~<>~

The plan had been a good one. The plan had been a good one that is, until they realized it was a trap.

Arthur was the first to begin to suspect something was wrong. It felt too easy, things were going too smoothly. It had taken them the full three days to plan this and now things were falling into place exactly as they should. That just didn't happen. Things always went wrong.

Arthur, Goosefat Bill, and Bedivere were in the abandoned house that had been chosen. Goosefat stood by the window and had the perfect line of sight for taking his long distance shot on the king. He had an arrow knocked and they were just waiting for Vortigern to step into place.  Trumpets sounded to announce the arrival of the king. Like he was being delivered to them in a silver platter.

"This is too easy," Arthur muttered as the subjects all fell on their knees and the King stepped off his barge, giving them a perfectly clear line of sight. The subjects knelt, but the captain of the guard stood tall and proud awaiting his king.

Goosefat drew the bow, resting his cheek and looking straight down the arrow. He started to count his breaths.

"Wait, wait don't fire," Arthur called, his voice barely above a whisper.

Goosefat flicked his eyes in Arthur's direction but he didn't relax his position. He was set up for the shot and he wouldn't throw away this one chance just because the boy-king was getting cold feet.

"Why not?" Bedivere demanded impatiently, although he too seemed unlikely to listen.

Arthur shook his head, unable to fully articulate what it was that bothered him. Something about the way the captain stood, the way he watched the man who was supposed to be the king. He wasn't respectful enough. When they had him captive every single person who addressed Vortigern did so with absolute reverence. This didn't feel like that.

"Something doesn't smell right," he finally settled on saying, knowing it wouldn't be enough to convince the other men. Bedivere might want to believe in him as King, but neither man was ready for him to actually take that first step and have to follow his orders.

Bedivere's jaw tightened in frustration. "It smells as right as it is ever going to smell," he said, the stress making his accent thicker than usual. "Bill," he implored turning to Goosefat. "Get on with it."

"It's a trap!" Arthur hissed.

"How would he know?" Bedivere demanded. They were running out of time. Vortigern would only stop for a moment before being ushered inside to face the barons.

"Don't know, Maggie, maybe," Arthur implored but he could see he was losing whatever ground he had gained with Bedivere. The old knight cared too much for Maggie, he would never even consider the fact that she had betrayed them. Even if she was the only person who could have.

Bedivere shook his head and turned to look back out the window. His eyes were locked on the king. He had waited too long to let this opportunity slip through his fingers. Vortigern had spilled too much blood to be allowed to live.

"Maybe he knows she's working for us!" Arthur said suddenly, whisper yelling to be heard. "I am telling you, that is not the King."

Bedivere pulled back as though he had been struck. It had never occurred to him that Maggie could be in danger. She had been a spy in the palace since the beginning and never once been compromised. Worry creased his face as he considered the risk she had taken coming to the caves. He would never forgive himself if she had been hurt.

"You're right," Goosefat agreed, calm as could be. "It's not the king, he said with a shrug. "Oh well, at least Mercia is here," he said with a wicked gleam of determination in his eye.

"Goosefat-" Bedivere started to call his name, but he wasn't quick enough.

Goosefat let the arrow fly.

"What have you done?!" Bedivere asked in outrage. "You can't shoot if it's a trap."

"They'll never know where that arrow came from," Goosefat promised off hand, but he was already reaching for another arrow.

"We have men on the ground," Arthur snarled in warning. Men who would be on the front lines when the Black Legs sprung their trap. His patience with Goosefat's recklessness was reaching its end.

"You missed him anyway," Bedivere said, breathing a sigh of relief.

Goosefat's grin was cocky. "I didn't miss anyone," he said and he drew the bow a second time.

Arthur swung back to the window, his eyes scanning the crowd. The Earl of Mercia staggered and one of his men turned in the general direction it had come from. "Arrow!" he screamed and the first warning arrow was shot into the sky, unleashing a cloud of black dust to summon the rest of the guard.

Arthur swore. Even knowing it hadn't been the King, the trap was executed perfectly. Goosefat had stepped right into it and now they would be lucky to get out of the city alive.

The crowd exploded into movement. The Black Legs drew their weapons while the people who had gathered to see the king panicked and fled. The people pushed and shoved one another to get away from the Black Legs.

Goosefat let loose another arrow.

"What are you doing!" Bedivere exclaimed. "They're not targets at a fair!"

"That was Clarendon, he earned that," Goosefat snarled, the anger and pain in Goosefat's eyes made Arthur bite back what he was about to say. Goosefat and Bedivere had been fighting this war a lot longer than he had been and the look on Goosefat's face made Arthur think it was likely very personal.

Goosefat shot again at another noble who had betrayed them. After four shots there was no doubt their location would be discovered.

"We need to go now," Arthur said, grabbing Goosefat by the shoulders and bodily dragging him away from the window. Without a constant volley of arrows coming from the window their location would be harder for the guards to track, but they still had men on the street, some of whom had warrants on them by the Black Legs. The Mage was also out there, sequestered away safely on a rooftop yes, but Arthur didn't trust she would keep herself there if there was trouble. The need to get to her, to make sure she was safe was a pounding pressure in the back of his head. He never should have dragged her into this.

