Torchwood: Fanfic: Under siege

[m_findlow]

Title: Under siege 
Fandom: Torchwood
Characters: Ianto, Jack, Tosh, Owen 
Author: m_findlow 
Rating: PG
Length: 2,482 words 
Content notes: Warnings for semi-crackiness.
Author notes: Written for badly_knitted's prompt "Any, any, Castle battlements" at fic_promptly 
Summary: Ianto finds himself preparing for battle

It had to be a dream. There were no two ways about it. This couldn't possibly be real. 

Ianto looked around in confusion, trying to place where he was. It looked a bit like Cardiff Castle, but less decrepit, all of the stones rigid and precise, not the weather worn blocks he was accustomed to. He was on the top of one of the battlements, staring down at the scene below him. It couldn't be Cardiff. There were no landmarks he could recognise. No Bute Park, no Swalec Stadium, no city skyline off in the middle distance. Nothing, just hills and grass and a river than ran alongside the castle, which could have been the Taff if he used his imagination. The far distance was harder to make out, given that it was night time. Perhaps that was water off in the distance, some foreign shore, but there was no way to know for certain. Perhaps his mind had just used details of the castle from his memory to generate the scene. 

He looked down again, noticing something else not too far off in the distance. He squinted. Was that people? An army of some kind it seemed, making out the tiny lights of torches, and perhaps those other taller objects were horses. 

He edged up the the very precipice of the opposite battlements and leaned forward, trying to get a better look at the scene below him. There were a considerable number of people within the bailey itself, all busily hurrying around. Despite the darkness, they all looked to be wearing hauberks and mail, pulling wagons and ferrying the crowds inside the main castle walls themselves. 

Distracted by the view below, he didn't hear the boots that crunched the stone beneath, approaching him from behind. It wasn't until he felt the cold steel against the side of his neck that he froze, finally aware that he wasn't alone. 

'I shall cut you to ribbons if I think you a spy,' came the voice. Jack's voice. 

He allowed Ianto to slowly turn, keeping his blade carefully trained at head level. It was a hard task to keep himself still when he caught sight of Jack. He was hardly recognisable, dressed from head to toe in royal finery, tall leather boots that reached his knees, plate armour across his chest that glinted in the moonlight, and a long cloak lined with fine blue silk, and trimmed with delicate fur. 

'Jack, what on earth are you wearing?' 

'You'll address me as Your Highness, or at the very least, My Lord,' he boomed. 

Ianto tried not to dissolve into hysterics and laughter. 'What on earth are you wearing, Your Highness?' 

'A court jester I see,' Jack tutted. 'But at least not a spy judging by the common lilt of your tongue.' Jack lowered his sword and slid it back into its scabbard, hanging from his hip on an intricate leather belt. 

'Where is your bow and quiver, nave? The army is almost upon us and you are stood there in nought but your Sunday clothes!'

'Army?' Ianto raised an eyebrow at him. 

'Those English blaggards, of course! Too cowardly to strike in the light of day, but they shall taste our steel and our resolve no matter.'

A young boy flew along the top of the castle, falling into darkness at the alternating shadows cast by the crenellations. He dropped to a knee in front of Jack before whispering a message to him. Jack's expression grew serious. 

Ianto found it all a bit bizarre. Was he dreaming or had he been sucked into some sort of alternate reality by the rift? Either way, he seemed destined to play out whatever role he'd been landed with. 

'Well, don't just stand there! Your King commands you to bear arms. Sir Harper has reported that they approach from the north, less than two leagues away.'

Before he could say more, an arrow whipped past both of their heads and a man dressed in all back was felled not five yards from them. Jack's head spun at the altercation, searching for the assailant. A tall elegant woman in a long violet gown, stood at the top of the tower, gloved hands, her bow barely lowered, but enough for Ianto to make out the face and recognise it as Toshiko. 

'Brigands and spies!' Jack cursed. 'I told you they were afoot.' 

'It's as you say my Lord,' she agreed, walking up to join them. 'They will not rest until they have your blood and your lands.' 

'Then we shall teach those English usurpers that they shall not temper the dragon's flames. I owe you my life, good lady. This is the Lady Sato,' Jack introduced. 'Her mind is as keen as her eye. You'll not find a better archer this side of the dyke. Nor the other side, I daresay.'

