Third P.O.V
"So Jackson, what can you tell us about this game of chess?" Arthur enquires.
"Well, I can promise you it's not pretty."
Gwaine grumbles, "Thanks for the help. We kind of figured."
"Gwaine", Arthur hisses over his shoulder.
Jackson chuckles. "Oh, I can see you're the cheerful one."
"You going to help us or not?" Gwaine snaps in frustration.
"Alright then, Sir Loggerhead", Jackson retaliates. His signature smirk grows on his face with the insult. "Don't get your girl's blouse in a twist."
"Oh, you little-" Gwaine takes a step forward to attack Jackson. He doesn't get far before Elyan and Percival are pushing him away from the bars.
Jackson lets out a gruntle chuckle. "Save that energy for the tournament, mate."
"Just you wait. You'll be the first I come for", Gwaine snarls.
Percival holds him back. "Gwaine, calm down."
"He's just trying to get under your skin", Elyan assures.
Arthur leans toward the bars, causing Jackson to flinch away. "You think this is funny, do you? You think a fight to the death is a joke?"
Jackson's smirk falls from his face, more in annoyance than revelation. "You think I want to be here?" he snarls back. "My whole life, prats like you have talked down to me. Pushed me around like a piece of shit. So excuse me if I'm kind of reluctant to tell you all the details about the game you may kill me in."
"We're not trying to offend you", Leon assures, trying to deescalate the situation. "We're just trying to figure out what's going on here."
"Yeah, well, join the line" Jackson rolls his eyes. "Listen. I don't care who you are. And I sure as hell don't care for no tournament. All I know is that anyone who participates in the Red Tournament dies.
"I know that this is cruel entertainment for murderers and psychopaths. It's every man for himself. So...excuse my defensiveness, but blokes like you always turn on scum like me. So why should I tell you anything?"
"You're scared. Aren't you?" Arthur asks, eyes narrowing on the man. Jackson looks tough, the kind to never back down from a fight. Yet here he sits, seeming frustrated and confused as they are.
"Aren't you?" Jackson rebuttals. None of the knights' answer. A tenseness takes the air. "Well, you should be."
"Oi! Dinner's ready!" a filthy grumbling voice calls from the front of Jackson's cell.
The voice brings Jackson to look once more at the knights with a glare before pulling himself to a stand. He retreats to retrieve his dinner, disappearing.
"Supper boys!" another more shrill voice calls, appearing at the cell door to the Knight's cell. All five knights stand, keeping their distance as the man pushes five tiny bowls through a small door. "Enjoy", he chuckles, wiping snot from his nose.
Leon is the first to walk forward, picking up on the bowls to check the contents inside. The others follow behind reluctantly as Leon sniffs the soup. If that's what you can call it. His face scrunches with disgust. It's thick and brown, reminiscent of streaky meat, and great clumps of what Leon prays is potato.
Percival is the first to take a sip, squinting in disgust. His face falls in confusion, eyebrow raised. "That's... not that bad."
That's all it takes for Gwaine to stuff his face, realising how hungry he is with the presence of food. The others start to eat their supper as they sit around the cell in silence. They take a moment to enjoy the feeling of filling their stomachs after a long and agonising day.
"Do you suppose Edythe and Merlin are okay?" Elyan whispers, breaking the silence of the cell.
"Edythe can look after herself. And I'm sure she's more than capable of looking after Merlin too," Arthur assures. He has grown more enthusiastic than he's been the entire time. I have to be, Arthur thinks to himself.
Arthur knows to get out of here, they need Edythe's help, but they also need their King to be strong and show resilience. With strength and determination, they will get through this together.
"We're going to get through this," Leon assures, mirroring Arthur's thoughts. Although Leon does not sound completely convincing, he tries. "I trust Edythe knows what she's doing. And I trust that if we work together, we can survive this."
"Not to be the downer here-" Gwaine starts ", but how are we going to survive this if we don't even know what to expect?"
"Gwaine has a point", Elyan agrees. "We can't fight a battle against an enemy we don't even know."
