Breaking Chains

The Sky shook, and the world trembled. Aetri... Arthur... Aetri was lost. In the dream, in this feeling he felt now, drowned in the abyss of his dream.

He was only a boy when the Skies of Camelot were burned so furiously, that nothing could fall from its scarred body but pale ash.

"NO! NO! PLEASE! NOT THIS, I DON'T WANT TO SEE IT AGAIN, PLEASE!!!" He screamed... and as he suspected, He wasn't alone.

"I never did Understand your intense fear of responsibility...."

Arthu--Aetri... Turned in the waters, constrained by the shadow of these devils waters. And stood on current, warm and healthy, with a wide smile, was a broad old man, with long silver hair and warm smiley golden eyes.

"O-Ozwuld?" He floated, mouth agape, his tears spilling out into the dream around him "This is impossible, what's happening to me, what is this place?" He asked.

The Phantom merely chuckled and gestured to the darkness around him "This is Your Legacy. this is the dream... Everything that You are, is in this place."

Aetri nodded in a grim understanding "So... You're not real, none of this is real?"

"Depends on your definition of real. I never truly understood this place, Your father was always the one so fascinated with Dragons... and our heretige--"

"And yet, here you are, spindling riddles and not making any sense... Y-You said we were different, that we were more than men, but this, I feel... different, like I'm being stitched back together." The Muscle on his bones were tight with tension, his organs stirred inside as electricity struck beneath the skin.

"You've been blundering in the north for too long, away from your proper place, away from the south where we belong. An entire Identity, crushed and torn away for eight years, hundreds of our Kinsmen have fallen trying to avoid the mandated fact of our existence; that we are more than Human, and the chains that bind us in that responsibility can never be forgotten. No matter how hard you might try." Ozwuld whispered softly.

Bloody tears ran down Aetri's cheek, his eyes had shrivelled, leaving him to scream in the darkness. He struggled relentlessly, but a babe cannot leave the womb before it is born, and neither could he.

"You must come to peace with your past, make amends with Aetri's death, so that Arthur, Son of Uthyr, rightful Heir to the Throne of Britannia may be born." The Words struck an omen in Aetri, his body changing, form soft and malleable as the change continued.

"T-T-This isn't real, Y-You're not real. Tell me what you are, tell me what this is..." The Young Warrior pleaded.

But a voice only echoed on the Horizon as the Memory splashed into the prism of his consciousness "I am Guardian, the protector, I am the one who waits and watches from the Otherworld, and with the last of my dwindling power here... I, Watcher, Brother of Uthyr, the Ruler, Son of Henry, the Madman, will break your chains."

Arthur, only Twelves years old, Manically dragged the seizuring Black-Crow through the Palace halls.... The Soldiers had been ransacking every room, killing every servant that dare even scream at them.

Shaking and terrified, He'd ducked into one of the west corridors, struggling to drop Crow's quivering form beside him, blood oozing from her orifices "Miss Crow!" He called, gently touching the Spymaster who could but slump over and tremble "Miss Crow, please! please I need you--" Arthur sunk into the darkness behind one of the statues, heavily armoured men stomping down the corridor, dressed in arms of red, some in black, chasing a few of the cooks from the kitchen... and running them through.

He watched in horror, unable to do anything but hide from his attackers. After they had sheathed their sword in the backs of the corpses they left behind, the Invaders eventually left, and Arthur gasped Lady Black-Crows spasming shoulders. For hours He'd pulled and hauled this grown woman around the castle, too afraid and confused to think his way out... until.

Arthur's eyes were wide with panic, the image of Mordred, of Ozwuld... torturing his young mind, the way the flames ate at his bones, how it devoured him whole, it made the Boy's arms vibrate with fear.

