[CW/ Threatening language]
Ari's army reaches the White Hart fields of Avalon. Lancelot finally makes a bold confession.
"Please let me come with you," Squirrel begged on Ari's heels. Nearly tripping on her cloak, he followed her out of the castle and into the bailey where the royal convoy of warriors was waiting to depart. The whole town and camps of Southern soldiers surrounding it had been awake before the dawn that was now.
"No, Squirrel," Ari refused, however much it pained her in a way that she hadn't felt before to leave him behind. Perhaps for the last time...
She turned to him and clasped his shoulders, looking down in his round reddened eyes dulled by the grey sunrise. Heartstrings tugging tight. "If anything happened to you I could not live with myself," she said, and as soon as the words were spoken, the perpetual sting behind her eyes became a tear.
The boy worried his lip until it was bitten raw. "Well then promise you'll come back."
Through a tired smile, Ari sighed. Her best attempt to stay positive as she willed herself to not cry. The weight of the Sunborn Crown on her head, weaved with her braids to keep it in place, felt heavier now than before.
"Squirrel," her throat tightened, "you know I cannot."
"Promise," the boy insisted, jutting his chin in the air. His furrowed brow was far deeper than any child's should ever be.
Promises held too much finality for Ari to be able to keep them. She was heading off to war, not certain that she would return. Anything could happen in the next few days and she was not prepared for any of it. She couldn't promise Squirrel what he was asking. But she couldn't leave him with no hope, either.
Ari's lips tugged in a gentle smile, tucking his chin with her knuckle. "I don't die easily."
She watched him hold his resolve to stand tall, then the tremble of his lower lip. Before her arms could react, Squirrel pushed himself within them and wrapped his around her body. The tears coming fully now down his face.
Her insides twisted as her body was squeezed tight. Desperation clinging the boy's hands to her coat. She bundled Squirrel's growing frame in her embrace, too. Holding the child who'd burrowed his way into her heart.
Over the boy, Ari caught Lancelot watching them, a sorrow spreading across his face as he flicked his gaze between them and his horse.
If she never came to have a family of her own, she thought, at least she had known this one.
All too soon she found herself unable to stop her eyes from watering or her throat from drying up. Horses and their riders filled the bailey along with well wishers bidding them goodbye. Lord Hubert, too old now for battles and bloodshed, was sharing his last moments with his son. Hanna and Kaze secured packs of food rations to their horses saddles. Elyan clung on to his three children, his red eyes trying to retain his tears.
Down by her waist, Squirrel sniffled. Ari held onto him even tighter until she absolutely had to let him go. Even then, his arms didn't loosen from her.
"Squirrel—" She ran her hand through the boy's hair.
His cheeks were red when he prized them away from her body, the creases of her coat marking his skin. She used her thumb to wipe them away as he stared up at her, blinking.
The boy had lost so much already in his short life. Ari hated that she was going to be the cause of more grief, since nothing in war was certain. She could not promise that she would return, nor any body else.
Lancelot still peered at them, shifting on his feet as he occupied his hands with fastening his saddle bags. Goliath had bowed his head to lip at a pile of hay on the cobblestones.
Ari released a burdened breath. If her saying goodbye to the boy was hard, then there was only one conversation which could be harder.
She looked down again at Squirrel and swept the unruly blonde fringe from out of his eyes.
"I know that he hasn't always shown it," she said quietly, "but he cares about you more than he does for himself."
Squirrel followed her gaze behind him when she lifted it again. Sniffling, he nodded to her, and backed away. Ari had to cover her mouth to hide the quiver of her chin as the boy dragged his feet across the courtyard.
~
Lancelot felt Squirrel's presence before he was near. He hadn't heard the last words that Ari had said to him— with so many others saying farewells around them and the sounds of hooves on the cobblestones. But whatever it had been had prompted Squirrel to shuffle towards him.
One hand resting on his saddle, Lancelot twisted.
Squirrel stood a little distance away, toeing the sandy grout between cobblestones. He raised his tiny chin and worked the courage for what he wanted to say, but the words died on his tongue. His shoulders, too heavy for a child, deflated.
"Try not to die, okay?" Squirrel grumbled.
Lancelot hadn't expected the most heartfelt of goodbyes— that wasn't the way that they were with one another. But a part of him had hoped...
Before he could say anything, Squirrel pursed his lips in a thin line and turned on his heels. Leaving Lancelot with the sinking feeling that he had failed the child. If he'd been more— done more for him— then he would deserve the same embrace that Squirrel had thrown Ari within.
He wasn't the boy's father. Clearly the boy didn't want him to be, and that left his chest feeling so empty.
A heavy exhale pushed through his nose. As Squirrel retreated across the courtyard, Lancelot turned back to his horse, but then a little body of someone barrelled into his side.
"Oof," quietly escaped him.
Two short arms flung around his middle. Lancelot lifted his elbow up, letting him look down at the dirty blonde mess of hair. Squirrel's face was buried in the blue leather of his tunic and dampening the sound of his almost silent, airy hiccups.
