All The Pain Is Going To Fade Away

[Arthur Pendragon]

It was rare for Arthur to have a few moments to himself. In some cases, he did not want them . . . in others, he needed them. Right now, he was grateful to get out of the city for some time. Usually when he required moments of peace, he would seek out Guinevère. For she was the only one who would give him that solace that he found himself craving fairly often, though he'd not been able to find her at the time. With all the darkness that had filled the kingdom, she was the light in his life. He was unsure how he would have gotten through all this had she not been in his life, especially the way she was now. They were not public, but they were fully committed to one another. And now instead of questioning a future together, it was simply the question of when it would happen, rather than if. With his father's worsening health, he knew it was only a matter of time. He was obviously not looking forward to the king's death. In fact, he was fearing it. But knew it was fast approaching. It would happen in a matter of a year or so. He hated seeing his father in such a condition, but considering what had happened . . . it was to be expected.

It had only been a few weeks since Morgana's tyrannical rule over the kingdom, and since him and the knights restored it to its rightful heir. But there was now a shift in who that heir would be. His father was unfit to rule; his heart was broken and his soul practically gone. For that reason, Arthur had assumed control of all the king duties, though he still called himself Prince. For that was his rightful title. And he would not assume another until it was properly time. Regardless, Arthur was feeling the intense pressures of being king. Of everyone looking to him for aid and support. That was precisely why he was out here now, on a hunt by himself. He was clad in his hunting attire: a brown leather vest, blue shirt, boots, and a sword attached to his waist, for he seldom went anywhere without it. Especially with Morgana and Morgause still lurking about out there. Arthur wondered if she would re-emerge from whatever depths she was hiding in . . . and prayed that she did not. For the sake of the kingdom. Though deep down, he knew this was an irrational desire. She was not finished with her vengeance; a vengeance that he would never understand.

Due to the heavily wooded paths he was traveling on, he had been forced to dismount his horse a while back. Having tied it up to a nearby tree. He had moved forward on foot, just enjoying the walk that was so far peaceful. The sun was shining and it was only mid afternoon, so he had a few hours before it grew dark. A few more hours to escape all the pressures and duties expected of him as acting king. This would be his only time to breathe; to gather his thoughts, and collect his emotions. His father was not the only one who was painfully hurting by Morgana's actions. But Arthur knew that allowing them to consume him would do no good. His father had lost a daughter, and almost lost a son. He hated seeing him this way; hated seeing him so broken. But the kingdom needed a ruler, and Arthur would not allow more harm to come to Camelot. So much had happened already . . . the people have already suffered far too much. And the wounds from Morgana's mark had not yet fully healed, for the people still mourned for the death of their loved ones, and wondered what the fate of the kingdom would be under Arthur's acting role as king.

_{Setting: Starts in the woods of Camelot
Time of Day: Mid- Afternoon
Timeline: During the Season 3 one year gap
Tag: Celta Meiru
Note: I left it a bit ambiguous with Arthur just walking along, so that Celta can bump into him!}

[Celta Meiru]

It was supposed to be a peaceful ride through the forest. Celta did this every single day, whether it was morning or night, and usually nothing unusual or bad happened. She wore her brown riding dress with her long black boots and carried little with them since she planned on returning home before nightfall. Riding through the Dark Forest had been a smooth one until Eolas heard noises that started to spook her.

"What is it, girl? It's all right...it's probably just some birds..." she crooned softly, stroking the grey neck of her mare. The horse sniffed at the air and reared up, kicking out at the air and startling Celta. Her ice blue eyes darted around, but she saw nothing out of the ordinary.

As if on cue, another sound erupted from the trees nearby, and she started with another look around. Eolas made a slight fuss, and Celta jumped off her back and let the horse see Celta's face in order to calm her down, her hands smoothing along her face and neck as she murmured soothingly to the mare. She tied her to a tree and slowly followed the sounds, getting down on her hands and knees to crawl silently over to a group of bushes. Loud, angry male voices could be heard on the other side, and she heard weapons clanging and being sharpened.

She prayed it wasn't the thieves of the towns looking to rob someone, for if it was, she was in serious trouble. When she had seen them a few days before, there was about seven of them in a group, and while she could take on one or two, maybe three...seven? It was too much, especially since all she brought to defend herself was a bow with some arrows. And with that, Celta sucked in a deep breath and her eyes turned back to a sight that made her stomach drop. Seven men were standing or sitting around a campsite. Damn it...thieves...she hated when she was right. They were arguing about something in particular, and she had to strain her ears to listen.

