The blade was efficient and deadly when used as a dagger. It slipped almost seamlessly and terrifyingly easy into Sirius' flesh while the weapon drew blood from its rightful owner over and over with each strike. Hot gushes of the thick fluid splattered and stained the young boy's fur, matting it across his head and chest and neck. It was a familiar metallic scent, but it did little to quell the anger Seer had stirred up in his heart. Every blow dealt felt like it pulled directly from that fire, from the hatred at the sensation of uselessness he had been struggling with. This... this was power. This was liberation. This was what he had always been meant to do, what his mother had bred him to do. She would be proud if she could see the way her son was moving, attacking, using everything he had learned from her. But she never would. She would never see her little knight in action, because she was fucking dying alone in a dark cell.

The thoughts of Resin, isolated and fading away, the thoughts of Tamsyn, they hurt and the hurt burned. But it was Seer's total lack of reaction to his efforts that irritated him more than anything. He would not be useless. He would not be beaten! He barely heeded the Warlord's bellowed words—until he caught sight of a monstrous paw coming for his head. Artorias barely managed to duck Seer's blow, feeling the edges of feline claws rake against the top of his head while he moved beneath the enraged dire wolf, using his momentum to aim another stab of the knife up into the opposite shoulder join he had gone for before.

Black-furred ears pricked up on his head when Sirius declared what he had done to his mother. Horrific visions flashed in his head. He had been the one to do this to her after all. He had attacked her, had run her like a slave, pushed her weakened body to the point of breaking up and down Boreas while he did fuck all. Artorias was moving on autopilot, his eyes tracking Sirius' movements and strikes while the Warlord came at him like a bull seeing red, lashing out without any finesse or technique. It was easy enough for the boy to backpedal to avoid some of the attacks, but as Seer began to combine them, it became increasingly difficult. The force of a massive paw making contact with the side of his head nearly toppled the boy over, sending him staggering in the snow, but he did not go down. His teeth clenched harder around the knife, rearing back to avoid another swipe at him. Art said nothing while he moved and snarled, watching the way Seer moved and learning his timing.

And then Sirius told him how he nearly killed Briar.

Artorias froze on the spot, his heart stopping in his chest and his brain shutting down. He was so stunned by that declaration that he hadn't even attempted to move when Seer brought his paws back and swept Art to the side, sending the boy crashing to the snow. Briar. Sirius had nearly killed Briar? So many questions ran through his mind. What, why, how, when, where? Briar. His Briar. His closest friend, dead by her own father's paws. Artorias laid on the ground, staring blankly at the snow surrounding him while he heard Sirius coming closer, roaring to do something about it. Briar. She couldn't be die. It wasn't possible. It wasn't allowed. Sirius had tried to kill Briar. Sirius had almost killed Briar. No. No. No! It didn't matter the why, the when, the how... Sirius had almost killed Briar. He would pay for that.

Artorias lifted himself up to his paws, keeping his body low to the ground while he waited, listening as Seer's footfalls got closer, seeing him looming above the boy, getting ready to strike again in his rage. The timing... remember the timing... wait... wait... now! Artorias turned and brought the knife up with a vicious snarl, feeling the blade sink into flesh and get stuck. A quick glance told him he had intercepted Seer's attack with the knife, the blade driven almost entirely through his massive paw. Artorias locked violent glares with Sirius for a moment, a wildfire raging in those amber eyes, and then he ripped the knife from the Warlord's paw.

Artorias released his own roar of rage, rushing the bigger wolf and sinking the knife into his broad chest over and over and over again, losing count of how many times he had stabbed the Fatalis man. Each spray of blood made him think of Briar, her smile, her laugh, those turquoise eyes... all almost being stolen from him by this man. Had he made her bleed? Had he tried to choke her, suffocate her? What had he done to his Briar?! Again and again the knife went into Sirius, and each time, Artorias would snarl louder and louder, losing himself and all semblance of control. His Briar... gone. Stolen. Dead. NO! Rearing back, Artorias lunged at Sirius with all his anger propelling him forward, leaping toward him and sinking his claws into the Warlord's shoulders to pull himself up close enough to deliver one final strike. With a feral howl of anguish and wrath, Artorias brought the knife down into Sirius' neck, watching the blade sink straight through flesh and muscle in the side of his neck with no resistance at all. His final blow struck, Artorias curled his body up, placing hind legs on the Warlord's chest and kicking himself away from his opponent to tumble and roll across the ground, putting some safe space between them.