Warmth flooded through where Lancelot's chest had felt empty. Too slow to react, he stooped down to his knees as he had done only a couple of times before— sword point jarring on the ground in its scabbard— and circled his arms around Squirrel.
He wasn't the boy's father. He knew he had no right to pretend that he was. But there was every chance that he could meet his gods in the coming days without having ever known the love of his own child— so Lancelot held on to the boy and he held on tight.
Family was more than just blood.
Squirrel wiggled and wrapped his arms around Lancelot's neck. Lancelot let an arm cross over the boy's shoulder as his other hand smoothed over his hair. He breathed in Squirrel's scent as though he was memorising it; like pine trees and the general outdoors, as well as the sweet pastries from the feast last night.
He blinked hard, intending to open his eyes again but finding no will to do so.
Squirrel weakly whispered by his ear, "Filium."
Lancelot's heart swelled into the fists which were squeezing it tight, his breaths and body ceasing. That single word flashed his eyes open to let the bailey go blurry around him.
Filium... it meant son.
He gently clasped Squirrel's shoulders and pulled back. Water lined in the red rims of the eyes staring back at him. What was the boy trying to say?
Squirrel tried for a smile which wobbled at the corners, and Lancelot knew. Filium. From this day he could call the boy his own— be the father that both of them had lost to wars gone by.
Lancelot nodded slowly— they needed no more words than that. Filium, that single one echoing in his mind and in his full heart. Filling his thoughts with one last thing which he wanted to do before he had to leave.
He reached for the amulet around his neck.
"No!" Squirrel grasped his hands to stop them, panic spiking in his voice. "You need it." Lancelot stopped lifting the string from beneath his coat collar.
Fae amulets were given to the loved ones of those who'd passed on— he didn't need to question Squirrel's refusal. Ban's amulet had never passed down to him. Lancelot would rest easier knowing that if the time came, then Squirrel would have his.
"And I will collect it when I return," he said softly.
Lancelot carefully nudged Squirrel's hands off of his own and lifted, feeling the drag of his amulet on his chest through the layers of clothing. The blue veins of the whittled leaf caught the pale yellow light of the ever changing dawn as he raised it in the air, then brought the string down around Squirrel's neck. It hung too low, was the first thing Lancelot noticed. Then how large it looked between the boy's fingers as Squirrel turned it over.
"You better," Squirrel argued, defences up, until he hiccuped and they crumbled again. "I already lost Papa— I can't..."
"Squirrel—" Lancelot pulled the boy against his chest once more. He didn't know what to say to make any of this easier. "You know that soldiers cannot make promises." Squirrel nodded against his shoulder. "But I will do everything that I can to find you again."
He heard nothing but quiet sniffles for a few moments, until Squirrel mumbled, "Okay." The simplicity sounding as though it took all of the young one's strength. It felt like his own was bleeding out from him.
Squirrel swiped his nose on his sleeve as he stood back by himself. He couldn't quite lift his gaze higher than the crossed leather of Lancelot's cloak and that put a sickly lump in Lancelot's throat. He wanted to tell him to hold is head up high, that things would be alright. But those assurances were yet more ways for him to disappoint Squirrel when he was proved wrong.
Lancelot stood up alongside his horse, putting a light hand on Squirrel's shoulder.
"I believe Tomas is going to show you how to make red berry pies," he said around the lump in his throat. Squirrel peeked up through his brow. "Save one for me?"
Squirrel nodded meekly. "The best one."
Lancelot smiled.
"'Atta boy." The hand he'd placed on Squirrel's shoulder could have been made of lead for how difficult it was to remove, patting encouragingly one last time. Lancelot fought against the strange thickness in his voice. "Off you go."
It was a moment of hesitance before Squirrel trundled off to where Tomas was waiting by the castle doors. Every short step that Squirrel took had Lancelot clinging on to the ropes which kept his heart up within his chest, willing it to not sink down.
Squirrel reached the doors and Lancelot met the elder Ash's eyes. Tomas acknowledged what he was silently asking with a slow nod, an unspoken promise that he would keep the boy safe. It was all Lancelot could do to not let his stinging tears fall as he turned his back and gathered Goliath to depart the bailey.
Battles were no strangers to him. He'd fought more times with blade, bow, and fists than he could count. Yet going to war had never felt so painful as this. He couldn't look back— he wouldn't. It was best for his self-preservation to just leave without one final glance.
Riders had already begun mounting their horses to ride out through the main cobbled street of the town, where the Queen's army of footsoldiers and more riders were waiting beyond the stone walls. Lord Hubert's rallying of the rebellion against Uther and the Red Paladins had produced over a thousand people willing to fight. With Ari's letters to the southern town's and cities, she'd gained their allegiance in return for peace between humans and Fey when the war was ceased. With those from her forest already a day's ride ahead of them to Avalon, she had near enough two thousand able bodies in her force.
Whether or not they would be joined by the Red Spear's fleet of raiders was yet to be seen.
