He That Told It Later
Title: He That Told It Later
Author: Snowy
Characters/Pairings: Gareth, Lynet, Lyonors, Gaheris
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: You know the drill.
Summary: After his quest, Gareth is rewarded with a wife.
Notes: It was finals week. So I procrastinated. Which is to say, apologies for any nonsensicality. Title from Tennyson's "Gareth and Lynette."
It made her laugh, to see the way he got so shy as soon as his bigger, louder brothers were around. She teased him for it, and naturally they all joined in, and soon he was blushing to the ears and scuffing his feet in the dirt, looking not the victorious knight, but the kitchen page once more.
“I hope you will not be this bashful from now on,” she said to him that night, when the fire had died low and his brothers had drifted off to sleep.
“Not once we are wed,” he said, twining his fingers with hers.
“You have not mentioned it to your brothers yet, I note,” she said, pulling her hand away.
“That is because the choice is not theirs. It is for the King to say-but he will agree, I know he will,” he added quickly, reaching for her hand again, which she again snatched out of reach. “My lady! Truly, he will. I will beg him on my knees, if I must. We will be wed. I swear it.”
She fixed him with a skeptical frown, but offered her hand.
“Very well. As you are a gentleman and a knight, Sir Gareth, I will believe you. I trust you shall not be forsworn.”
He seized her hand eagerly and brought it to his lips.
“Not in a thousand years, my lady.”
When they arrived at court, the whole party was sent at once to an audience with the King. They all knelt before him: she and her sister, Gareth and his brothers. The King smiled-he had a kindly face, kinder than she remembered it being-and bid them rise. He rose himself, and stepped down from his chair to look at them.
“I guessed from the first you were more than you seemed,” he said to Gareth, who blushed. “I would gladly have been spared the frantic envoys from your mother… but I am pleased to have so fine a new knight at my service.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Gareth said, bowing deeply. And she, who had heard often the tone he adopted when offering false courtesies, knew that this time he meant it.
“But I think I can offer you a greater reward than my gratitude, can I not? Indeed, I think I may see two of my nephews wed,” the King said, casting a glance towards one of Gareth’s brothers. The King was, she thought, as perceptive as Gareth had said-even in so short a time, he had seen the glances Gaheris and her sister had been exchanging. She looked to Gareth, and he smiled.
“I would like that of all things, my lord,” he said. The King smiled, too.
“I am glad. Then let it be known! Ladies, your hands, if you please.” She and her sister at once obeyed, rising and placing their hands into the outstretched ones of the King. “In one week’s time, we will celebrate two marriages-that of my nephew Sir Gareth to the Lady Lyonors, and that of Sir Gaheris to Lady Lynet.”
Lynet felt a thread of ice shoot into her heart, and as the King placed her hand into Gaheris’s, she shot a desperate glance at Gareth. He was not looking, though-he was staring, dumbfounded, at her sister’s small hand, resting in his.
She was Lady Lynet, sometimes called Maldisant, known through her lands for her sharp mind and tongue. She should speak up, correct the King’s error, tell him of the way she and Gareth had walked side by side to her sister’s rescue and neither could remember precisely when their hands had first brushed, their eyes had first met, when he had first cupped her cheek in the palm of his big, white hand and stammered a blushing confession of love. She should-but could not.
She looked to Gareth again. He looked like a bewildered little boy, a lost kitchen page-the way he had when his brothers had teased him. And she knew he would not protest.
It was Lyonors, ever pretty and polite, who first found her tongue.
“My sister and I thank you, your majesty,” she said, lowering her eyes and bobbing into a curtsey. Gareth seemed to realize then that the King’s eyes were on him, that he was expected to speak. He looked at last to Lynet, who met his eyes for an instant, then turned her head away. She stared at her hand, loosely clasped in that of Gareth’s brother.
She could not bring herself to raise her eyes as Gareth cleared his throat and said, “Yes. Yes, uncle. I thank you.”
When they were swept from the room in a jumble of well-wishes and greetings, Lynet found herself pressed close to Gareth, who used the crush of people to hide the way he took Lynet’s hand in his. She snatched it away.
“I’m sorry-I’m so sorry-I’ll speak to him, I’ll find a way,” he said breathlessly.
“No,” she said, not bothering to lower her voice. “No, indeed, I am glad. Your King was right, you know. One must trust their first impressions. I nearly forgot that. And, God forbid-I nearly found myself married to a coward.”
And with that, she turned away, and it did not take long to lose him in the crowd.