It took him a few moments of heavy breathing to realize that he was no longer holding a weapon. Slowly, slowly, Artorias began to regain control of his faculties, panting hard while he surveyed his surroundings. He saw the blood staining the snow in thick streaks. He felt it clinging to him, smelled it all over him. And then he looked up at Sirius and saw the knife still jutting from the side of his neck. Artorias' heart sank in his chest, gazing in horror at the small end of the knife almost pressed flush to Seer's skin. How deep had he stabbed him? Had he hit anything vital?! Oh gods, oh gods... what have I done...?! he panicked, looking around for Tamsyn desperately, but unable to form the words on his tongue to call for her help.



"Artorias" | Thoughts

At first it seemed okay. Sirius was provoking him, egging him on. That wasn't unusual for him. Had she not done the exact same thing to him while she was still beginning to process her own frustration and grief? Fight me. Fight me. Fight me. And then, suddenly, it began to shift, skewing far darker than it ever should have gone before she realized what was happening. She was already shifting uneasily when Sirius gave Artorias his blade. She had been okay with the wooden sword that Artorias trained with, but that wasn't enough for Sirius. He wanted the blade. She should have spoken up then, but she hadn't. Sirius could take a couple stabs of the smaller blade. His thick coat would absorb at least a portion of it anyway and she had seen him take far worse wounds without flenching. She had let it slide. That was a mistake.

The second that Artorias drew blood, Sirius shifted. She could see it in his face and her heart dropped into her stomach. All at once the Warlord came out swinging, swiping his heavy, deadly paws at her son's head, screaming about all the things he had done. Not being able to save them. Tearing skin from her shoulders. Making her carry the bodies back to the Armada. Those things she knew. Those things she wished he would stop thinking about, stop finding guilt in. But the last thing... The last thing she hadn't known.

Nearly killing Briar.

She had already gotten to her paws and was taking steps toward the fighting wolves when she heard Sirius rage about what he had done, demanding that Artorias do something about it, swinging and knocking her son to the ground. She froze, taking in that information, processing it. Briar? His daughter? How? When? It all flitted through her mind, none of it fully registering. Her gaze had been fixed on Sirius so she didn't see Artorias getting up, she didn't see him readying the blade with pure rage in his eyes. By the time she noticed it was too late.

She watched in horror as Artorias blocked Sirius' blow with the blade, watching as it nearly stabbed though his paw. That wretched helplessness she had felt the night that she had been forced to trap Resin in their room crept up on her, strangling any cries she tried to make. She tried to yell anything to make them stop, but it all died in her throat. She knew what Sirius was doing, knew what he wanted. She couldn't let him have it. She couldn't let him take himself from her, from them. She wouldn't allow him to put his life on her son's conscious. She refused.

Tamsyn ran toward them, ignoring the sharp pains from her feet and shoulder as she ran, bolting across the empty space between them just as Artorias reared up with one more savage strike, bringing the blade down toward his neck. "Artorias!" she screamed, but it was too late. She was always too late. The blade sank into Sirius' neck, lodging there, as Artorias bounced off of the Warlord's body and landed a short distance away. No no no no no. She raced to Sirius' side, immediately putting her paws on the side of his neck around the blade, keeping it from moving or going any deeper. And keeping Sirius' fucking paws from touching it.

"How fucking dare you!" She demanded, yelling at the stupid Fatalis man and putting her weight on Sirius' shoulder, pinning him to the ground, holding down his neck so he couldn't hurt himself any more while she evaluated the blade stuck in his skin. "I'm not going to let you fucking kill yourself, I don't care how badly you want to die. And I'm especially not going to let you use my son to do it!" The blade hadn't sunk all the way in, lodged at an angle into the fatty tissue of his neck, blocked slightly by his thick fur. She still didn't feel comfortable removing it without a healer on stand by to stop the bleeding, but it wasn't life threatening.

A sob caught in her throat and she glared hard at Sirius, bringing a paw hit him hard across his cheek. She was sure it would barely feel like a punch to someone like him and that almost made her more mad. At some point tears started streaming down her cheeks, but she didn't know when. "You fucking stupid, hard headed, idiot... Stop trying to leave me. I'm not going to let you."