But in his fear, his mind finally clicked _"That damn kid, always sneaking off to Ghettos, how the bloody hell does He keep getting away?" _He'd been eavesdropping on his mother and his uncle that day, hidden in the rafters after one of his famous visits to the Rat-hole... He'd escaped through the dungeons, through Black-alley and out through the Merchants district, that was the way out, that's how he'd survive--

An armoured hand gripped the arm of the statue. Arthur froze, wide-eyed, holding his breath as a Huge figure loomed above. His armour of ashen plate gleamed in the light, his breaths heavy and unnatural, Arthur's limps numbed and he remained completely still, horror freezing the blood in his veins.

He hadn't been seen yet... maybe he could... no... not with Black-Crow... this knight, doubtlessly one of Edwyn's... or Mordred's, what a stupid fucking name. The Omen of death grew closer, this man, or beast or whatever hid under this armour, would kill Miss Crow, and drag him to Edwyn, something that every single atom in his being refuted with extreme prejudice... luckily, or unluckily, it didn't come to that.

"HEY!"

Arthur's eyes streaked to the end of the hall, to see one that he least expected. Lady Henrietta, covered in scratches, nicks, cuts, her eyes wild with that peculiar house Weir madness.

Tiny and small as she was, Henrietta Weir hoisted this huge... wooden... thing, off of her shoulders and grinned manically, Pointing the shaft of the great mahogany structure, which she cranked back with a whirligig mechanism, the pointed shining harpoon notched at its centre gleaming threateningly "N-Night-Night. Knave." She stammered though the bowstrings of her creaked with pressure.

The Knight had only a moment to let out a fierce, inhuman grunt before the air cracked and the sound of steel piercing flash boomed, Arthurs, shielding his face as he was painted with blood... that was cold as it splashed on his cheek and hand.

The Figure thumped violently to the ground, and the Lady Chamberlain squeaked like a giddy mouse "BY THE BLOODY SAINTS DID YOU SEE THAT? I CRUSHED THAT COWARD, I TOLD YOU THE ARBALEST WOULD WORK!" She cried passionately.

Arthur smiled and lent out as Sir Harry stepped out, wiping blood from his brow and from his Sword, He didn't seem all too happy despite Henrietta's small victory. "Keep. Your voice. Down. Weir. You killed one man... one man, they are burning every fucker they can get their hands on. Stop pissing around and lend some actual assistance, we have to find Arthur and get him out of here."

Joy rose in his veins, finally, he would be safe, away from this danger, finally, He and the Castle guard would make things right, make things normal... but Aetri knew better, He knew that the Ashen colossus in his white plate had already begun to get to his feet.

This man, if you could even call him that, rose like the sun, in his stained plate and his skull-helmet, doubtlessly modelled after his mistress. This hulk of Knight had a 2-meter harpoon that had cut clean through the mail of his neck, running through his Adam's apple.

The Sight made Arthur shrink... but the Knight was no longer concerned with what might be hiding behind the statue and pointed his malice towards Henrietta and Harry.

Growling, it marched towards them, the Lady Chamberlain dropping her empty Arbelist and hiding cowardly behind Sir Randall "EEEEEEEP!" She cried.

Sir Randall took up his sword, gleaming in his gilded armour-like something out of an old wives tale, a dark smile on his face "Don't you just hate it when things get stuck in your throat. Why don't I lend a hand?" He whispered cockily, unfazed by this man who would walk after being throatfucked by a Metal pole.

There was a choice, Arthur knew it the moment the opportunity presented himself... Stay now, hope that Randall could defeat this inhuman force... or, He could run, abandon his rightful place and save himself--He often wondered what would have been different if he had stayed if he'd been anything but a cowardly child... maybe it would have been different.

He didn't even look back, not once, He'd merely wrapped his little arms around Crows Torso and with every inch of his might, He dragged her down the hall away from the battle, down the stairs and into the dungeons.

It was around the time that He had arrived in the dark cells, that exhaustion took its toll and He had to pause for breath. the torches burned on the walls and the boy slumped over the Spymaster, fist clenched, his face growing hot as He roared and screamed, batting his fist against the Cooble floor until his little hands were painted red.

Ozwuld... He was gone... Just like his father, Just like King Uthyr.

"Not really the best time for dramatics is it?"

