#he CHARGED into battle and nearly DIED if not for owens eye PROTECTING HIM | Explore Tumblr Posts and Blogs

angstymarshmallow · 6 years

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“The Battle for Willesden” (Part 11 Of Fantasy AU, a TRR fanfic)

[A little note: I told myself I wouldn’t go to bed this time without finishing chapter eleven after agonizing over it for a week. It’s still rough, but I am honestly just excited...and tired at 3:00 am to edit over pls forgive me. I would love to know your thoughts and without further ado, here it is! Thanks for reading :D]

[Summary: Sparrow’s betrayal has left the commnfolk of Willesden terrified. With enemies now within their walls, can Robyn (MC), Drake, Maxwell and the villagers find a way to protect this town from Neville’s cruelty?]

[Word Count: 6062]

Part 1: “The Beginning” Part 2: “The Adventurer” Part 3: “The Knight” Part 4: “The Jester” Part 5: “The Untimely Meeting” Part 6: “The Unlikely Alliance” Part 7: “The Mismatched Trio” Part 8: “The Ambush” Part 9: “The Plan B” Part 10: “The Rebels of Willesden”

The tendrils of flames licked and burned mahogany wood away; brighter than any star in the midnight sky and far brighter than any fire Robyn had ever seen. It spread quickly until there was hardly anything left, except for mountains of ash and the resonating sound of stunned silence from the onlookers that had intended to storm the mayor’s home.

Owen had led the charge, his jaw set tight with determination and his will hell-bent on forcing the man to see reason. However, at the sight of Sparrow and the mercenaries trailing behind the spy, he had ordered everyone into a heart-stopping halt. And like the rest of the villagers – he found himself unable to look away; transfixed and horrified by the fearsome image they made – the of them with Sparrow’s small and lithe figure standing in the middle. Fear kept him rooted. Anger compelled him to stay.

From where they stood, Robyn’s own lips gaped at the intimidating display they created, but her shock was just as quickly replaced by anger. Anger and resentment for allowing herself to be deluded into thinking Sparrow cared.

The air around Robyn seemed to sizzle with the flare of her temper – a burning, nearly all-too consuming resentment that built the longer she stared. She could feel her hackles rise, could feel magic coursing and pumping through her veins – its familiar lull enticing her to speak. Forcibly, she bit into her lower lip hard enough to draw blood as her fear of spiraling out of control replaced her bitter temper at Sparrow’s betrayal.

She couldn’t allow herself to lose control. Not here. Not now.

Although, she knew Sparrow’s past was complicated and checkered, she thought their…comradery would have been enough to quell the small warnings that had rang inside her head when they first reunited at the tavern. Even worse, the gold pieces to ensure their silence did nothing to deter them.

Staring pensively ahead, Robyn realized trusting them had been a mistake. Since the very beginning, she imagined they were playing with a full deck and Robyn was simply dealt a bad hand.

She fought her way to the front of the crowd, not bothering to mutter excuses to the shoulders she bumped along the way. She was far too agitated and anxious to pay mind to anyone apart from who she was looking for. “Drake, Maxwell.” She hissed every now and then, until she had finally managed to find Owen – who looked tenser than she thought possible.

“Owen.” She called his name hesitantly and watched those eyes snapped to attention before flickering over at her in horror.

Her stomach dropped.

Shit.

He didn’t have a plan.

“Owen,” She tried again, fighting the abrupt panic she felt rising to her throat. “Owen, you need to stay calm.” She took a deep breath; trying to keep calm herself although her brain had already begun scurrying for an alternative way out of this mess.

She did not want to die today. “Are you with me?” She did not want to die at all.

The fear in his eyes held. Her fingers dug into his arm. “Are you with me?” She repeated, emphasizing every word. Slowly, she watched as his eyes changed into resolute steel.

“Aye.” He nodded.

She released a sigh, dropping her hands to her side. “Okay, good.” She couldn’t hide her relief.

She was afraid for a brief second that there had been no way to reach him. She had seen that look before, and fear as strong as that could destroy anyone. But he couldn’t stay there, there would end up with everyone dead and too many people relying on him to end up dead. “Have you seen –?”

“We’re here.” A voice interrupted.

Robyn broke eye contact with Owen to glimpse back at their familiar faces.

