2 Chapter 2

Pov Artoria pendragon

Artoria was in the lead of her war band, four hundred men strong. They came to fight but found only ruin.

"Spread out! Search for survivors!" She yelled as she took off towards the back of the city where her comrades might have fled. She took one hundred of her men with her and left the other three hundred to search the rest of the city

As she rode her horse through the ruins, she saw the blood and gore from the battle. No one was safe from the United forces of "The Warlord." her forces killed everyone. Women, children, old, young. It didn't matter to her. As long as she sewed discord and malice wherever she went, she was happy.

Riding through the smoldering buildings, they came across the storage silos, where the food was kept. All burnt. Not looted, burnt. The invaders burned everything. They wanted nothing except to kill. As Artoria mounted her horse, she once again rode off with a heavy heart. "I'll kill her!" She promised herself.

They finally found their way to the passage way to the forest, and as their large group came to a clearing in the forest, they heard a distraught voice. "Show yourselves, you Bastards! Come to finish what you started? I'll be damned if I-" the voice suddenly stopped as Lancelot laid eyes on Artoria and her warriors. He was sitting with his back to a tree, an armored body with long golden hair in one arm, and his sword in the other, though he was holding it awkwardly, unable to use its full length.

"Artoria?" Lancelot said, seeing his Lord

"Lancelot!" Artoria said, leaping from her horse, as she saw one of her knight of the round table. She ran over and fell to her knees in front of them and with an anguished cry pulled Godricks body from Lancelots grasp.

"No, Godrick!" She wailed, seeing him. Tears streamed down her face as she cradled the body to herself.

After a while, Artoria turned to her men, who had somber faces. They all loved Godrick, He was younger they they all were, but none could match his physical strength.

"Grab a stretcher! We carry the dead back to the capital!" She yelled

Turning her face back to her "son's" cold body, she saw the spear still impaled in his chest. She touched it but withdrew her hand as she saw something. His blood. It was faint, but she could still see it pumping. She put her ear to his breastplate - *bump, bump*

A heartbeat. It was faint, but it was still there. "Medic!" She screamed.

A man came running over, slipping in the mud as he came to a stop in front of the trio. He looked the body over, opening one of Godricks eyes to examine it.

"We need to remove the armor without removing the spear." He said in a hurry as he pulled a knife out and began to cut at the straps holding Godricks armor together. As the armor and clothing underneath was removed, it revealed Godricks muscular chest and arms, covered in scars, telling of his hard life. There was a scar larger than the rest on his throat, courtesy of The Warlord herself.

The spear stood from his chest, still leaking blood, giving testament of his hold on life.

"Build me a fire!" The Medic yelled at a couple of the soldiers. Without question, they went about grabbing wood and lit a fire, which was difficult due to the heavy rains. The Medic grabbed one of the spears from a soldier and compared it with the one in Godricks chest.

"Seems to be the same." He said as he snapped the head off the shaft and put the spearhead in the fire.

As Artoria held her son's body, she observed the spear. A runic spear.

She looked at the runes on the spear.

Sharpness, pain, and unbreaking.

A spear that is extremely sharp that could peirce through armor, cause excruciating pain, and is unbreakable… she began to look around with her son still in her arms, and saw a broken warhammer with the runes of strength, and unbreaking. Giving the weilder superhuman strength and making the weapon "unbreakable." She saw the sword in the large knights chest. Runes of sharpness and unbreaking.

Not far from the body was an ax with the runes of sharpness and strength.

How much strength would be needed to break a weapon with a rune of unbreaking?

"My King, we are ready to pull the spear out." The Medic said. Artoria looked back at the Medic, then to her son

"What do you need me to do?" She asked "put pressure here" the Medic said as he gestured to the area around the chest "and once It is pulled out, I need you to open the wound so I can safely cauterize it." He said as he pulled the now white hot spearhead from the fire."You!" He said, looking at Lancelot. "Do you have steady hands?" The Medic asked. Lancelot nodded, and the Medic gave a grunt of acceptance.

"You need to remove the spear, as fast and a gently as you can. You can not move it much, for fear of hitting something on the way out, do you understand me?" The medic asked Lancelot, to which he nodded and looked to Artoria.

"We are ready." He said as Artoria removed her gloves and held Godricks chest.

The medic nodded at Lancelot, and he carefully removed the spear that caused blood to pour out, but which was diluted due to the rain. Artoria opened the wound for what was to come next, as the Medic took the white hot spearhead and pushed it into the wound as soon as Lancelot had removed the other

Godrick gave a jolt of pain, but the medic continued until he was sure the wound had been seared completely. As he removed the spear, some flesh that had melted to it also came with it, making Artoria and Lancelot grimace at the sight. He then put the spearhead back into the fire and did the same process with Godricks hand and shoulder.