Arthur led the way down the stairs and opened the door at street level. The crowds were still panicky, fleeing every direction with no clear idea of how to get themselves out of trouble. Groups of people were screaming somewhere behind them.

Across the street, Percival, Rubio, Wetstick and Back Lack were all leaning casually against a building. Arthur nodded once to them, signaling they needed to move. Then he pulled up his hood and stepped calmly out the door and disappeared into the mob.

~<>~

The Mage realized before the others that it was a trap. She had been flying in lazy circles overhead when she saw the man who was supposedly the King step off the barge. There was something wrong in the way he carried himself however and when he stood before his royal guard he fidgeted nervously. He was a decoy and Arthur was about to step into a trap.

In the very next moment she realized she had no way of signaling to the others what she knew.  If she returned to her body she was too far from any of them to warn them. What good was she as a look out when she couldn't pass on a message.

She could bring her eagle to the house where she knew Arthur, Bedivere and Bill were preparing for Bill to take the shot, but that would risk giving away their position. It was already suspicious enough having an eagle in town. Let alone having it behave so unnaturally.

She watched helpless to do anything as Goosefat took the shot. She almost pulled up in shock when she saw he had not hit the imposter, but rather the captain of the guard. It didn't seem likely that Goosefat could have missed. She had watched him practice. He had not missed a single bullseye. Which meant he had chosen to take the shot on the captain of guard instead of the fake king. One of the other guards sounded the alarm
and black dust exploded in the air above the square.

She risked diving lower once just in time to see Arthur and the other men disappear into the panicked crowd. She pulled back to her body, releasing her eagle with a single push for it to fly far from the city. She swore aloud in French as she stood on shaky feet. It was time to move. They had agreed if anything went wrong they would meet in the old Roman bathhouse Arthur had shown her. It had been converted into a training ground of sorts, Arthur had explained, but it was safe.

The city was erupting into chaos. More puffs of black powder were exploding, showing a clear path of progression across the city. The Mage slipped unnoticed between the alleyways and roof tops. When she had to move out onto a road she blended easily into the crowd and no one looked her way. She could hear screaming behind her, but she had to trust that Arthur and the others were fine.

From what she could tell she had managed to arrive at the bathhouse just ahead of them. There was shouting and yelling just a couple of streets over. So much for hoping they had managed to sneak away unnoticed. It sounded like they were headed for the bathhouse and they were bringing the whole Black Legs guard with them.

She pounded on the door and it swung open to show a young man in rough spun training clothes. She shoved her way past him, marching through the narrow hall into the open courtyard that had once been the baths. The men all froze in shock at the sight of a woman in their midst, but The Mage didn't hesitate.

She looked over the group and easily picked out the man in charge.  He was only a few inches taller than her and Chinese. "Arthur needs your help," she called to him.

The man frowned in confusion for only a second before he turned back to his men and snapped off orders to them. The men in the training yard all raced back out the front door ready to help Arthur however they could.

~<>~

Things had gone from bad to worse. Arthur had hoped they could lose the Black Legs by winding through the city, but all they had done was draw more attention to themselves. He didn't know where Back Lack was or why he had not left with the group. They had also lost Rubio. Even injured he had bravely charged the Black Legs to give them a chance to escape.

Arthur and his men dropped over the wall into the alley with the Black Legs right on their heels. George's men were waiting with bows and arrows to provide cover as he and the others raced into the training yard.

Arthur pulled up, gasping for breath. Standing together at the center of the courtyard were George and The Mage.

"Lock the door George," Arthur called fighting to keep his tone even. George obeyed immediately. Both turning the lock and having two men life the heavy beam into the brackets to barricade the door. It would hold for now, but the Black Legs would find a way through.

He had brought trouble to George's door, but this was the safest place he knew. He didn't know if he was relieved to see The Mage had made it to the bathhouse in time to send the men out to help, or irate that she too had somehow ended up trapped with the rest of them.

"Still got the back door George?" Arthur asked, once George had returned to his side, looking at him like everyone else was, as though Arthur somehow had all the answers. He didn't. That was the problem. All these men looking to him to lead them and Arthur didn't know how to save them.

George nodded once. There was a loud thud and his eyes flashed to the door. The Black Legs had brought a battering ram.

"We need to get the lads out. And fast," Arthur said.

George was already shaking his head. "Not going to happen boss. They hate the Blacklegs and love a fight. They live for this," he said gesturing at the men around them who were already preparing for the inevitable conflict. Some had bows while others were twirling swords, warming up their muscles for when the door gave way.

Arthur stared at his old master in disbelief. "They're gonna die," he said bluntly. Not caring who heard. No one else seemed to be taking this situation seriously enough. The Black Legs were coming and they were going to kill everyone, whether they had taken part in the attack or not.

"They have trained their whole life for this," George said firmly.

Black legs appeared over the edge of the rooftop and one of the trainees fired several arrows in rapid succession, driving them back.

"Archers!" someone yelled and arrows descended upon them, killing a handful of the trainees.