Drake and Maxwell met her relieved stare with one of their own. The knight’s eyes lingered a few seconds longer before his lips turned into a withering sneer and every ooze of worry had gone dry. “You told us to trust them.” His voice was accusatory and Robyn flinched.

“I know,” she mumbled weakly. There was nothing she could say in her defense, no admission of how terribly wrong she had been to trust Sparrow. Still, her lips fumbled with finding an apology adequate enough to make the creases in his brow disappear.

Drake ignored her. He had no time for such things. He shifted his gaze to Owen. “We need to get out of here.” He stated flatly.

Owen blinked at him, as though in a daze before shaking his head vehemently. “No.”

What?

Drake stared at him in disbelief. He had to fight every nerve that was suddenly yelling at him to shove beefier man and twist his arm. Heavens, was he insane?

Drake’s jaw clenched.

“You can’t be serious,” Maxwell’s mouth flew open. He gestured behind them. “Everyone here will die.”

His voice had been loud enough to cause the crowd to stir. A single few of them stepped back while others murmured among themselves. Strangled gasps came from the rest, until Owen’s second in command – the woman with the scars had shushed them into begrudging silence. She waited patiently even with the shroud of doubt hanging in her eyes for Owen to speak on their behalf.

“There are more of us.” Owen said insistently.

“Numbers are not everything.” Drake pointed out. “Nor do they always work as an advantage.”

On that, Robyn could agree. Even with half of them gripping their makeshift weapons; she could tell by the way their hands shook that they were not well-equipped to deal with the mercenaries – people that have already killed and would kill again in cold blood without hesitating.

“Has any of them ever fought before?” Drake responded hotly, his own temper rising with every word. He couldn’t believe their leader would so easily dismiss the two dozen mercenaries that halted to watch them from the top of the hill. “Has anyone of them even held a sword –” he jerked his chin to one villager in particular; who had been trembling violently as they spoke. “ - or struck at another man with the intent to kill?!”

“Drake –” Out of the corner of her eyes, Robyn realized most of the crowd was staring at them. All conversations of unease had fallen into a standstill to listen and she could feel the change in the air; growing tenser by the second – tense enough to cut even the thickest glass.

Drake ignored the quiet warning inside her voice. He would not dally in that likelihood, he did not want to mince his words. He had to force them to grasp what was on the line – how much danger they were in if they weren’t prepared. They had to fight to kill. They had to accept and live with those consequences, especially if the consequences meant they would not all survive. And it definitely did.

Stepping closer, Drake’s hands started trembling until he tightened them into fists and brought them to point at the larger man’s chest. “Has anyone of them watched someone else die? Someone they loved? Have you?”

“My mother died in Pinevale, the town over.” Owen’s eyes were unreadable. “She was travelling on business – for me. I was low on supplies and I needed someone to quickly slip out of town to procure some for me.” He shook his head as if struck by grief. “She left and never came back. A week passed before I heard the news….the mercenaries they…they paraded her carcass.” He lifted his chin higher. There was no longer a hint of fear inside his eyes - only fierce determination. “I don’t want what happened to my mother to happen to my son, or my wife. Or anyone else in Willesden because the mayor doesn’t have the galls to do what needs to be done.”

From behind him, the crowd begun whispering amongst themselves; murmurs of agreement with every word their leader spoke. And Robyn felt something strange happen in that moment. In that moment, they were not a simple crowd of disgruntled villagers – they were a single entity, guided by the divine purpose of setting things right again.

And she wanted to help them.

“We may not all have experience like you sir.” Owen continued, unmasking his brunt greatsword. “But we are all prepared to risk our lives– because that is how much this means to us, how much freedom means to us and we won’t allow anyone to take away our freedom.”

The murmurs increased into cheers rose as people begun clapping each other on their backs.

Drake nodded, amazed and shocked by the sheer amount of people that willingly followed Owen. Even he was beginning to feel something inside himself stir at his words, as though this was indeed salvageable – that they could somehow come out of this alive. Truthfully, he admired him – admired every one of these villagers for not turning tail to run.

“So, what is the plan, Sir Drake?” Robyn asked, interrupting his thoughts. “You’re the one with the most experience.”