"Edythe said this is a test of strength, both physically and mentally", Percival recalls. "And that this man, Ronon, will try to put us all against each other."
Leon nods. "Meaning combat."
"And magic", Arthur snickers.
"Well, they have to take us somewhere, right Edythe said something about an arena. Perhaps we could find a way to escape?"
"And you don't think anyone ever tried that, Leon?" Gwaine retorts.
"Sorry that I'm trying to think of something useful, Gwaine."
"I'm just saying!"
"Hey, guys!" Arthur barks, raising a frustrated hand. "Stop it. We can't start bickering amongst ourselves. That's what will drive a wedge between us. We need to stick together, or else all hope of getting out of here is lost."
Silence falls over the men, discussion over. Without speaking, they come to a silent decision to wait and see what the following hours bring them. There is no use standing around, dreading what's to come.
Arthur's mind remains in the levels above. It's with Edythe, wondering what she's doing to play their captures in her favour. It brings bile to his throating thinking about her alone up there with them. He knows better than to doubt her, but he can't help but worry.
Arthur lost her once. He doesn't plan on doing it again.
"Oi! You! State your purpose," a high pitched voice demands. His pounding steps echo in the hall as he runs close by.
"I'm here under the permission of the Wolf", a stern feminine voice replies.
The knights' eyes flicker amongst each other. They all spring to their feet in recognition of Edythe's voice. Each knight makes their way to the barred door, Arthur at the front. Arthur can only faintly make out a figure in a cloak turned toward one of the guards.
Edythe's P.O.V
"Do you have a pass?" the foul guard asks. His beady eyes glare up at me from behind, boils and scars.
"Didn't realise I needed one", I reply, narrowing my eyes down at the small man.
"Obviously. Why would I ask for one if you didn't?"
"Oh, my apologies. I just presumed as Ronon's appointed guest and close friend that I had access to the prisoners. Or perhaps I miss-heard Ronon that I had free reign?" I ponder, placing a hand to my chin. "But I'm sure he had said, 'Edythe, do as you wish'. But I've been wrong before. We should go ask him!"
"O-Oh. You're Edythe..." the man stumbles, his face paling.
"Yes! A pleasure to meet you," I greet, a hint of disgust passing over my face as I give him a once over. "Now. Let's go see Ronon about-"
"Oh, there's no need", the guard stutters, retreating. "I-I am sorry for the confusion. Please, do whatever it was you came to do. And please don't mention my forgetfulness to Ronon?" he begs, gesturing for me to continue, his gaze now on the floor as if to look at me would bring great dishonour.
"Consider it forgotten", I assure smugly. I turn on my heel to proceed with an eye roll.
I continue down the cavern of cells, peering into each cell as I go, looking for any familiar face. I pass all kinds of ages and builds, many more young and skinny men in the cells this year than usual. The slave traders must be getting desperate to sell to Ronon these days.
There are quite a few strong men and no doubt warriors. As I walk past one of the cells, I gain a wink from the man leaning against the bars. I roll my eyes and continue.
"Edythe!" comes a calm voice from inside the next cell. I immediately notice Arthur and then Elyan, the rest of the knights huddled behind the two men.
"I am so sorry. I've been working so hard to gain even enough trust to wander. I would have come sooner-"
"What in god's name were you thinking, Edythe?" Arthur scolds, completely ignoring my statement.
"I was thinking about getting us all out of here alive", I hiss. "Sorry if that seems irrational."
Arthur opens his mouth to protest but is cut off by Elyan. "Have you spoken to Ronon?"
"I have. But he seems very reluctant to the idea of letting anyone leave," I grumble, looking over my shoulder. "He's too excited by the idea of having real knights in his tournament."
"So there's no way even to get Arthur out?" Leon whispers.
I shake my head.
"And I wouldn't leave you all if there was", Arthur sneers, glaring at Leon. "I think it's safe to say we're in a bind. And we have to deal with what we've got."