Ianto took her hand and kissed it. Well, when in Rome, he thought. 

'We've no more time to waste. Are you a swordsman or a archer, young man?' 

Ianto was taken aback. The answer was neither. Torchwood had given him plenty of training on firearms and hand to hand combat, but swords and arrows? Some part of his brain decided that he'd have better luck with a bow. 

'See that the young man is armed from our stores,' he instructed the messenger boy. 'You shall remain here as part of my personal guard. However you came to be here, consider it fate that you should join my service.'

'As my Lord commands,' Ianto replied. He tried desperately to keep his expression neutral despite up the insanity of it all. 

Jack gave him a look and frowned. 'You think me a fool, parading up here for all to see? You think I should hunker down in my throne room and send out soldiers to die for me?'

'I think ego is a dull blade to wield,' he answered. 

Jack glared at him for several moments before bursting into laughter. 'I see your wit is a sharp as your arrows. I am a pompous fool, I admit, but one who would die rather than let them take our lands.'

The young boy returned shortly after, handing Ianto a leather jerkin and a long chain mail suit that was more like a dress. Toshiko watched him curiously from the corner of her eye as he fumbled with the items. 

'Have you not fought in battle before?' she asked, holding her bow lazily in the crook of her arm. 

'Not from atop a castle, my lady,' he replied. 'I think this mail is too long for me.' 

She laughed. 'Only if you would prefer an arrow through your leg.' 

'Fair point,' he said, pulling the leather over the top. 

Jack appeared from one end of the turret, wielding a mighty sword. 'I know you said you were an archer, but I would feel better if you also had a sword, lest they should scale the walls.'

Scale the walls? Bloody hell, he thought. What had he gotten himself into? 

Jack reached around him, tightening the belt around his torso, the weight of the sword heavy at his side. If he'd been a hundred and fifty pounds before, he must've weighed twice that now. 

'A good fit,' Jack said, breathing close to his neck as he fastened the buckle. 'How does it feel?' 

'Good,' he found himself saying, a little breathless from being so close to Jack. He smelled just the same as always. It was all he could do not to close the gap and kiss him. Fortunately, the sound of booming drums made him pull away. Probably not a good idea for him to kiss the King. 

Jack turned and leaned out over the battlements, staring into the glittering blackness. 'And so it begins,' he muttered. 

The drumming continued for what felt like an eternity as the forces marched ever closer to the gates. Ianto could scarcely make out the line of the king's own men, those on horse and those with pike and spear, forming a barrier between the oncoming enemy and the castle wall. 

It made his stomach twist in knots, waiting for what must eventually come. When it did, it took him even more by surprise, the first heavy shaft whistling past his head, missing him by mere inches. A second whistled past, but this time it was flying in the opposite direction, Toshiko having loosed her own in retaliation. 

Then it began. Down below he could hear the clash of swords, the whinnying of horses and the screams of men, and all the while the drums kept beating. 

Several more archers were positioned between the crenelations, awaiting the command to fire. Feeling rather like a third wheel, he reluctantly took up his bow, nocking and arrow. A hand rested on his shoulder. 

'Don't pull back until you're ready to fire,' Toshiko told him. 'Save your strength.' He did as she said, joining the line of archers. 

Jack surveyed the scene below, watching as the first line of defenders broke away, letting their counterparts break the line. 

'Draw!' came the command, and every archer dipped his arrow in the brazier, lighting its point, then drew back, aiming high. 

'Loose!' he yelled, as a dozen bows simultaneously thrummed, sending fiery arrows into the field of men, setting them alight. 

Three more rounds of flaming arrows sent their army into disarray, but no sooner had they scattered, then grappling hooks came flying up at them, attempting to latch onto the top of the wall. Jack unleashed his own sword and thrust down hard, cutting one loose. 

'Stop them!' 

Ianto nocked another arrow and leaned down over the edge, praying he didn't send himself over the edge as he shot. The first arrow missed completely, but the second found its mark, sending the climber to his death. 

As the first climbers mounted the wall, forcing their way over the top, they were cut down by the lighting quick arrows from Toshiko's bow. As arrows flew, Ianto watched Jack moving up and down the length of the wall, issuing commands, rallying his forces. Behind him, another climber made it over the wall, dagger in hand. Without thinking, Ianto drew and fired, knocking the man from the wall, tumbling the thirty feet to the ground. 