Drake surveyed the distance between them and the mercenaries – neither of which were moving. He couldn’t see Sparrow’s expression from there; but they appeared to be waiting for them to make the first move – which gave them time. “We do have the numbers,” he muttered with a sigh, “but unfortunately that’s all we have.” He turned back to scrutinize the crowd, “we should divide into two. Hit them on two fronts – with the most experienced people watching flanks.” He pointed to Owen, “you lead the first group, and I’ll lead the second. A smaller group to give yours a better chance.” He unsheathed his sword.

“I’ll come with you.” Robyn said without thinking. She hadn’t realized she had spoken aloud until both Maxwell and Drake stared at her in surprise. She folded her arms, “someone has to make sure you get out of this in one piece.”

Maxwell laughed, “have I ever mentioned how much I like you Lady Robyn?”

Drake ignored the strange flutter from her words and frowned at Maxwell’s teasing. These were things he could dwell upon later, however now was not the time to examine his feelings. He returned his attention to Owen and begun planning.

They split them into two; with Drake’s group acting as the decoy while the bulk of them lobbied behind their leaders.

None of the villagers questioned their new orders, instead they were huddled behind Owen, raising their pitched forks, brunt knives and other weapons that they grabbed in their hurry towards the mayor’s house. Maxwell had strongly implored to join Drake’s smaller and unmatched team, however the knight reassured him he would be fine. Ignoring the nobleman’s pout, he ordered him to remain with Owen in order to keep an eye on him.

Drake didn’t want to admit it but Maxwell was an excellent swordsman. He remembered brief moments of admiring his form and technique when they were younger and told the man with a gruff pat on the back to come back alive.

At least, he thought his don’t get killed transitioned well into that. He also ordered the nobleman to keep an eye on Owen. Then he joined the rest of his companions to watch in silence as Owen delivered to the crowd a final parting speech.

“I am grateful for all your help,” Owen begun with an amiable smile. “To stand by me when you could have easily abandoned me – to stand for our cause against people that would take everything from us…no words can express how much this means, how thick and deep my gratitude runs. I do not know where the mayor is, but I know that in his place – I will always make it my vow to protect you.” His smile widened as people cheered his name, adding Mayor Owen to their chant before he moved to clap Drake’s back and then Maxwell’s. “Thank you for staying to fight with us.”

Drake unaccustomed to having people thank him, turned a slight shade of pink as he gave him a curt nod. “It’s an honour.”

Maxwell had hugged the larger man on a whim, and when Owen turned his gaze to Robyn; she gave him her own parting smile of goodbye. She hadn’t exactly shared his sentiments, or their success for surviving.

Marching to their group, Drake pretended not to notice Robyn’s uneasy stare. After a few seconds, he sighed and whirled around to face her. Her glance was fleeting as he arched an eyebrow. “Are you alright?”

She shrugged.

Realizing how soft his voice sounded, he forced a hard edge into is voice. “I hope you are planning on staying this time.” He said brusquely, “considering we were damned into this the moment you agreed with Maxwell to help that trading post.”

“I don’t think I should feel angry about having the chance to save people,” she threw over her shoulder; her eyes nearly flashing gold as she glared at him. “Knowing that we could make a difference.”

He clenched his jaw, remaining quiet.

She broke the stare first, shifting on one foot and averting her eyes towards the hill. It was nearly covered in smoke. “But I didn’t think this would happen, I don’t think anyone of us could – not even Maxwell.” Her shoulders dropped a fraction, “I certainly didn’t think I would be convincing myself to stay and fight….against a bunch of killers.” She wanted to laugh. “But I suppose I am still learning things about myself.”

“We will make it.”

He could hear the sudden despair in her voice, hear her resignation as though she didn’t share his faith. While his was wavering, he knew he couldn’t fight a way through this without placing more weight into their future. When she turned to him, her eyes were wide with fear that made his stomach clench. She – the bold adventurer, the woman with magic at her fingertips was terrified at the mere thought of their future. He would have laughed at the irony, if he hadn’t felt any sympathy.

Robyn paused, listening to his voice.

He sounded so damned sure – so damned certain that they could make it– when nearly everything inside of her was screaming otherwise. Her brain was telling her to run and her legs were telling the rest of her to flee and escape before things grew ugly.

And yet, meeting his eyes and seeing the uncanny intensity to his gaze – she knew she had all the reasons to stay. There were people counting on them, counting on her too – and she had never known what that was like.

The fear, the stress – the trepidation of ruining everything. It was overwhelming.