The Boy jolted as His eyes darted to his side. Arthur could not see the woman behind the Reinforced Oaken door, barred at its centre and studded with heavy rivets bolted into the frame... sealed shut.

He could not see her face, but he caught a hint of her frazzled wild black hair, and her eyes which were deep azure, so dark that they were almost violet.

"F-Fuck off." He muttered, rubbing away his tears as He scowled deeply.

The Woman on the other side's dark brows skipped up her pale face "Such foul language for a young man, Your mother must be very proud."

"Says the criminal." He growled as He tried to shake Black-Crow awake. It didn't work.

The Woman said nothing, but she did groan, stretching out her long fingers; resting her hands in between the bars of the wrought iron door. Arthur frowned at the sight before him, it gave him chills to see... Iron stakes... driven through each of her wrists, bolted and shackled, piercing the flesh to clamp each together in a bloody and bruised mess.

He averted his eyes at the sight and merely continued to try and shake the Spymaster awake.

The eyes like a violet sunset gazed over Arthur, taking in the fine silk of his shirt and the Gold etched into the hem of his tunic. Those Violet eyes smiled "You're Prince Arthur, the Young Dragon, Aren't you?"

He scowled but did not point it at her as He was occupied.

"I knew your father you know, You look an awful lot like him.. of course, He was a lot paler, then again his mother wasn't Guinevere the Griffyn. I always detested Briton Nobles and their abnormally pompous traditions, those to the south wouldn't have taken to a Prince of western blood, maybe that's who's slaughtering all of Your friends out there? hmmm well... If You're here, and if my nose is still as keen as ever... then I'd wager that Bastard Princess Edwyn has returned, just like every poor fucker here knew she would and has killed Your Lord Uncle, furthermore... You Royals fancy words right? Yep, so Furthermore, Camelot the Capital of Britannia is under siege and You, are utterly fucked."

"I SAID SHUT THE FUCK UP!" Arthur roared, making the woman with Violet eyes flinch, though her eyes remained sunny. He was trembling, the image of Ozwuld... burning still branded on his mind, the sound of fire-eating flesh, it haunted him.

The Black-Haired woman went silent, and then, slowly slipped back into the darkness of her cell, and vanished.

Arthur suddenly felt alone, vulnerable, He arose to his feet and galloped to the bars. "Wait! please, come back... I'm sorry, I need help... don't leave me alone--"

"BOO!"

"AH!" The Boy flew back, raising his fists for a fight, but found only those haunting, laughing eyed.

"I'm probably gonna regret just letting you go, but I feel like I'll be doing jumping jacks on open fields in little time."

Arthur raised an eyebrow "Why would thee do that?"

Her eyes glowed with joy "Because I'm mad, that's what all the crazies do according to your pompous assertations, innit?"

He thoroughly scanned what little of her he could see, she had more hair than width and her face was shallow and dirty "Did your mum ever tell you about the power, of a dragons kiss?"

The Boy frowned "How is that going to fix this problem?"

"She's not alone in there... if you know what I mean. It has stripped her soul and devours her energy, but it just so happens that she is a Green-blood, Easterling brood, and their watch never stops ticking. And of course, as you know, My Prince, a Dragons Kiss was that of pure power and passion, it was sacred and forbidden to use on any but the Royal spouse." She gripped the bars, why was she so excited?

"I don't have time for this, I have to run, I have to get us away from here." He growled.

Her face near pressed against the bars "The only way out is in that kiss... Never fear the advice of strangers, commit your sins, let them carry you home." Arthur watched as she slipped into the darkness, her Azure eyes dissipating into the shadows.

The boy had been told since their first meeting. Boy, you are never to remove Spymaster Black-Crows Mask.

His father when he was 5 and his uncle again when he turned 9, that removing the Beautifully ominous mask was strictly forbidden, and yer he could hear boots marching down the long staircases, which would lead straight to him.

Arthur's fingers crept around the mask, and in one swift motion, swept his arm back. His eyes were tightly shut, he took a long breath and gently, opened his eyes.