"I'm not doing this unless we are getting paid a pretty penny," One of the older ones grunted out as he counted a pouch of gold with a sneer on his dark face. His remark was met by an agreed complaining moan around the circle. Celta's brow furrowed as she kept listening, wondering how much more selfish mankind can be with money.

"We aren't just doing this for the money, you idiot," Another man pushed off the tree he was leaning against and looked away from the dagger he had been sharpening, glaring around the group. Celta could tell he was the leader of the group, and her eyes narrowed. He had shaggy hair and a crisscross set of scars across his cheek. Without hesitation, he had the man who had spoken pinned on the ground, the dagger against his throat.

"King Uther is already weakened to a point where any attack on his kingdom would be the end of him. When we kill his son...when we kill Prince Arthur...can you imagine how easy it will be to overthrow his kingdom? And all of those people will be in the palm of my hand." Celta's mouth dropped open, and she put a hand over her mouth to stifle a gasp. Her eyes darted around at each disgusting face as they smirked and nodded, weapons and money in their hands as they all laughed about the doomed fate of her city's prince.

"Oh,God...No. They can't kill Arthur. He has to know." She mentally stated as she waited for them to say something else. They were talking specifics, but she couldn't listen any longer. She backed out of the bushes and turned away, taking off as fast as her legs could carry her. She made her way back to Eolas, or at least, where Eolas had been tied. With an irritated groan, she realized that her horse had once again untangled herself and ran off. Of course, she'd choose this dire moment to leave Celta stranded.

The young woman glanced around quickly and began to run again, knowing her way out of the forest and back to Camelot. However, she didn't see the other person walking there until she had run into him or her and looked up to see who it was. A familiar blonde haired man with a kind face greeted her, and she gasped.

"Arthur! Sire!" she immediately started to speak. "You must listen to me. There are men, in the forest. We must get you out of here...they wish to..." She had been running so fast, she had to stop speaking and leaned over to take deep breaths, her heart racing in both her adrenaline rush and the fear for her prince.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur had stopped walking when he heard a rustling around him. Someone was nearby and judging from the hurried sound of their footprints . . . they were fast approaching. Arthur pulled out his sword in preparation for the potential threat. With Morgana still out there somewhere, there had been more frequent patrols and more overall caution. Arthur was not about to lower his guard. He took slow, careful steps, focusing on the general direction of whoever was approaching. Not long after, a figure came into sight; one that he instantly recognized. He lowered his sword, his face going from intensity to concern. It was Lady Celta Meiru. He did not know her too well personally, but as she was a noblewoman of Camelot, he knew of her. He had met her casually only a couple of times before. But it was enough for him to immediately recognize her. He put his sword back in its sheath, waiting for her to stop running but she seemed incredibly distracted . . . as if she was running from something.

She ended up bumping into him, and Arthur held his hands out to put on either side of her shoulders, to stop her and attempt to calm her down. She seemed so frantic. And Arthur was determined to discover the reason for her apparent panic. Before he said anything though, she hurriedly spoke, which only confused him further. They had to get him out of here? What about her? What had she heard? What was she running from? Though Arthur's mind raced with questions, he remained calm, knowing that when someone was in a state of panic, it was imperative for the other person to stay composed. Which was precisely what he was doing. "Lady Celta," he said in a deep, but calming voice. He kept his hands on her upper arms and slightly lowered himself so that they were more on the same eye level. "Take a deep breath," he told her, still attempting to calm her down so continued to speak in a soothing, strong voice. "Now tell me, what happened?"

Her primary concern was her safety, rather than his own. If she was in danger, if someone was after her . . . then he would put a stop to it. He waited for her to answer, but it seemed that the question was revealed for itself. For a group of men appeared through the trees . . . a very large group of men. Arthur looked at them, instinctively taking a step forward, in front of Celta to shield her from any potential attack from them. Additionally, he pulled out his sword, holding it out as a sign that he was ready to defend both her and himself. He kept her very close behind him, for the closer she was the more he could ensure she was safe. He could not send her off running on her own, for whatever these men wanted . . . they outnumbered Arthur. And with what few men he could fight at a time, undoubtedly the others would chase after her. So right now, his best bet was to somehow negotiate with them and find out what they wanted with her. Or him apparently. "What is it that you want?" He asked in a strongly authoritative voice.