Forcing his mind to what lay ahead, Lancelot mounted up. Swinging his leg over Goliath's rear with trained ease. He steered his horse around others to find his place nearer the front of the procession.
The collective clicks of hooves and eager whinnies echoes around the courtyard. Adrian on his brilliant white horse waited a few lengths ahead between the guarded open gates. Sir Henry was over to his right and a few other noblemen flanked Goliath's rear. People lined the edges of the main street outside of shops, taverns and homes, waiting to wave goodbye. The only one missing was—
Ari drew her horse up beside him. She looked every essence of a queen ready for battle, the golden crown upon her head glinting in the sun.
"Are you okay?" She asked on a whisper, and the lump in Lancelot's throat lodged even deeper. He knew she'd watched him with Squirrel just now.
"Yeah." He cleared his throat and gathered Goliath's reins, motioning his gaze towards the empty space beside the Old King. "Let's get going, your highness."
~~~
The convoy which left Lord Hubert's estates met those led by Gawain and Arthur from Ari's forest on the road towards Avalon. It took two arduous days of trekking to the east to make their final camp that second nightfall— where the White Hart Fields were divided by forests. To the north sat Lake Avalon, the east— boglands which were impassable on foot.
Depending on King Uther and the Red Paladin armies marching from the north, according to Ari's spy, her army kept contained on the south side of the stretch of woodland that she stood at the boundary of now. Watching for any movement out in the endless darkness of open land before her. Half a league away, or perhaps less, more forest blackened the horizon as a fog slowly drew in.
Clusters of watchers made camps just inside of the treeline, their horses tethered even further back where small fires were out of sight and crackled for warmth.
Compared to the comfort of sleeping in a feather bed only a few nights ago, this evening was frigid. The ground softened by rainfall in the earlier hours. Anticipation added to how Ari shivered every now and then when the breeze caught beneath her cloak. As if her body knew that her enemy was just beyond that distant row of sky-reaching pines.
"Perhaps you should sit by the fire for a while?" Hanna suggested from by her side with the quiet reverence that this watch station was keeping. She briefly glanced his way.
"I'm alright," she said. The fire was a hundred paces back and she wanted to stay here. "It's just the breeze catching."
With no light other than what shone from the moon to see, Ari heard the shifting of Hanna beside her. Then the weight of his fur cover came down upon her shoulders. Sighing, she passed him a grateful smile and accepted his offer, for now. She couldn't have her friends going cold to see her warm instead.
Glancing across at Lancelot, his head tipped back against the trunk of the tree he leant against, eyes closed as though he was asleep where he stood— he looked unaffected by the chill. It was something she'd noticed about him. That no matter what, his blood always ran warm.
She pictured the last night in which they had been out on the edge of a forest like this, granted far more alone than they currently were. What she wouldn't give to be feeling that same peace once more.
With a sharp inhale, he picked up his head seconds later. Springing to alertness. He'd been tuning his senses for all this time.
Lancelot's eyes immediately met hers and Ari's pulse spiked in her throat.
"Footfall," he said, "in the forest." His voice not as alarming as his start had been. One of their own was treading near.
All but Kaze in their little group turned to search back through the shadows— keeping her gaze firm upon the horizon.
A rustle of undergrowth, a hiss and hushed cursing, and a minute later Gawain emerged. He trudged through the damp and dark bushels and long grass, eventually reaching them where he stopped in front of Ari.
Her gaze went down to the small roll of parchment that he offered out.
"This arrived for you minutes ago," he said.
Ari had come to not anticipate good things from letters delivered after dusk.
Risking giving away their position, she kept her back turned to the pitch expanse of White Hart Fields behind her and lit the smallest flame from her unbound palm that she would need to read.
Since the night of the fire, she hadn't hidden this power, nor had she flaunted it. There hadn't been much time to answer questions from those who had seen her tame the ravishing blaze, but to her relief, her friends didn't look at her any differently. Kaze had been right— no one cared that she was a fire Fey. Her powers had killed the fires, not started them.
She hadn't ever thought that she could control a blaze that large... and yet, she had. Though it had taken half the life out of her to do so.
Her friends angled themselves towards her. The seal on the roll was still in tact and untampered with. Crumbs of black wax scattered in the low blades of thick grass at her feet as Ari unrolled the parchment.
Arthur crept near to the flame, eager.
Straining her eyes, Ari skimmed over haphazard cursive and unintentionally, she held her breath. Ignoring a few dots of what she hoped was only wine in the corner until she reached the final sweeps of black inked signature.
Her lungs emptied in one single exhale, and she breathed easily again. "This is what we needed."
"We have a second army?" Arthur's hopefulness spurred on her own. She looked to him, unable to contain her gratified, relieved smile.
"We have a kingdom's."
Arthur pressed his palms to his forehead and spun away, grinning. Gawain, Hanna, Lance and Henry all relaxed their shoulders. Even Kaze, who'd been listening to the hushing behind her, nodded her head, Ari knew that she was smiling.
_________
wc: 3k
Squirrel, I'm giving you a hug <3