Never Surrender Jun 29, 2011 7:15:33 GMT -5
Post by Arthur Pendragon on Jun 29, 2011 7:15:33 GMT -5
It was in the middle of the night and the young prince, sole heir to Camelot was inspecting himself in the mirror. He fixed a strand of hair that was out of place, trying to decide whether to sweep his front bangs to the side, or keep them straight in front. He titled his head to the side, as if inspecting himself in different angles. Somewhere in between. Fiddling with his hair once more, he was finally satisfied with the way it fell. He stood up straight, adjusting the dark blue coat he wore over his shirt. He had his belt around his waist, which had his sword attached to it. He would never leave anywhere without it . . . not even on a midnight date. And that was precisely where he was going right now. He had met the most incredible foreign noblewoman at court. A visiting one from Gwent and . . . well, she was damn gorgeous. Unfortunately, she was staying with a fellow friend in Camelot, at their estate. Thankfully, it was not far from the castle, which was why he knew he could get away with sneaking out there and then coming back before the sun came up. His intentions were entirely . . . honorable. For he would not take a young woman's virtue, not at this age. Not with all the complications it could cause. But that did not mean he didn't wish to spend time with her. Perhaps steal a kiss or two.
The thought made him anxious to see her. He had charmed her in court, and he knew that she too was eager for their little almost somewhat scandalous tryst at this late hour. They had been sure to confirm plans before she left. He told her he'd be at her estate at half past midnight . . . and that she should wait for him at the gardens. An easy place to sneak to, for Arthur knew the estate well. He knew his way around it and he knew he could easily get in without detecting the guards. Besides, if he was caught, he could always make up some sort of story. He was the prince of Camelot! How could they refuse his presence? Finally satisfied with his appearance, he fixed one of his boots before grabbing his riding gloves and grabbing the rope he had his servant bring him earlier today. It was tied to his bed post so that it would be sturdy enough to give him that stability. Pulling it a couple of times just to be sure that it was strong enough, he then made his way over to the window. He peered down, the height not fazing him in the slightest. Grabbing to one end of the rope, he tossed it down, tugging it once more just to be totally certain -- for quite literally, his life depended on it.
He then grabbed on to it, and hopped out the window, moving steadily and smoothly, using the grooves between the bricks for balance and a place for his foot to easily climb down the wall of the castle. This would be his way down and his way up. When he got to the bottom he hopped down, and looked up his window one last time before going off to the stables, where one of his horses was prepared and his very nervous manservant standing there with the reigns in his hands. Arthur grabbed the reigns and mounted his horse. "Don't breathe a word of this to anyone," he demanded, knowing his servant would comply. For he could easily make his life a living hell . . . more so than he already did anyway. He would just use him for extra target practice. With that final command -- or threat rather -- Arthur dug his heels on the horse's side and flicked the reigns. Without being detected, he rode off through the city gates, eagerly making his way to his destination.
He rode quickly, soon enough entering the woods and weaving through the trees. He was planning on taking a shortcut . . . perhaps one not so wise at this hour, but never the less, it was necessary. He did not want to keep his lady waiting after all. He noticed that the abundance of trees began to thicken, and the area become more hilly and uneven. He pulled his horse to a halt, dismounting so that he could guide his stead through the woods rather than ride him through. So far, it had been a smooth journey, but something did not feel right. Arthur kept looking in almost every direction . . . his instincts telling him that something was severely off. There was something unsettling about this, and it was causing him to raise his guard, keeping one hand on the hilt of his sword attached to his side, while the other ones firmly grasped the reigns of his horse, continuing to walk forward. This was not one of the times Arthur liked being proven right, for suddenly, out of no where, an ambush of men surrounded him from every direction.
There were those in front of him, behind him, to his sides . . . everywhere, creating a circle around him, all of them holding out their weapons and the menacing expression on their faces telling him that they were not going to be dissuaded from doing . . . whatever they planned to be doing. As a reflex, he had pulled out his own sword, holding it defensively out in front of him. But Arthur knew when he was out numbered. There were over a dozen men surrounding him . . . and he knew that fighting them would only result in his death. Bandits may not be skilled warriors, but Arthur was not stupid. He knew that more of them must be lurking nearby, and even if he managed to defeat every single one here . . . only more would come. Still, he did not lower his sword until he knew what it was they wanted. For if they planned to kill him anyway, he would die in combat, refusing to submit to being a coward by just allowing them to kill him without a fight.
Setting: Deep in the woods of Camelot
Time of Day: Very late at night
Timeline: When Arthur is about 16 years old
Tag: Lady Morgana LeFay
Notes: Credit for the thread title goes to Morgana LeFay