"I'm so sorry", I fret, "to all of you. I was being selfish, not wanting my friends to die. Not wanting my brother to die," I rant, "but believe me. This is the lesser of evils you could face."
"And we believe you, Edythe", Leon assures, offering a soft smile.
Arthur shakes his head. "Don't be sorry, Edythe. We have accepted that you know this place better than us. You know these people better than us. Whatever you say, we'll listen."
I smile softly, my heart swelling with the relief to know they still trust me. "That's good."
"How's Merlin?" Arthur notes the absence of his servant.
"Oh right, he's fine", I exclaim. "I've made him stay confined to my chambers. It's unsafe for him to wander the halls alone. And at the moment, I'm trying to gain some respect around here, enough so that no one can steal my supposed 'servant' from under my nose."
Gwaine's jaw drops. "Someone would try that?"
"Definitely", I murmur. "Thus my reluctance to let him leave my room."
"How are you, Edythe?" Leon asks softly. Ever the thoughtful man he is. It brings another flutter to my chest.
"I'm fine, I guess", I admit, returning the knight a tired smile. "Apart from having Ronon breathing down my neck trying to convince me to take a seat in the family once more, I'm dandy."
"He's trying to get you to join them again?" Percival questions, "why?"
"He thinks I quote 'second in command material'."
"How have you gotten out of that one?" Gwaine asks wearily, all the knights having the same concerned face in thoughts of my answer.
"It's okay, I didn't say yes...but I made another deal", I groan in shame. "That's two favours I owe Ronon now."
"Edythe-" Arthur scolds.
"Don't Edythe me", I snap, pointing my finger in his face. "And don't say that I shouldn't be putting myself in danger for you guys because if you do, I will come in that cell and kick your arse Arthur Pendragon! I am going to do whatever it takes to get you out of here."
My rant continues, breath leaving me as all my thoughts spill from my lips. "It was my fault, I let Tyrant go, and now he's dead because of me, and now you are all in grave danger because of me, even Merlin. So please don't scold me for helping. If you're going to scold me for anything, scold me for being the worst sister in the world and for being the worst at protecting my family and-"
"Edythe-"
"I'm not finished-"
"EDYTHE!" Arthur shrieks, keeping an eye out for guards. "Stop. Stop that right now. I won't hear another word."
I didn't realise tears were building up, having held them in for so long. I feel the grief of losing Tyrant, the anticipated pain I will have if any of the knights get hurt. The weight of helplessness to get them out burns at my soul. There's also self-loathing for making Merlin abandon his protection of Arthur.
Arthur continues, taking my hand in his through the bars. "We forgive you. But right now, please help us with the tournament. We can't do anything about our situation. The least we can do is develop a plan to deal with what we've got."
"You're right", I sniffle. "You're right. We have no time for me to be dramatic. Okay, the tournament-"
"Edythe?"
My attention draws to my right, a figure appearing behind the bars of the second cell. His dark hair hangs thick over his eyes, his wide chocolate eyes stuck in a mixture of shock and relief. At first, I don't think twice about him, having believed never to have seen this man before. But as my eyes turn to look at the knights again, the change of light catches his features perfectly. My eyes turn back to the cell in horror.
He's taller now, fitter too. I almost didn't recognise him, having completely changed from the young skinny boy I had known. Somehow in age, he had completely changed, his skin now tan in place of what was once pale as snow.
"'Ello Edythe", he greets, a soft smile on his lips as he leans against the bars.
"Jackson..." I gasp in disbelief.
"You look well", Jackson compliments, seeming breathless.
With his statement, the blood in my veins begins to boil. Before me stands my childhood best friend. The best friend I had believed to have been dead. They told me he was a psychopath with no need for my sympathies. Jackson's death had brought me to leave the druids. I thought everything I knew was a lie and that I couldn't stand to be in that life anymore.
He shouldn't be here.
"Look well?" I sneer, eyes narrowing in disgust. "You're looking well for a dead man."
Jackson holds up his hands in a calming gesture. "I can explain-"
"Please!" I growl at him.
