” He dared to make a tiny vague gesture in her direction, adding, “Besides, if you ask me? I think she did a rather good job disguising her appearance. Perhaps a bit too pretty to be taken seriously as a male soldier or even a man in general of course-but if that were the case, you wouldn’t be here either, would you?”
Perceval gave the other's shoulder a small, playful shove. “Shush,” he murmured, giving a small shake of his head and-for what felt like the first time in ages-allowing the tiniest ghost of a smile to spread across his face. The other grinned widely, reaching over to ruffle his hair as his victim attempted to grapple and keep the hand away while laughing. “Hey-stop it-cut it out-!”
“Surrender to the great land of Essex and perhaps we shall talk-”
“Oh, is that what this is all about? A surprise invasion?” Perceval chuckled, drawing a laugh from the other.
“It’s whatever you want it to be, brother,” Sigeberht teased. “At least for now. ”
Perceval rolled his eyes but stopped when he saw their two older siblings approach. Probably between sixteen and eighteen years of age-in appearance, at least-Eadric stood strong and tall, eyes hazel with a splash of green that almost matched their’s, but hair a bit more of a strawberry blond, looking out at the other end of the field like Perceval had been only moments ago. Though he was quiet, it was more of a distracted sort of quiet, a deep, pensive concern about what the next several hours would bring.
Aelle meanwhile watched the two younger boys with an expression that was wholly unimpressed, cinnamon freckles scattered across her pale face and green eyes piercing. Sandy blond hair that was chopped uneven at the edges-recently, from the looks of it-now reached almost shoulder-length and was toyed at by the breeze of the coming storm. “Is this all of us?” she asked, casting a glance to their own gathering armies. “Considering the overall state of things, the threat that this has become...I would’ve expected more of us to show up. Guin, for instance. Cador, perhaps?”
“Last I heard, Arthur had managed to push Cador into a corner,” Eadric explained. “And anyway, with Gawen dead-”
“It didn’t seem to right to push the matter,” Perceval replied softly, his smile disappearing into a light, guilty frown.
Eadric looked down at Perceval with a small frown of his own, then set a hand on his shoulder to give it a comforting and reassuring squeeze. How much of it was actually felt through the armor, of course, was debatable-but really, it was the thought that counted. “This isn’t your fault, Perceval. At the end of the day, it’s barely even Arthur’s. You know how susceptible we are to the whims of our leaders and our people. It doesn’t matter if you were once true-”
Perceval grimaced, squeezing his eyes shut in an attempt to will the reminder away. “Nevermind about that,” he interrupted. “It’s just- It’s Dumnonia. I should’ve reached out to Gawen and Cador. I should’ve lent them a hand, regardless of the relationship between Arthur and I.”
“We had no idea at the time; all of our eyes were directed towards Edwin up in Northumbria.” The taller man straightened back up with a small sigh. “Enemies are beginning to press in on all sides. Even from those we once thought we could trust. This is beginning to remind me of the Roman invasions all over again…”
“ Ha , you’re one to talk, Kent , considering how well you got along with the Romans and the intermingling of your people and theirs,” Sigeberht chuckled softly.
Eadric seemed unphased; in fact, he even cracked a tiny grin. “More so that I was waving them goodbye,” he countered.
“Right, right. I forgot, you were already leaving their stuff out on the lawn to make room for your pagan fellows-”
“What can I say? The Saxons may be pagans, but at least they’re not Picts.”
Aelle remained silent through it all, eyes fixed on the gathering of their troops. But this silence was broken when she finally cleared her throat, gesturing towards the amassed armies. “We’re nearing time-” Her statement was affirmed as the sound of instruments cut through the low pressure of the overcast day, reaching far and wide in a summons to gather. “That’s the signal. Our commanders are waiting.”
“Ruining a good party as always, Aella,” Sigeberht sighed, shaking his head as he began to trudge back to the crowd.
“More so just a better soldier,” Aelle pointed out.
“Somehow.”
The group meandered back over towards their respective gathered troops, Sigeberht taking a moment to pause and turn back to Perceval. “Hey. Perceval, hey. I know this is going to be rough: even if we win- and we will- it’s still going to feel like a loss... especially to you, all things considering.” He held out a hand. “After all this, we’ll deal with it together-with at least the ounce of solemnity required as everyone else rejoices. Pints on me, alright?”
Perceval blinked, staring at the hand for a moment in surprise, but then managed to crack a small, suddenly-weak smile. “You’re the last person I should be talking to about solemnity. Don’t make promises you can’t keep-”
“I’ll keep it, I swear! Even if it's for your brother or not, Gawen deserves proper mourning as well. We’ll get Eadric and Aella in on it...they’re much better at bringing a bit more seriousness to the mood, if nothing else.”
“Pints on you for them as well?” Perceval suggested, grin widening just a fraction more at the slight fall in the other’s expression. “...I’ll see if I can talk them into going easy on you.” He grasped the other’s hand in pact. “Alright. It’s a deal. I’ll see you when the battle is done.”
Sigeberht’s grin returned in full as he tightened the grip for a moment and nodded. “Yeah.” He released the other’s hand, walking backwards with a small wave. “When the battle is done. Best of luck.”
And with that, he turned, running into the crowd to meet up with a commander who was no doubt waning in patience.
Perceval drew in a deep breath and let it out slowly, trusting his own feet to guide him to his own leader, King Beornwulf, as his mind was racing too much to be fully trusted on its own.
It was going to rain today.