He paused and sighed, she was soft-faced beauty, no older than 20, olive-skinned, terribly beautiful, with cropped short jet black hair. Arthur wasted no time, he said his prayer to the seven saints and lowered down to peck at Black-Crow's pale lips, his stomach twisting with butterflies... He'd had thoughts on this before.

A heat shot through their connection, it roared and blazed through Black-Crows body, and met the darkness within that would not allow subjugation. Black-Crow tensed furiously, her skin writhing with black veins as her eyes shot open and dared around the room before meeting Arthur slowly.

Carefully, she arose to look at Arthur closely with her pitch-black eyes "I cannot do anything for you." She whispered, twitching slightly.

"WHAT?" Arthur growled.

"silence yourself, listen to me!" She snapped back, sharp as a blade.

Arthur silenced himself.

"You have to give this vessel a purpose, it has no tether, it cannot exist without a tether. Give it a purpose and it will follow it for a time until it can no longer live without a new tether." She explained in a strange rising and falling tone, like a broken mechanism. "Tell it to take you to Lee-fu Ector." Her gaze was resolute as if she were struggling to remain conscious, forcing something like a human to call out to him; to ensure his protection.

Arthur nodded and spoke insistently "Miss Black-Crow, Take me to Lee-fu Ector."

Black-Crow went limp, the boots boomed and clambered closer, a surge of panic surged through Arthur, He had taken too long, He was too late.

He shot up to his feet and hopped on her toes, taking a few sharp breaths and preparing the best he could for what he needed to do. He needed to grab Black-Crow and move her as quickly as possible to the hatch at the end of the long, deep staircase... while fighting off fully grown men in armour and with Blades of noble steel.

With terror in his bones, He went to turn to pick up Black-Crow, but she wasn't there.

"Move."

Arthur cried as He was whisked up by supernaturally powerful arms, She cast him over her back where he barely had time to lock his arms around her torso, Lady Black-Crow, her mask restored bolted like a jaguar through the dessert, Arthur curling his legs around her tall and lean form as the two of them flew away.

A clattering of red lights clambered down the staircase, swords and pikes gripped tightly in their hands, ready to poke them both full of holes. Paravant Knights were notorious for their Bloodthirst.

Arthur clutched tighter, and Crow darting through the cells, jumping down the stairs, gliding down the pathway like a ghost as Arthur slid and grasped to hold on for dear life.

As the cells grew darker and the sound of boots began to vanish, Arthur and Black-Crow found the trapdoor, which Crow slid held open to ensure that the Young Prince would be the furthest from danger.

Arthur slid down the ladder, he was young, but he was springy and dextrous. But to his shock, Crow was already walking ahead, He looked back and then forward again, marching after the Spymaster as the ground above them shook. "I f-found this after father died."

Crow's mask turned to him momentarily before sliding back towards the path ahead "It was a Bog hole for the Prisoners before the Wickens invented the Portal plumbing system."

Arthur let slip a nervous laugh... He'd never heard Miss Crrow tell a joke before.

But she merely looked back with her eyeless mask and He quickly realised that it wasn't a joke. the dark passage was made of rigid stone, every so often it would ominously shake, making dust and rock fall from the ceiling, but it was the sounds that haunted him, as the path carried on upwards towards the streets of Black Alley.

They came upon a another ladder, leading above to old town... Screaming, explosions, roaring flames and demonic screetches loomed above. Arthur trembled with fear.

Black-Crow saw the boys terror and unravled her silk shawl from under her feathered cape. Kneeling down, she wrapped it around him, and took his hand tightly in hers. "Do not, let go. Do not stop running, even if I fall, keep running to the gods eye and we will meet at my keep."

"Blackwatch."

She nodded.

Arthur didn't want to be alone, he was shaking so much that he could barely think. "I command you to stay with me, Don't leave my side, n-not ever again!" He stammered, every cell in his body screamed danger, and yet, with Black-crow keeping the boy clutched tight under her wing, the two climbed the ladder and together, counted to three and burst out of the hatch.