Jack spun to see which of his men had fired. 

'A jolly good shot young man! What did you say your name was?' 

'Ianto Jones,' he replied, still stunned by his own good fortune. 'Of Caerdydd.' 

'Well, you are herein Sir Jones of Caerdydd. I've just decided to knight you.' 

'Thank you, sir,' he replied, suddenly drunk on adrenaline and the heat of battle. 

'Sir?' 

'My Lord,' he corrected himself. 

After a few more minutes, the climbers gave up their efforts, either for a lack of men or a lack of rope, leaving the battle to be fought out on the hills below. It was hard to tell who was winning. 

'Somebody find Sir Harper!' Jack barked, sword still in his hand. Ianto drew his own, just in case, finding it ridiculously heavy in his hand. He doubted he could lift it let alone wield it. 

It was a good ten minutes later as Owen struggled up to the parapet, his armor and sword coated in blood and filth, though looking rather less exhausted than Ianto expected. 

'What news?' Jack asked. 

'We are holding them, but just barely, Sire. They must be a thousand strong, but they've brought trolls to try and break down our walls.'

'Hold them back at all costs. Kill their trolls before they reach the gates.'

Owen bowed and left. 

Jack turned to Ianto, his face grim. 'It is time for us to join the battle below. Are you ready?' 

Ianto swallowed hard. He wasn't ready for any of this, but he said yes all the same. 

'My lady, hold the wall for us.' 

'Yes, Sire,' Toshiko replied, pulling another arrow from her quiver. 

Ianto followed Jack down the spiral stairs of the tower and out into the courtyard, which had been all but abandoned. All those who couldn't fight, women and children, had been hidden away below the great keep, to wait out the battle, however it might end. At the gates, men rallied to fend off their foes who were trying to break down the gate with a huge battering ram. 

'That gate won't hold,' Ianto said, fearing the worst, watching as the timber and iron shuddered with each impact. 

'Yes, but they don't know about our secret weapon. Unleash the dragon!' Jack cried loudly 

Dragon? Dear God. In Wales he supposed it should have been obvious, but it still remained to see seen. 

A heavy drawbridge was lowered from one of the battlements overhead. It wasn't a dragon that shot out into the heavens, but rather a fierce looking pteranadon, three times the size of Myfanwy. Of course, Ianto thought, because that made a lot more sense. 

Myfanwy glided over the warring masses, knocking several off their mounts before they regained their senses and started hauling spears and arrows in her general direction. She was too quick for them though, flying well out of reach, the smallest of their arrows bouncing effortlessly off her thick skin. When she was dive bombing them, she was spewing a rain of fire down on them, leaving them wailing and screaming, beating a hasty retreat. 

Pity the fools, Ianto thought, forgetting himself for a moment and being sucked into the fantasy, and watching as she dove once again, parting the ranks with her low pass, sharp beak and fire daring them to get in her way. 

Jack grinned and laughed out loud as she cut through their ragged formations. 'Ha! Open the gates and let us show them who they've come to fight! We will have a great feast once this night is over.' He flashed a smile at Ianto. 'Ready to kill some English?'

He led his sword aloft, suddenly lighter in his hand, grinning stupidly. 'Ready, Your Highness.'

'Hail Cymru!' Jack yelled. 

'Hail Cymru!' Ianto replied.

And so they ran forth into battle.

'Ianto,' came the voice, and the gentle shaking of his upper body.

'Go away, your highness. Can't you see I'm busy dealing with the trolls?' he muttered, before waking up properly and realising what he'd said. 

'Your Highness? I could get used to that,' Jack chuckled, enjoying the way the Welsh vowels wrapped around the affectation. 

Ianto groaned. 'Not you; the other you.' 

'Other me?' 

'I had a dream that you were the king of Cardiff, and that we were being invaded by English Marcher lords. Only now I'll never know if we won.'

Jack looked at his lover and thought him peculiar but endlessly endearing. 

'That's the last time I let you have macaroni cheese and watch Game of Thrones before bed.' 

Comments

[bk_forever]

*giggles* What a delight!

Very dramatic, I bet the trolls looked a lot like huge Weevils, and of course the Welsh would have won in the end. How could they fail? Ianto has very interesting dreams.