"That is all I can do for now, your majesty, we need to get him to you sister, as fast as we can."

The Medic called for several warriors to come carry Godrick and Lancelot. Lancelot gave a shout of pain as they lifted him into a wagon. Artoria helped her soldiers with her son's body and even yelled at them when she felt they were being too rough with him. She then looked over the rest of the body's and commanded that her allies body's be recovered, while the others were buried. She recognized the faces of the ones that had hurt her son so badly. They were part of the Warlords' personal head hunters. An elite group of warriors that specialize in taking down high-ranking enemy soldiers. Every one of the head hunters could match one of her knights of the round table, and Godrick, from what Lancelot had told her, had fought all 4 and won. Though at a cost.

As Artoria rode behind the wagon that held her son's broken body, she watched as his chest moved up and down. She looked at the Medic, who was still tending to Godrick, as he bandaged what he could in preparation for her sister Morgan. Morgan was a cold woman, but she held some warmth towards Godrick and would no doubt use some of her strange magic to heal him some.

As the capital came into view, Artoria sent a runner to inform them what had happened and to call Morgan from one of her many towers that rose from the white marble castle.

They finally entered the city and made their way to the large castle in the center. The horses hoves ringing on the cobblestone roads. Morgan met them halfway there, as she made her way through the soldiers. She neared the wagon that carried her nephew, betraying no emotion. She wore her blue and white robes and held her staff, which she used to help push herself up into the card he was in.

As she looked at his wounds, Artoria saw her lips tremble.

"Who did this?" She said in a cold tone

"The Warlords headhunters." Artoria replied.

Morgan gave a snarle, as lightning ripped through the skies, Artoria did not know if it was simply the weather or her sister's anger.

"You killed them, right?" She snapped at Artoria.

"Godrick killed them before he fell."

"He is much loved by the gods. I've always told you that. This -" She gestured to the wound in Godricks chest " - would have killed any other person." She finished.

"Can you help him?" Artoria asked."Why?" Morgan retorted, which shocked Artoria

"He is blessed by the Gods. Who am I to interfere in their affairs?" She continued. "Let me dress his wounds, then he will need to rest for a while."

Pov Godrick

As Godrick opened his eyes, he felt nothing but pain. As he looked around, he saw he was in his aunt's chambers. He tried to sit up but a sturn voice stopped him

"Godrick. Lay back down. You've been through a lot these last couple of weeks. "

He looked over and met the pale blue eyes of his aunt.

He spoke no words because he physically couldn't, but she understood

"After you killed the headhunters you collapsed, your mother found you, and a Medic was able to cauterize your wound. After that, you were brought here, where we have been taken care of you since."

As Godrick lay there with a dazed and confused look of his face, a frustrated expression made its way on Morgans face. "I wish I knew what you were thinking. It would make communication so much simpler. Danm the Warlord for what she took from you."

As she looked at him with a gentler gaze, she sat on his bed and said, "I miss hearing you speak. I remember when you would be caught running through the halls dragging a sword twice your size, knocking everything over. You would take the blame for your sister." As she spoke, a ghost of a smile made its way to Godricks lips

As if sensing his unasked question, she answered

"No. She has not returned."

His astranged sister Mordred had a falling out with their mother after she was refused the throne. After a battle where the Warlord had showed up herself, Mordred had defected to the Warlords side. In an attempt to stop his sister, Godrick had fought his way to where they were. He found his sister, the Warlord, and a war party of at least 500 men. Godrick had challenged the Warlord to single combat in an effort to bring his sister back. The Warlord accepted immediately and met him between the two armies.

Godrick could see the fear in his sisters eyes as the Warlord approached him. She feared for her brothers life, but not enough to leave the Warlord. As he and the Warlord fought, it was clear he was out matched. The fight ended as the Warlord slashed his right side, cutting deep into his flesh. He gave a yelp of pain that was cut short as she drove the tip of her sword into his throat. It didn't cut very deep, but the damage was done.

As he fell the one knee, he brought a hand up to his throat. Blood poured out as he looked at his sister, who looked at him with an emotionless face, though tears ran down her checks.

As he knelt in the dirt, the Warlord ripped his helmet off his head and grabbed his face, digging her taloned fingers into his cheeks. She looked at him, and with scorn in her voice, said, "You are nothing but a boy." Releasing him, she kicked him in the chest, sending him to the ground, and walked away, taking his sister with her.

He hasn't seen Mordred since, though he hopes that one day she will see reason and return home. He focused on Morgan again as she began to examine his body.