It was a natural tone that came out when he questioned men such as these. Bandits, petty thieves; or maybe something far worse. Arthur hated to think how they posed as a threat to Celta. A beautiful woman out in the woods alone, and a group of men surrounding her . . . well, there were indeed men out there who's thoughts were of the most perverse nature. And Arthur despised such men. He hated to think that such people dwelt in Camelot, wanting to rid the kingdom of such vile men; ones who's thoughts were of such crude nature. It only made the need to protect her even greater. Not because she was a noblewoman, for ranks were not a factor that Arthur considered when determining to protect someone or not. All those in Camelot were under his protection, whether they were a noble, peasant or anyone in between. So for now, he stayed firm in place, standing in front of Lady Celta, his eyes focused on the men in front of him as he awaited their answer.

[Celta Meiru]

Celta could barely speak to the prince as she bent over to catch a breath from her running. He looked immediately concerned to see her, the sword he had been holding lowering to where she was safe. She felt his hands on her shoulders to stop her and calm her anxiousness. She slightly relaxed, since she didn't have to run all the way to Camelot to find him, where it could possibly be too late. However, she was still worried because they were still in the forest near the camp of those vile murderers.

She closed her eyes as she heard Arthur's soothing voice tell her to breathe and tell him what happened. His face came down to her level, and she found herself making eye contact and shaking her head against horrible thoughts of what those men wanted to do to him. And Celta could not let that happen, no matter what the outcome was for her. The future king of Camelot could not die by the hands of these monsters, and there had to be something she could do.

"My lord, there are men who wish to kill..." Her words were cut short as she heard noises. Her head snapped up while her eyes pinpointed the source of the sounds nearby. The same group of men showed themselves, and her eyes narrowed dangerously, although she was terrified inside for both the prince and herself. She watched him step in front of her and shook her head to try to argue that action. How ironic that the man they wished to kill was trying to protect Celta, when it should really be the other way around. She instinctively grabbed Arthur's arm and pulled him back a little to whisper in his ear.

"They are going to kill you if they know who you are," she told him so none of them could hear. She turned her attention back towards the men as they listened to Arthur's authoritative question as to what they wanted with Celta.

"The woman was no concern to us until she spied on us," The leader spoke, and Celta closed her eyes against the same voice that threatened Arthur's very existence before. "You think we didn't see you leaving your hiding place?" He sneered at her, and she almost went around Arthur to throttle the man, yet she held herself back. This was not the time to do anything stupid or foolish to endanger Arthur's life. The man's sneer turned into a cruel smile.

"Although, she looks like a noble. No peasant wears a dress that elaborate...and she looks too clean. I'm sure my boys can make quite an amount of money on her. She does seem like the feisty type, but they'll tame her pretty quick." Celta's eyes blazed with her anger, and she shook behind Arthur, her hands curling into fists. She knew they were just saying things to make them angry, so she held her tongue and closed her eyes before she heard the crackle of leaves being crushed behind them. Turning her head, she saw a man behind Arthur and her, a large stick in his hand.

"Look out! she shouted as she pushed Arthur to the side and narrowly missed being hit by the man swinging the stick at them. And as she scrambled to stand up, the other men ran towards them, weapons in their hands, and she cursed inwardly with a panicked glance at her prince. How were they going to get out of this one?

[Arthur Pendragon]

Just when she had tried to reveal her reason for being so frazzles, her words were cut off mid sentence when the men arrived. He kept her close, but his gaze was fixated on the men, knowing the risks of turning your eyes away from your enemy. Such an action could cost one their life in battle. And this was no exception. He felt her grasp his arm and whisper something to him that raised his confusion. "They are going to kill you if they know who you are." She did not need to be more specific than that, for Arthur knew exactly what she was talking about. This was an assassination attempt; they meant to kill the prince and future king of Camelot. Who were they? Who'd sent them? Was Odin getting desperate and thus, he sent a group of men to kill him, rather than just one assassin? Since that plan had failed miserably years ago when he had tried. Or was it yet another enemy of Camelot's? Arthur knew he could not ask. For revealing himself now would only put both of them at more risk and in more danger than they already were. So on the surface, he did not react to her words. He remained completely composed, though inwardly, his mind was racing with questions.

Ones that he was immediately distracted from when one of the men spoke. Arthur did not approve of the way they were leering at Celta. And the way they spoke about her. He could feel a flare of anger within him, though still maintained himself. Such men who caused this disrespect to women were the most revolting of creatures. Arthur despised them. He was raised to respect and protect women, and to know that such vile men existed out there in the world . . . was nauseating. His eyes slightly narrowed at the man, clear disapproval on Arthur's face. Disapproval, and determination to keep her safe and free from the clutches of these men. "You will do nothing of the sort," he said in the same strong voice, yet this time with more sternness and finality. They would not try to 'tame' her. Arthur did not even want to think of what that would entail. And neither of them were going to find out. "You will turn around, and return from where you came." Without Celta. Though it seemed that Arthur was the target as well. Only, they did not know it. As Arthur had been so fixated on the man who spoke such vile words, he had not noticed the approaching man. Not until Celta pushed him out of the way, causing him to stagger. And thus, it began.