She felt the ghost of his fingers drift towards her hand. It happened quickly, so quickly she thought she had imagined it. But staring at him, hearing the quiet strength in his voice, made her want to believe in them too. “I’m a fool,” she said suddenly, “I’m a fool and yet I want to be anyway.”

His eyes never wavered from hers. “We’re all fools right now Robyn.” He said wryly.

The way he said her name made her warm for an entirely different reason. “I guess we’ll have to be fools together then.” Her hands were shaking, I’m too young to die – she thought to herself. I’m too young to see so much death. She felt alone – trapped in her own thoughts that begun spiralling out of control.

And suddenly, she wasn’t alone. She could feel his hand – finding her shoulder, burning through the fine texture of her blouse as the only barrier separating their skin. As she stared back at up him again, he squeezed her shoulder.

“You’re not alone.” He said quietly, “I’m here. We’re all here and we will make it.”

Drake had never been a man of many words but seeing her panic – something inside of him wanted to comfort her, to placate the fear he knew all too well. Fear that had kept him shackled when he was young, fear that even now – threatened to overwhelm him. Touching her had been a reflex – something he shouldn’t have done, but knew it was the right call once she nodded back at him. “We’ll make it.”

Robyn released a breath she hadn’t comprehended she was holding. She nodded mutely, still gathering her bearings as he stepped away and created distance between them. She slipped her silver dagger out of her pocket and ran her fingers across it, testing its sharpness. “We’ll make it.” She said finally.

He nodded back and they looked ahead.

The decision had been made.

Drake took his smaller team first into the fray. He raised his sword high above his head, armed with his battle cry as he led the charge towards the hill. Fifteen men and women followed behind him, screaming along with him as their feet scampered across the ash-covered grass.

They did not have to wait long.

The mercenaries begun moving as soon as Sparrow gave the order, raising their own arm in retaliation before the bandits flocked with them. They moved fluidly, as though they were one unit – and quite faster than the disorganized group still trailing behind Drake.

And yet, Drake did not allow that to deter him.

He was fighting for something again, something he believed in – and it felt good. It felt damned good for him to fight for something worth fighting for. And every swipe of his sword seemed to echo how much this would mean to people that needed it.

His battle cry had taken a few mercenaries off guard and he didn’t hesitate to rush into the first one. He slammed into him, nearly knocking the man off his feet. He wasn’t wearing armor and had to be careful, yet the way he was taught to hold his sword required a more closer and hand’s on approach.

The mercenary’s arms flayed to try and stop himself from falling and Drake took it as an opportunity to shove the shorter man back, spotting and quickly stabbing right through the weakness in his armor – a small plating that was half-broken by his leg. The man cried out as blood funneled in spurts and yet, Drake did not stop his relentless pursuit until he could sever the leg and swept through the air for his neck.

Near-by, Robyn nimbly dodged the tip of a bandit’s sword. She grinned cheekily at him and he scowled at her. He launched himself towards her petite figure, however she was prepared. Sidestepping, her silver dagger caught a flicker of light from the moon – blinding them long enough for her to stab them into their eyes.

The man grunted, falling to his knees before she kneed him hard.

The dagger in her hand shook slightly as she plunged it into his neck. She mentally prepped herself as another mercenary ran towards her.

Robyn knew she had to keep her emotions in check and yet sensing then seeing Sparrow only a few feet away; slicing clean through a villager nearly made that impossible. She was still furious at them for selling them out – especially after their payment agendas had been arranged.

Accustomed to being quick on her feet, Robyn deftly ducked a sword’s oncoming blow seconds before it could find her head. She feinted right and dug her dagger into the side of the mercenary’s face the moment an opportunity had made itself.

He cried out and she yanked her dagger noisily back before placing the weight on her front leg to shove him back. He fell without much resistance and she tore through his flesh, watching as his body fell lifelessly on top another.

Magic sizzled in her skin – seeking, aching for release as she buried her dagger through their skulls. She concentrated on ignoring its lull. It was difficult – focusing on that and on the present. But she gritted her teeth through it, and before long her mind was no longer trying to remember the familiar lingering spells she often used.

Maxwell’s rapier sailed through the air, like an instrument of death it played its deadly song before driving itself through the hearts and appendages of its enemies. It was almost like a dance in itself, a dance that needed no partner apart from the person wielding its sword, effortlessly hacking through a crowd of enemies.