"Please, don't be angry-"
"Don't be angry!" I bark, completely forgetting my surroundings. "Oh, how am I supposed to react? Pleased? Relieved?"
"I'm sorry, you're right", Jackson defends "you have every right to be angry."
"I thought you were dead! I thought you betrayed us all."
"The dead part isn't true", Jackson agrees, regret plastered across his face. "But I did do some things I regret...but that's all in the past. I promise I'm different now."
"Wait, you know this git?" Gwaine demands, head peering from behind Leon.
"Yes", Jackson answers, my voice unable to with the sheer anger and resentment.
I sniffle, having completely forgotten the knights were next to us. I had forgotten where I was. I glance over my shoulder to see some eyes looking in our direction. Luckily, most guards are too occupied by their banter and card games.
"Why?" I demand, feeling tears pierce my eyes. All the emotions I have felt mingle with pain that I haven't felt for a very long time. I had mourned Jackson's death, and it hurt more than any pain I've ever endured. Not just because I had lost a friend, but because I felt like I didn't even know him or if he ever cared for me. "Why did you do what you did?"
"For power. For respect," Jackson admits, disgusted with his own words. "I don't know. I was young and naive. Easily swayed by others opinions and beliefs."
"So you were exiled?"
"Yes", Jackson whispers, looking down at his feet in shame. "And stripped...."
Nausea hits the back of my throat. "Oh...."
"Stripped? What does that mean?" Arthur asks, confused.
"Stripped of his magic", I gush.
To be stripped of your magic is the most degrading and humiliating process. It makes you known as a traitor, or worse, a coward. It robs you of your identity and leaves nothing in its place. I have always thought it the worst punishment, worse than death. In my mind, I had always seen Jackson's punishment by death. It never occurred to me it could be stripping of magic—sympathy bubbles in my chest.
"Someone can do that?" Leon shudders.
"Yes", Jackson continues, eyes distant in thought. "Not a pleasant feeling."
I run my head across my pounding forehead."Only very skilled elders can do it. Of course, there are other ways of taking away magic, though it takes a lot of power. It's rarely a punishment unless..."
"Unless they want to set an example," Jackson finishes.
"But Edythe never knew," Leon acknowledges.
"Probably to keep her and the other youngins from doing anything."
"Still doesn't change the fact you never contacted me", I grunt.
"I was ashamed", Jackson admits. "I didn't want you to think differently of me. I didn't want you to be associated with me, the shame that would bring. Even when I heard you had left the druids, I didn't feel like it was right...."
I gasp, mouth agape. "You knew I left the druids? You knew. And that didn't state enough that I didn't care about what others thought?"
"I figured you had changed. I figured you were better off for it."
"Oh wow."
"Please, believe me, Edythe."
"Wait, Jackson", Leon ponders, his voice distant, "he's the boy you spoke of, the boy who was your best friend. The boy who influenced your decision to stop using your magic."
"Yes", I whisper, giving Leon a weak smile, surprised that he could remember.
"You don't do magic anymore?" Jackson mutters, "b-because of me?"
"That is correct."
"Oh, Edythe-"
"Don't", I snap ", just don't."
"Please forgive me", he pleads, brown eyes glossy.
"No", I snarl. "I'll never forgive you for what you've done."
"Edythe-"
"I don't care how you're alive. You were dead to me a very long time ago. Jackson died. And I have no idea who you are."
The spark of hope in Jackson's eyes fades. It hurts. I watch the pain, the self-loathing as he looks back at me. More than anything, my words hurt me. I can't even believe that Jackson is alive, never mind here in the tournament. But I also can't bring myself to forgive him. I can't look at him and not think about all the resentment I have had for him my entire life. I can't bear to remember all the times I wondered if it was me. If I was good enough.
I have to worry about my family now. Not the one from my past. I have to get the knights out of here. I can't concern myself about another person who has been dead to me for years. I already made one mistake, trusting someone from my past. By doing that, I got my family into this. Never again.