The moment Arthur almost lost his balance, was the second the others reacted to his disadvantageous position. Arthur held up his sword once more, not allowing himself to lose his balance and quickly regained footing. Celta had fallen to her feet in attempt to get him away, and he quickly went towards her, his eyes only able to briefly scan her body for any injuries. She was conscious, and there did not seem to be any wound on her. The stick had thankfully missed her. As a man charged towards them, Arthur slashed his sword against him, the first blow blocked, but the second with more success as Arthur's blade ran through the man. These men had only the advantage of numbers, for they had no skill in the way they fought. It was clear they held no formal training . . . that they only swung to attempt to hit something, rather than have strategy. Their footwork was sloppy and their weaknesses were not hard to quickly detect. They would have been far more formidable, had there not been so many of them. While he fell to the ground in a lifeless state, Arthur -- without averting his gaze from the others for too long -- grabbed Celta by the arm and pulled her up, and close to him.

They could not just make a run for it . . . they were surrounded. And as Arthur previously silently acknowledged, they were massively outnumbered. Had he been by himself, it would have been different. But as Celta was with him . . . she was his primary concern. Her safety was what was most important right now. As another man charged towards them, Arthur defended the blow, but not before Celta was grabbed by one of the men. Arthur turned to look at her for a brief moment, and froze when he saw what had happened. One of the men held a blade to her throat, their arm around her neck with the edge of the weapon ready to slice should they be commanded to do so. Arthur did not move. He felt his heart beat slightly quicken with fear, though this was not apparent on his expression. What was apparent was concern for her. No one had to say anything, for Arthur knew what to do next. He dropped his sword to the ground and held his hands out. They were not out skilled, but they were outnumbered. And he would not risk Celta's life just because he was reckless enough to try and see his odds.

[[ I god modded Celta a bit!! Let me know if you'd like me to edit! I don't mind at all!! ]]

[Celta Meiru]

Celta kept her head down without giving away who the prince truly was and listened to all of the men speak. Including him. He was basically ordering them to leave the two of them alone and go back to their business. Oh, how ironic. Their business was planning on murdering him, and they didn't even know he was right in front of their faces. If this was any other situation, she'd be laughing about it. However, this was a very serious situation, and her face was instead grim and irritated. These men were a pain in her rear end already, and she hadn't done anything to tick them off.

Well, except for overhearing their plot to assassinate the prince and take over Camelot...there was definitely that. And suddenly she was pushing Arthur out of the way of a stick aimed for a good blow to knock him out, or worse. The air flew from her lungs as she hit the ground hard, the wind knocked out of her but otherwise she was all right. SHe could hear and see Arthur beginning to fight the men out of the corner of her eye. He was doing an excellent job of parrying blows and returning them fiercely, killing one man.

By the time her breath had returned to her chest, Arthur had pulled her back up to keep her safe behind him. She watched him rush to defend another blow, and a hand grabbed her arm painfully and yanked her to an unyielding body. She was about to kick and head butt whoever was holding her, but cold metal was pressed against her throat before she could. Her ice blue eyes widened as she froze, and they immediately darted to Arthur. She was worried for both of them now, as she watched him finally see what was happening to her and freeze up. Celta could not move an inch or the blade would make a fatal cut. Whoever had her in his grasp knew how to kill, that was for sure.

"No!" she placed one solid shout as Arthur dropped his weapon and surrendered, her concern for his life bigger than her own. The leader holding her smirked and told the men to restrain Arthur while he dragged Celta over a little and kept the weapon firm against her skin. Celta cast a hopeless glance at Arthur, thinking of plans to escape but finding no solution that could possibly work at the moment.

"Thank you. Now, my lady...it's time to go to sleep for awhile," he said softly and dangerously.

"Time for you to go to hell," Celta shot back angrily before a rag was forced over her mouth, and she slowly faded into unconsciousness. With a nod, he had the men walking towards Arthur to give him the same fate as well as he picked Celta up in his arms and carried her back to the campsite to put her on a horse.

[Arthur Pendragon]

This was not good. Not good at all. He heard her yell for him not to drop his sword, but he could not take such a risk. Not with her here. And certainly not because of him. For whatever harm came to her . . . it would be his fault. For these men wanted hi dead, and she had been trying to warn him. He would not forgive himself if she suffered for trying to help him and essentially, saving his life. He also knew that telling them the truth about him would not help matters. He would not be able to exchange his life for hers. For they would still not release her, on the account of being a witness to . . . whatever crime they planned to commit. No. They would keep her alive, for if they wished her dead, they'd have already killed her by now. It only showed Arthur that their plans were not finalized; that they were still in the works of making them. This would give Arthur the opportunity to listen to them plot, and also, to plan an escape.