Arthur's eyes were frantic as he turned to The Mage. She had already pulled back, finding cover behind a nearby pillar. Arthur breathed a sigh relief.

But The Mage didn't see it. She had already reached for her magic. She needed to buy them time and cover while Arthur came up with a plan. The only animals near by was a flock of crows. She connected with them and drew them towards the open roof lines overlooking the training yard. They swarmed, descending on the Blacklegs stationed there and swirled in intricate patterns, making it impossible to pick out a target below. She drew several away from the flock and attacked the soldiers faces. The Black Legs panicked, abandoning their bows as they swung their arms wildly to keep the animals at bay.

She could hear yelling behind her, arguing. Arthur was trying to organize an escape. He was desperate to not have more men die for him. She wanted to turn, to argue with him, to make him understand these men would never leave him, but keeping the crows was taking all of her focus.

Another loud thud echoed through the courtyard. Arthur turned away from George in frustration and marched over to the old entrance to the tunnels. He grunted as he fought to lift the old stone out of place. He flung it to the side and looked up.

"Right, you two first," he said gesturing to Goosefat and Percival who were standing close to him. "It's a straight run to the river."

"Right," Goosefat agreed, firing an arrow towards one of the Black Legs that was distracted by the crowd. The man shrieked as the arrow found its mark and he fell off the roof from sight. Goosefat turned back to Arthur looking smug. "You first."

Another thud sounded. "We don't have time to argue Bill," Arthur ground out.

"Some of us will make it out in time, some of us won't," Bill said matter a factly. As though it didn't matter to him if he did or not.

A thud came and it was followed by a groaning from the door hinges. "Well better some than none!" Arthur sputtered urgently.

"Right," Goosefat agreed. "You. First."

Thud.

Arthur ground his teeth at the stubborn man. He turned to the trainees. "Mike, get down the hole," he called. Certain Mike would listen.

The large man shook his head. "Don't like rats boss."

Thud.

Arthur's scowl deepened and he turned to another. "Dell."

Thud.

"Scared of the dark," Dell replied as he swung his sword experimentally.

"Really?" Arthur demanded in disbelief. He could hear the troops amassing outside the door, there was no way the other men couldn't hear it as well. Once that door gave way every Black Legs in the city would be coming through it.

Thud.

"George, will you tell them!" Arthur shouted. The pounding of the battering ram felt like a second heartbeat echoing in his ears.

Thud.

"Sorry boss," George said, shaking his head.

"Stupid batards, determined to die," Arthur growled and he pulled off his jacket, tossing it aside. He drew Excalibur, tossing the sheath away from him. Chances were good he wasn't ever going to need it again. 

The next thud was followed by a splintering of wood. One more, maybe two, and they would be inside.

When door burst open and the soldiers came in like a wave. The trainees threw themselves at the soldiers. Most were better trained, but they didn't have the armor to protect them and they were dying. Many took out several Black Legs soldiers before they were taken down themselves.

Arthur swung Excalibur one handed, swiping a Black Legs between the slats in his armor. He fell to the ground screaming. When he fell, Arthur lifted his gaze to find his next opponent.

His eyes however landed on The Mage. A Black Legs grabbed her and pulled a knife to her throat. The soldier laughed and jerked her small frame around so he was facing Arthur, as though he would use her as a shield.

The Mage lifted her gaze and met Arthur's across the courtyard. She saw something change in his eyes. She had told him he would use the power when it was worth it to him. She saw the moment that realization hit him.

Arthur swung around and grabbed the hilt of Excalibur with both hands. His eyes flashed a frosty blue and The Mage felt the power rise all around them as he embraced it fully for the very first time. She sucked in a breath as it hit her. It tingled along her skin and made the air feel thick, like a thunderstorm was coming.

It was too fast for the others to see, but The Mage used her magic and pushed against the veil so she could watch him. He took her breath away. He killed them all, smashing their blades to bits and ripping through them like the street fighter he was. He was absolutely relentless as he flung himself from man to man killing every single Black Legs who had come for them. He fought like Excalibur was at last his, he moved the like sword was part of him. The swords frosty magic shone out his eyes and made the blade glow brightly even through the veil.

When it was done Arthur stood alone in the center of the courtyard, Excalibur hanging from one hand, its tip in the dirt. He was gasping for breath and sweat made his shirt cling to his chest.

All of their people were staring at him in shock. They looked from the fallen bodies back to him in disbelief. Arthur stooped down and scooped up his sheath off the ground, and slid Excalibur inside. He slung the blade over his shoulder and looked back at the men watching him.

"We're going down the hole now," Arthur said. And this time, they listened.

The Mage watched the men moving around Arthur with something like reverence. Amidst the awe she recognized the slightly uneasy looks they cast Arthur's way as they stepped past him. It was the look of people who had witnessed power.

And Arthur was real power.

She was surprised to find she was a little sad. She mourned for Arthur. His men had seen him as The Born King now and there was no going back. From here on out he would no longer be Art and these men would no longer be his friends. They would be his subjects and he would be King Arthur.

~<>~