The rapier fell back from the sky into Maxwell’s waiting hand as he slid and caught it between two heavily wounded mercenaries. He ended their lives quickly, jerking his wrist upright enough for the sword to break through their skin.

He a felt brief sense of guilt when he heard their cries of anguish but this was not the first, nor would it be the last of their troubles. And he had to remind himself that every flicker of guilt as he met their horrified expressions – was nothing compared to the people they killed for someone else. They had a lot of deaths on their hands, and it was time for them to answer for their crimes.

Maxwell kept one hand behind his back as another man launched himself at him and sorely missed. “HA!” He cried out in triumph.

He could not celebrate for long as he ducked in the nick of time, Owen’s sword as the larger man lumbered in his surrounding area; knocking down several mercenaries from reaching the villagers. “Yaaaaaargggg!” The larger man yelled; blood sailing through the air from the sides of his weapon.

Heavens. Maxwell thought, shaking his head before returning his attention at felling another mercenary. It was out of his knowledge why Drake had been so concerned with the blacksmith, from where he was standing – he needed to worry about keeping himself safe. With that blasted man swinging his sword around, he wasn’t sure anyone should be worried for him.

Sparrow weaved through people effortlessly and Robyn watched in quiet horror as the numbers on their side dwindled significantly. There were only five of them left – no – four as she watched another figure sag to their knees once Sparrow was done with them.

A pair of desperate screams made Robyn freeze in recognition. Maxwell and Owen were having difficulty too. Although she could not see them directly from the huddled bodies and splatter of blood and limbs; the number of villagers still holding onto their weapons and jerking them at the invaders kept dwindling by the second.

Heavens, Robyn swore.

If they were going to have any chances of winning – Sparrow had to be dealt with. There was no way around getting her removed from their list. Knowing they were the better fighter, though Robyn sidestepped at the mercenary to launch herself at Sparrow’s back.

At the last second, Sparrow’s body froze and they turned to meet Robyn’s attack head on. They lifted their arms and sidestepped her oncoming assailment and Robyn couldn’t stop herself in time. Her feet tittered and her arms flayed out in front of her as she felt a sharp pain in her side.

She dug her heels into the ground in order to stop herself from falling completely on her face, and instead whirled around fast enough to meet Sparrow’s blade with her own.

“Not fast enough little robin.” Sparrow cooed. Their eyes were wide, and their smirk almost a sneer.

“How could you?” Her own voice was lost all its calm, almost on the brink of frigidness. “How could you be apart of this?”

They ignored her.

“I know you are not above backstabbing – but this. Helping Neville to destroy all of this – I did not think you were be capable of such things.”

Sparrow snorted, switching her stance and deftly passing through Robyn’s guard. Their dagger sliced into her forearm and Robyn winced but bit her lip hard to prevent the scream that burned her throat. “Every one looks out for themselves, that is human nature.”

“What about helping people?” Robyn winced again. She could feel something wet to her side but she didn’t care. Shoving her back, she glared. “That is human nature too.”

Sparrow scoffed. “Oh, the lies you tell yourself little robin.” They tasked. “You’re nothing like that. You’re like me.”

“I am nothing like you!”

“Always vanishing without a trace?” They prompted, edging closer. “Never letting anyone in long enough? Face it, we’re on the same side of any coin. You just won’t admit it to yourself.”

“I –” Robyn fumbled to answer. “That isn’t –”

“You may have these people fooled, but I know the real Robyn – hidden under it all. You’re just as selfish and terrible as I am.”

Maybe Sparrow was right. Maybe she was hanging too long around people that didn’t understand her. Maybe she was deluding herself into thinking this was her – someone who cared for other people. Maybe she –

No.

Suddenly standing in the middle of this field, clutching the dagger close to her chest, Robyn could remember Cynthia’s word striking true to her heart. She wouldn’t be that type of person anymore, she wouldn’t become Sparrow.

Robyn’s expression softened while Sparrow’s had grown harder. “It isn’t too late.”

Sparrow’s face fell and for a few split seconds she could see the person before they became Sparrow. A vulnerability that used to be them before the world taught them there was no black and white – only grey. And then it was gone. The mask was back in place as Sparrow took another threatening step forward. “Then die with the rest of them.”

They moved very quickly, as though they were soaring through the air instead of jumping towards her. They had almost become a blur, and Robyn managed to barely spot them in time for their dagger to sail through the air.

