Sir Not Staying At Home

Elyan lies in bed, staring up at the ceiling. The covers are drawn up to his neck, fingers twisted in the sheets. His chambers are dark, the candle having burned out an hour before from the draught from the open window.

He has apologised to Arthur, sincerely and desperately, but he cannot help the events playing through his head. The terror of seeing the child, the mindlessness of needing to kill his king, his friend striking him down...

He doesn't remember much, except how he backed away in the armoury, only to end up back in his room, losing his grip on reality. But his face stung and he remembered Gwaine's fist...

Now he cannot sleep, mind haunted by the dark and his ears straining for the sound of dripping water. The shadows are dark, like jagged rocks. Did it move? Elyan sits up, clutching at the covers, watching the shadows.

The curtain blows in. Elyan screams.