"You've been out for about a month. The wound in your chest was deep, so it will take at least another year for you to be in top shape again. Though I recommend you wait at least 2 before joining the war again. But knowing you, you will ignore my advice. You would think the Warlord had taken you hearing instead of your voice. Foolish boy." She said as she gripped his face, much as the Warlord had, but much more tenderly.

"Your mother's Court is holding a meeting in two days. I suggest you attend, she could use your presence. She doesn't know you are awake, so this might be a good surprise for her. It also might throw the nobles off and put things in her favor. Much has changed since you have been asleep. Your master Lancelot has been banned from battle, and instead, it has been on the war council planning all activities. Things have been going extremely well since his takeover." She mused. Standing from the bed, she brought Godrick food and drink. His eyes widened as he saw the pitcher of water, and he immediately grabbed it. He brought it to his mouth and began to drink. As Morgan watched him, she couldn't help but give a chuckle

The next day, he was able to stand by himself but was still feeling a bit dizzy. On the day of the court, he could walk but only slowly. As Morgan helped him dress, he refused to wear any court appropriate attire, as they all hurt his chest and made it hard to breathe. He settled on a normal loose tunic. He then wore a new pair of leg armor and greaves that his master Lancelot had forged for him.

It consisted of leather pants with a thick slab of metal wrapped around each thigh, accompanied by a pair of steel boots that came to his knees, with diamond shape knee guards The rest of the armor was just as magnificent. The shoulder pauldrons were thicker than his last, so no blade could pierce them. His breastplate was gold and white, with blue gems placed throughout. It also had a waistband with a large blue gem embedded in it. The gauntlets also had large blue diamond shape gems.

The helmet had a round-ish shape to it that came to a point where his nose would be.

All these gems seemed to smoke with power, as whisps of blue came off them. Godrick looked at Morgan with a raised eyebrow

"That's a little something from me. You'll find out what they do when you are able to wear the full set." She said with a smile

Image here

He didn't wear anything above the waist save his shirt for fear of irritating his wounds.

As he slowly made his way to the throne room, Morgan by his side, helping him walk. She couldn't do much due to their size difference, but she could at least support him.

As they stood at the doors of the throne room, she left Godricks.

"You must stand on your own, for your mother's sake." She said

As Godrick steadied his breathing, he nodded at her, standing tall he placed his hands on the two doors and, with a push, opened them.

Pov Artoria

'Shut up! Will you ever stop talking? I know all of this.' she thought to herself. Her count nobles were arguing on what to do. Since Lancelot had begun to take over battle plans, they had won many battles. The only problem with this was that Lancelot was a blunt man. He didn't care for the flattery, the roundabout way nobles like to do things. He had come in and spat directly into the face of the nobility with his bluntness. The nobility felt insulted that he didn't flatter them or give them the respect they demanded. He simply called them fools and began taking charge. They hated it.

"We should retreat!" One Nobel said."We can not win a battle where the Warlord herself is involved!"

"Madness!" Another said,"we must push our advantage. "

"You're all fools!" Lancelot said in a booming voice. He could no longer walk, so he had a chair with wheels built so he could get around

"We will neither retreat nor push our advantage! We have the Warlord on the run. We have only to wait until she makes a mistake we can exploit!" He shouted

"How dare you!" A plump noble screamed."We have been fighting this war just like you, and you dare insult us!" He said as he tried to stand.

"And look where you got us. We were losing this war because of you!" Lancelot said

"You da-"

"Sit down, you fat bastard!" Lancelot interrupted the noble.

The noble was a greasy man with a small mustache. His cheeks quivered as he shook with anger. He had never been insulted like this before. He demanded respect, and those that refused to give it to him usually ended up dead, or worse, missing.

Unable to support his own weight anymore, he collapsed back into his seat.

'I'll make him pay for that. I'll be sure to tell the Warlord of this in my next report!' He thought to himself.

As Artoria sat on her throne draped in shadows, she couldn't help but sigh. Every meeting went like this. She knew some of the nobles were in the Warlords pay. She knew some of them were giving her false reports while turning and selling the real information to the Warlord and her headhunters. She had had enough.

"Enough!" She shouted

The room went silent.

"Forgive me, my 'King.'" said the fat noble. Artorias eye twitched when he called her "King". Her father couldn't stand that he had no son as an heir. To correct this "great mistake," he had raised Artoria to be a boy and had denied the things she needed. And thus, Uther Pendragon had made her his "son." But it didn't quite work out as he had expected. The nobles were also upset at not having a proper heir, so in an effort to get back at her, they began to call her "King" instead. They said it was to honor her, but it got to the point where they even demanded that her children refer to her as father, instead of mother. It didn't work until she had a falling out with her daughter, and then Mordred started referring to her as father

As things were about to get back on track, the doors suddenly opened, and Godrick "Pendragon," adopted son of Artoria Pendragon, walked in.