She met their blade with her own again until Sparrow swiped her feet from under her. “Ugh,” she cried out in pain once her back hit the harsh ground. Sparks of pain had traveled to her spine and she almost had lost her head rolling in the opposite direction of them.

“I am almost going to miss you.” Sparrow cocked their head to the side. Ignoring the chaos around them, they stalked towards her. “Almost.”

“You don’t have to do this Sparrow, you could cut ties from Neville.” Robyn implored her, scrambling to get to her feet. “You could start over.”

Their cruel smile grew. “An assassin is only as good as their word.”

Robyn’s stomach dropped. Fear gnawed at her stomach; made it hard for her to breathe past the pain stinging from her ribcage. She clutched her side for a moment as her fear rose with every breath until it had finally overwhelmed her.

She could hear it. Bells inside her ears, buzzing loudly and with such intent to replace her fear. She didn’t think – she simply listened to the whispers, she reacted. Her arms braced themselves in front of her and she tasted magic in the air.

Her fingers sparked to life.

Her knees threatened to buckle as magic coursed through her veins, flooding and pumping through her very being with the resolute power to stop Sparrow. Words that weren’t English had been clear as day inside her mind and she spoke them without hesitance – but they weren’t her. The words that had strung itself together were something otherworldly powerful. It was almost too much to hold onto, and the urge to consume it all had been well within her reach.

Before Sparrow could reach her, they fell to their feet screaming. Their hood was whipped back as though a gust of wind had struck them. But it was Robyn’s magic pouring through that staggered the assassin, and their eyes casted upwards while they collapsed to the ground. Their pale skin appeared feverish, and veins that were usually green had grown into a dark colour – pulsating with every passing second as a horrifying sickening noise escaped their throat.

But Robyn did not care.

Magic kept coming, kept pouring. It was fueled by her desire to make Sparrow pay – and she tapped into her reserves to until she had sunk to her knees. She kept feeding the spell with energy and watched as blood begun trailing out of Sparrow’s nose. She watched as their cries became horrifying screams and their ankles bent out of shape when they tried to stand.

“You do not deserve to live.”

The words came from her – but were they her?

The power she felt was electrifying – better than anything she had done before – better than anything she had felt before. Her own knees finally gave out, and she sunk inside the grass when her vision finally blurred and dimmed. She tasted her own blood, pouring towards her lip before she finally ended he spell; sinking heavily into the grass as Sparrow fell unconscious.

Robyn couldn’t tell if they were still alive, but she had done her part. Sparrow was out of the fight and by the looks of it – they were finally turning the tide in their favor.

As Drake cut the last mercenary that came at him by his feet, his eyes had automatically sought her. It was not something he had been aware of at first, and yet over the course of fighting; his mind had not been entirely able to focus. The stubborn mage had been plaguing his mind with worry.

He hated that he was worried. He hated that he hated it. It was confusing for him, but it was not the first time he looked for her – only to shake his head free of such thoughts. It was annoying him more than anything. It was distracting him, had caused two men to slice his shirt at the sides and now there were holes in them.

However, this was the first time he had completely lost sight of her.

And for a moment, panic had flared through his chest. Panic he couldn’t understand for someone he barely knew – but he couldn’t deny its existence. He needed to find her.

The sudden urge had nearly become a need in order to ensure her safety.

He gripped the hilt of his sword tighter as he shoved through the bodies of fallen men and women – hoping that she would not be among them.

Drake knew the smarter decision was to find Maxwell and Owen – they would need his assistance to cut off the rest of the mercenaries from taking Willesden, yet his mind kept foolishly searching for her – for any sign of her dark unruly hair beneath her red cloak.

His feet halted. He spotted her– center field with Sparrow fighting. He hadn’t known a fear like the one he currently had was capable of freezing him at this spot.

Yet it did and he wondered as they danced circles around each other if he should interfere. He had convinced himself to within seconds until apprehension at the sudden expression in Robyn’s eyes made his stomach shudder. She was going to use magic.

He saw the flare of magic – saw how much raw power Robyn possessed and it was nearly too bright to watch. Her hair had picked up, and Sparrow begun screaming – pain and fear mingling altogether. It was a true taste of fear that had almost staggered him to the ground.