Author: Snowy
Characters/Pairings: Gareth, Lynet, Lyonors, Gaheris
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: You know the drill.
Summary: After his quest, Gareth is rewarded with a wife.
Notes: It was finals week. So I procrastinated. Which is to say, apologies for any nonsensicality. Title from Tennyson's "Gareth and Lynette."
It made her laugh, to see the way he got so shy as soon as his bigger, louder brothers were around. She teased him for it, and naturally they all joined in, and soon he was blushing to the ears and scuffing his feet in the dirt, looking not the victorious knight, but the kitchen page once more.
“I hope you will not be this bashful from now on,” she said to him that night, when the fire had died low and his brothers had drifted off to sleep.
“Not once we are wed,” he said, twining his fingers with hers.
“You have not mentioned it to your brothers yet, I note,” she said, pulling her hand away.
“That is because the choice is not theirs. It is for the King to say-but he will agree, I know he will,” he added quickly, reaching for her hand again, which she again snatched out of reach. “My lady! Truly, he will. I will beg him on my knees, if I must. We will be wed. I swear it.”
She fixed him with a skeptical frown, but offered her hand.
“Very well. As you are a gentleman and a knight, Sir Gareth, I will believe you. I trust you shall not be forsworn.”
He seized her hand eagerly and brought it to his lips.
“Not in a thousand years, my lady.”
When they arrived at court, the whole party was sent at once to an audience with the King. They all knelt before him: she and her sister, Gareth and his brothers. The King smiled-he had a kindly face, kinder than she remembered it being-and bid them rise. He rose himself, and stepped down from his chair to look at them.
“I guessed from the first you were more than you seemed,” he said to Gareth, who blushed. “I would gladly have been spared the frantic envoys from your mother… but I am pleased to have so fine a new knight at my service.”
“Thank you, my lord,” Gareth said, bowing deeply. And she, who had heard often the tone he adopted when offering false courtesies, knew that this time he meant it.
“But I think I can offer you a greater reward than my gratitude, can I not? Indeed, I think I may see two of my nephews wed,” the King said, casting a glance towards one of Gareth’s brothers. The King was, she thought, as perceptive as Gareth had said-even in so short a time, he had seen the glances Gaheris and her sister had been exchanging. She looked to Gareth, and he smiled.
“I would like that of all things, my lord,” he said. The King smiled, too.
“I am glad. Then let it be known! Ladies, your hands, if you please.” She and her sister at once obeyed, rising and placing their hands into the outstretched ones of the King. “In one week’s time, we will celebrate two marriages-that of my nephew Sir Gareth to the Lady Lyonors, and that of Sir Gaheris to Lady Lynet.”
Lynet felt a thread of ice shoot into her heart, and as the King placed her hand into Gaheris’s, she shot a desperate glance at Gareth. He was not looking, though-he was staring, dumbfounded, at her sister’s small hand, resting in his.
She was Lady Lynet, sometimes called Maldisant, known through her lands for her sharp mind and tongue. She should speak up, correct the King’s error, tell him of the way she and Gareth had walked side by side to her sister’s rescue and neither could remember precisely when their hands had first brushed, their eyes had first met, when he had first cupped her cheek in the palm of his big, white hand and stammered a blushing confession of love. She should-but could not.
She looked to Gareth again. He looked like a bewildered little boy, a lost kitchen page-the way he had when his brothers had teased him. And she knew he would not protest.
It was Lyonors, ever pretty and polite, who first found her tongue.
“My sister and I thank you, your majesty,” she said, lowering her eyes and bobbing into a curtsey. Gareth seemed to realize then that the King’s eyes were on him, that he was expected to speak. He looked at last to Lynet, who met his eyes for an instant, then turned her head away. She stared at her hand, loosely clasped in that of Gareth’s brother.
She could not bring herself to raise her eyes as Gareth cleared his throat and said, “Yes. Yes, uncle. I thank you.”
When they were swept from the room in a jumble of well-wishes and greetings, Lynet found herself pressed close to Gareth, who used the crush of people to hide the way he took Lynet’s hand in his. She snatched it away.
“I’m sorry-I’m so sorry-I’ll speak to him, I’ll find a way,” he said breathlessly.
“No,” she said, not bothering to lower her voice. “No, indeed, I am glad. Your King was right, you know. One must trust their first impressions. I nearly forgot that. And, God forbid-I nearly found myself married to a coward.”
And with that, she turned away, and it did not take long to lose him in the crowd.