"Tamsyn" | "Blue"

I've been walkin' through a world gone blind

He wasn’t fighting to defend himself, he was fighting to enrage the wolf he fought. His blows, aimed at the side of Art’s head, to smack the boy around well his rage built higher and higher. He told his godson what he had, to his mother, to his daughter. How he had failed to protect those he loved. Failure he would die a failure, but they would be safe. Asla would lead the Armada, and one day Art would lead the Hallows. He was strong enough to do anything he needed to to protect those under him.

He would be with Zee again. He hadn’t walked into this fight wishing death. He had intended it to be a heart-to-heart between men. Hit it out, and be good. The rage and fear and sorrow inside of both of them had different plans. Given an outlet, they couldn’t stop. He had just enough left in him to keep himself from doing irreparable harm to his Godson, but there was not enough sanity for anything else.

At first, he felt each stab like a hot white fire in his skin, but as they continued on he became numb to the pain. Perhaps it was the bloodloss, he was leaking from so many places, he had lost count. Soaking the courtyard with his blood, as he lumbered after Artorias. His heavy steps and the adrenaline coursing through him only causing him to bleed out faster.

Oh, but he felt the stab through his pad. He roared, vision blurring from anger and pain. Oh, it had been a long, long time since someone had caused him such physical pain.

He had pushed Art over the edge. The next strike was true. The Warlord smiled. Sirius, with a smile on his maw, closed his eyes at the final, devastating blow from the knife struck deep into his neck. He couldn’t breath, there was only the smallest amount left now in his lungs. He used it in a hoarse whisper, blood on his lips “Thank you” he gasped to Art, and then tumbled head first into the snow
Dead

He blacked out, and when he came to, the world had shifted. But it was only a slight change, telling him it must have been only seconds. Tamsyn was leaning on him, the weight of pushing blood from his numerous wounds. Her paw hitting his cheek. Staining her dark coat. He could barely breathe, but there was just a whisper of it getting past the knife that pinched his skin and narrowed his airflow. He couldn’t feel his body, was he dying?

Tamsyn’s tear soaked words seemed to think not. She wasn’t going to let him go. He was delirious. He tried to bring a paw around to touch her cheek. He wanted to say he was sorry, sorry that he was too weak to hold on. Instead, what came out in the nearest, briefest whisper was “I love you too” and then his head sagged, hitting the ground.


"Speech"

Artorias felt like he was walking through a dream. Time seemed to lag like thick honey running down a dipper, creeping by in a haze. He had heard Sirius' roar of pain, but then there were no other sounds from the Warlord. He stared at the bleeding wolf, praying, begging for him to give some sort of reaction. Seer was staring—and then he smiled. Blood ran cold in his veins while he watched as the man croaked out a breathless thanks, and then he wobbled and toppled forward into the snow. Horror contorted Art's expression and fear gripped his soul, keeping him paralyzed in place no matter how much his head and his heart were screaming at him to go help. The fight was over and now they had to tend to Sirius. Tamsyn's screams for him fell on deaf ears; Art didn't even register her presence until her dark form had pounced on top of Seer's collapsed body, keeping him from moving for the knife while yelling words he couldn't make out at him. His ears were ringing and his head spun like he were on a merry-go-round. What had he done? Had he killed the Warlord?

Then Sirius moved, only barely, and looked up at his mother. Alive, he was still alive! All at once, Artorias snapped back to action, hurrying over to the two adults while howling in a frenzy over and over for all healers he could get to come urgently. He refused to be the reason Seer died. He had given in to his anger, let it overtake him, and look what it had done. Artorias choked on the shame and the smell of blood suffocating his nose. He had to help Tam keep him alive. "The healers are coming! Hang on!" he said, his voice shaking with fright along with his paws while he pressed them to two of the wounds on his chest to stem the blood loss. He looked over the damage he had done shocked and alarmed at what he had been able to do with just a small knife. "What can I do? How can I help? Gods, please... Sirius, I- I'm so sorry! I shouldn't have... I'm sorry!"


"Artorias" | Thoughts | "Corbin"

One big happy family

Artorias has two ravens named Corbin and Eira and a fox named Argent. Assume they are within calling distance at all times.
As his mate, Briar may enter Artorias' threads unless marked Private.
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