_NO! NO NO NO STOP!!! _The dream shook as Aetri writhed, a storm was born inside of him, the sky called for him, to welcome him home.

The Two had erupted from the grate, to a slaughter... giant scaled salamanders, smothered in boiled entrails devoured men, women and children. Groups of ignix spewed fire on a mother reaching out to protect her child in vain.

A Drake spotted them, spat a fireball the size of a house into the burning old-town square, liquifying the running pedestrians. Crow spread her cloak across them both and dashed into an alley, drawing her eastern sword and sashing her way through the enemy force... Knights tossing people into the flames while dancing and drinking and singing, Arthur shed tears as he froze in shock barely able to move with the smoke in his lungs and the horror in his eyes.

Crow grasped the boy, pulling him away as a Knight charged at her, sword raised. She slid around him, and flashed her blade in direct course of his head, the knight stood motionless, before falling to his knees, his head rolling on the floor.

Arthur saw such horrors, for hours and hours, He watched the innocent people, soldiers and other children, eaten, butchered and burned alive as Crow pulled him through the shadows as she fought off enemies and evaded the Dragons.

Explosions threw them off their feet, the heat burned the air as ash smattered the both of them. They had both sustained bad injuries, Arthur's arm had been badly burned, Crow's feathered cape was smouldering and a badly bleeding wound in her side, where an Ignix had snapped at her.

The Heat was becoming unbearable, the sky blazed red as Fire again filled the sky. Arthur looked back, through the burning buildings, and at the Draken gate stood that colossal Flaming dragon, whose screech filled the sky, forcing all to cover their ears in pain.

From the shoulder of the beast, where its great flaming wing ranched into it's huge fiery arms, a figure emerged and walked across it's flaming skin, completely unharmed.

Her eyes blazed red, mirrored by the flaming Red-eyed demon She stood on. "ARTHUR! KNOW YOU'RE OUT THERE, WE CAN SMELL YOU."

Black-Crow shrouded Arthur in her cloak, the two hiding behind a chapel, cracked in half down the middle. She coughed painfully and blood dripped from the beak of her mask. The boy clenched his teeth, the burns on his arms were light, but many, he shook and sobbed, the sound of the fire screaming in his ears, images of the screaming bodies burned alive branded on his mind, He needed to run, o-or she'd kill him, He was going to die.

Mordred screamed out into the burning city "ARTHUR, DON'T RUN FROM ME, YOU CANNOT RUN FROM ME!" She roared, her mighty dragon growling above as it scanned the city with its huge eyes.

Crow reached into her satchel hastily to dig around. The Dragons line of sight was massive and it was moving fast, she held fast and drew from her pack something small and covered in cloth, Arthur quivered as the growl above thickened, moulding into words that echoed in his mind and sent a sharp pain to burn between his eyes.

SHOW YOURSELF, CHILD OF THE STORM.

The boy dug his fingers into his scalp and with bloodshot eyes screamed at the top of his lungs "GET OUT OF MY HEAD!!!!!"

The eyes like twin suns flashed to the chapel, its gaze melting the stone as Mordred grinned "There you are--"

But it was too late, Crow had unveiled the small cylinder of obsidian in her hands and without a minute's hesitation, sparked it to life. and before the eyes of the dragon and Mordred, the stars began to bend and along with half the chapel, vanished with the crack of the whip of the goddess.

Mordred remained, wide-eyed and filled with otherworldly wrath, she and the great flaming dragon who had gifted her the city, roared into the ashen sky, amidst the burning wreckage that was once his home.

The Boy and The Crow immersed in freezing cold water, he had nearly drowned dragging her to the shore. He was numb and exhausted by the time he hit the icy shore, surrounded by icy pines, thick snow and raiding ships long on the horizon. Crow was stiff, but the cold had helped clot up her wound, He'd rifled through her satchel, managed to find a needle and thread and did his best to close her wound with his shaking hands, as He cried and grieved and mourned. Unaware of the long voyage and the Icy future that awaited him.