"Thank you. Now, my lady...it's time to go to sleep for awhile." "Time for you to go to hell." Oh this wasn't going to be good! "Wait!" Arthur stated but it was too late. The rag had been forced on her mouth, for her to inhale, and moments later, she fell unconscious. Arthur watched them carefully, seeing them pick her up. "You don't have to do this. Let her go and -- " Arthur suddenly felt something hit him from the back of his head, immediately causing him to fall to the ground, rendering him unconscious. Clearly they had not wanted to waste any time trying to get close enough with the rag to him. Had he been able to stay awake, he would have been able to keep a keen sense of where they were going, and how far they were being taken. But now, he would not know the path. His body was carried by a couple of men, thrown on horseback and then led over to where they had set up camp.

Arthur was unsure as to what time it was when he finally felt himself awake. His hands were tied against a tree but he did not struggle immediately. Instead, he was trying to open his eyes, feeling an intense dizziness from having been knocked unconscious. His vision was blurred initially, and he felt terribly groggy. But this was not the first time he'd been knocked out, and he doubted it would be the last. He quietly groaned, trying to get the pounding to stop in his head and trying to orientate himself. Where was he? Who was he with? Where was -- "Celta?" He immediately asked, feeling a slight panic within him of where they had taken her. He may have been disoriented, but the second recollection of the most recent events registered, that was when his concern instantaneously surfaced.

[[ Didn't want to god mod where she would be! So left him a bit confused and oblivious! hahah! ]]

[Celta Meiru]

The sun had completely set upon the dark forest as the group of men traveled to their next stop, where they set up another camp in hopes of finishing their plans to assassinate the prince. They grabbed the two unconscious prisoners from the horses and tied Arthur to a tree before throwing cold water in the young woman's face and rudely waking her up by a hard slap. They knew they had to take a different approach with her than most noblewomen.

Celta was drifting and dreaming of times she had lived in the forest, before she lived in Camelot. She would make herself fires at night to keep Eolas and herself warm as they wandered from place to place, and sometimes kind strangers in the woods took them in for a night or two, but then they would eventually be up and on to the next location. Celta also spent her time in taverns throughout different cities around Camelot and Mercia, yet never stopped close enough to the heart of either, for she would never let herself be recognized.

And so she was severely angry at whoever hit her awake for disturbing such a peaceful and endless sleep. That's when everything rushed back to her...the men, their plot, finding Prince Arthur, the fighting, and then a dizzy unconsciousness followed. There was no pain in her head save for the red mark on her cheek from the hand of the man in her face, so she knew she hadn't been struck by anything to knock her out. It had to be a drug of some sort.

Her eyes were shards of ice as they death glared the men around her and the fire. They had stopped talking amongst themselves for the most part and were either leering or scowling at her in return. The leader had been the one who struck her, but she still showed no fear. She wasn't extremely afraid of this group of men, at least not enough to show it. The young noblewoman lifted her chin up to look him right in the face and blinked a few times,

"Good evening to you, too," she snapped sarcastically before turning silent again, although her mind was still a tad hazy from the drug in her system. His brow raised, yet his eyes narrowed even more as he knelt by her.

"What did you hear?" he asked her straight forwardly. She remained silent as she kept her gaze on him, yet her mind immediately sobered at the thought of Prince Arthur. She was terrified for him and his safety. Where was he? What had they done to him? She needed to see if he was hurt in any way. She would never be able to look him in the eye again if she knew he was injured or worse, and she could've done something to stop it.

A sudden and very hot pain raced through her, and she looked down quickly to see a burn mark on her skin. Tears formed in her eyes, and she couldn't help a short gasp of breath that escaped her lips. The man took the hot iron off her skin and stared her down once more. She barely heard his repeated question from cringing against the pain. He growled and put the iron back down to her arm, burning her and watching her as she bit her lip and stifled a sob.

"I'm not sure what I heard. Please." Celta finally managed to push out a lie after a few more times as her head sank and her eyes closed to shut out the pain of the iron against her skin. The leader grabbed her by the hair and pulled her over to a tree across from Arthur, securing her tight there and then leaving them to go back to the camp to discuss plans. She tried not to cry as her head fell back against the hard bark of the tree.

"Arthur?" she asked weakly when she was sure they were all out of earshot. "Please tell me you can hear me."