He had never seen such raw power before – even the mages that had attacked Cordonia had taken sometime to affect him before kidnapping the Prince. But this…this was unprecedented. This was terrifying.

Her eyes had shone in that blazing amber gold so fiercely, that he swore they were almost too painful to look at. And Sparrow had almost withered away into nothing until Robyn had suddenly collapsed, falling immediately to her knees.

For a moment all Drake could do was stare, stare in shock, in fear – in awe. It was like watching a blazing star reaching supernova – and now that it was all over, he did not know how to feel. He did not know how to react either.

He was going to turn away, when he realized she wasn’t moving from her spot. Trying to compel himself to move, he ensured the area around her was safe enough for him to cross.

Robyn hadn’t heard him. Her ears were still ringing dully until she felt a hand helping her to her feet. Her first instinct was to shove the stranger away, but she had felt too weak to even manage that. Instead, she stared helplessly up at familiar face. “..Drake?” She called out weakly.

She had anticipated the flash of fear in his eyes – of hate even, if he had witnessed what she had done she expected him to run his sword right through her. She was – on all accounts, a dangerous mage.

And yet, he did not. Much to her surprise, he kept his good arm around her in order to keep her upright. “I’ve got you,” he mumbled quietly, not quite meeting her gaze. But she had already seen it – the unfamiliar look of softness before he hardened his expression. Was he concerned for me?

She couldn’t wrap her head around that. She was much too exhausted to even examine anything any further. “The fighting….” She mumbled.

“Most of it is done,” Drake’s jaw was tense. “I caught sight of Maxwell and Owen snuffing out the few that were left.”

“I guess our number advantage really worked in our favour, huh?” She had meant that as a joke but the knight hadn’t as much as cracked a smile.

He frowned. “We still lost a good amount of people,” he drifted his eyes towards Sparrow. “Are they –”

“Unconscious.” Robyn murmured, feeling his shoulders grow stiff as soon as he asked. “I think we should probably tie them up though – just in case.”

“Ah.”

She didn’t know if she should be insulted by the sound of relief inside his voice. “I’m not a killer Drake, I never have been.” She snapped defensively.

Something passed through his eyes, something she couldn’t describe before he clenched his jaw again. She winced when she felt his warm hand by her side.

A crease formed at his brow. “You’re bleeding.”

“I’ve seen…worse.” She could barely manage a semblance of a sentence. Why was it suddenly so difficult for her to speak? Her words were turning into mush, her knees growing weak again until she was having trouble standing altogether. “What-what’s…”

“You’re all out of adrenaline.” Drake said the words softly, as he scooped her into his arms. He had done so without thinking, but he scarcely convinced himself it would be easier than dragging her back. “Just fumes now.”

“I-I’m fine, I just need –” But she couldn’t finish her thought; her world was already closing – drowning towards the edge of the abyss. She blinked rapidly. “I just need a good nap.”

“I think you’ve lost too much blood.” And yet, there was a hint of a smile in his voice that had her glancing sleepily to meet his expression.

His eyes were soft again and this time she was able to place what she saw. Tenderness. Concern. With a jolt, she understood that he cared about her – or at least, he cared enough to find her.

Drake’s throat had gone dry. A sudden lump had been where it had not been before. Look away, Walker. Look away. Yet, he could not.

He knew better than to linger too long on Robyn’s face, because despite the cuts and bruises, the dried blood – she was….she was a welcoming sight. And the longer he stared, the less sense his world made. She was shifting it. And he was terrified what would happen when he could no longer recognize it.

Yet he did not look away, did not stop himself from cupping her cheek to prove to himself she was truly here – and not under the bodies of the dead. And when she turned her face automatically to nuzzle into his hand, his throat ached.

The abrupt cheers ringing through out the hilltop had caused him to nearly drop her entirely.

Robyn placed a steady hand on his arm, and together they turned to stare at the remainder of villagers still alive a little down below; clutching one another for support – crying in triumph and laughter despite the loss of their fallen comrades.

“We won.” Drake couldn’t believe the words as he said them himself. “We won.” He repeated, grinning in disbelief. He glanced down excitedly– only to find the woman inside his arms to be fast asleep. Hugging her a little closer to his body, he slowly made his way down the hill.

While battle for Willesden was over, the knight knew this was just the beginning. Their true battle would never be over so long as Neville was alive and his hands of cruelty kept overshadowing them.

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