Choice
I was inspired by the lastest episode of Merlin to write this little ficlet. I've never written for this fandom so it is a first for me. This has not been beta'd so please excuse any mistakes. This is set after Gwen is banished from Camelot.
I do not own these characters I am just borrowing.
Title: Choice
Author: 2bluaeryn
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Arthur/Guinevere
Spoilers: 4x09. Speculation for upcoming episodes.
Summary: Gwen makes a choice for her future.
CHOICE
“Let me go.” Gwen yells struggling against the bandit that holds her tight within his grasp.
“As you can see I have nothing of value. I am just a poor servant girl looking for work.”
“ Mighty brave girl to travel these roads alone.” The man's hot,rancid breath against her face causes Gwen's stomach to lurch in revulsion.
“Aye, or foolish - eh?” One of the other two men put in as they continue to rummage though her meager belongings. The last of her life in Camelot now torn and tossed on the ground in tatters as such as her life since leaving Camelot three days before. She had thought herself fortunate to not met with the likes of such on the roadways, but once leaving the safety of Camelot's protected lands the roadways were not safe for anyone especially not a woman alone and without defenses.
“She's right,” the other says, his face disfigured by a long jagged scar down one side. “There's nothing here worth stealing.”
“Well," says the man holding Gwen and pulling her tighter against his dirty body, thick oily whiskers rubbing against her skin. “then I guess she will have to do for trade. That is when we are done with her.”
“Please, NO...don't...” Gwen begs. The man turns her around to face him, black gummed teeth twisted in an evil grin of ill content.
“ Gentlemen, you should not play with the little lambs,” a sweet voice says from the shadows.
“Who's there!?” the scar face man says, turning his sword ready along with his companion.
The bandit turns Gwen around pulling her roughly against his body again and pulls his sword as well.
“Show yourself,” he shouts. Pulling her even closer he brings his sword to her neck.
A slim figure in a hooded cloak steps from behind a tree. The hood hiding the face of the wearer as they move forward.
“I think it best you release her and be on your way,” the voice is feminine yet firm.
“ I said show yourself or she dies!”
The hood is lowered to reveal a fair skinned woman with golden hair. Her eyes are sharp as she looks to the bandit holding her and the other two men. The scar face man laughs, pointing his sword at her.
“An another foolish woman traveling the roads alone. It must be our day my brothers. The more to trade...the more to share,” he smirks as he advances toward the woman with his companion, sword in hand.
“ I think not,” the woman says resolutely.
Running toward the scar face man her cloak is flung to the ground to reveal that she is dressed in pants, vest and leather bands circling her arms. She swiftly engages the scar face man in sword play - stroke for stroke. His champion tries to attack from the side but she twirls landing a foot to his midsection and an elbow to his chin sending him reeling backwards. Twisting she meets the oncoming blade of the other bandit's sword with her own. They dance around each other but it becomes clear to Gwen that the woman is the better swordsman. Just as it seems she is about to end the fight, the bandit smiles as he glances over his shoulder.
“Look out,” Gwen yells as she struggles to free herself from the grip of her captor. But she soon sees there was little need for the warning for in that split second the warrior woman makes a perfect turn as in a dance bringing her sword full circle and slashing her opponents with deadly precision. They fall lifeless to the ground. Turning back to face her the woman looks calmly at her and her captor.
“You will now release her and be on your way if you do not wish to join your companions.” Her voice is clear and sure. Gwen marvels at this woman's skill and courage second only to Camelot's best knights.
“I don't think so," her captor shouts. Even though he speaks boldly Gwen can fell the slight quiver in his hand around her waist that belies his words. “I do not give up easily what I have worked hard to take.”
Roughly he throws Gwen aside, the force of which sends her into a nearby tree nearly knocking her senseless. He charges toward the woman with an angry roar. Gwen watches again in amazement as the woman takes on her captor blow by blow dispensing of him quickly with a swift strike across his throat. She watches as he pitches forward into the dirt, his blood spilling in crimson puddles around his still body.
“He should have listened,” she says wiping her blade on the shirt of the dead man. She turns toward Gwen and approaches slowly sword still in hand.
Gwen struggles to stand her head ringing from her impact with the tree and she does not know what to think. Does she owe this woman her life or is she a threat? She watches and makes her choice.
“Thank you for your help,” Gwen says. “I owe you my life.”
“You owe me nothing,” the woman says putting her sword away. “But those men were right, it is unwise for you to travel these roads alone. Where is your home?”
“I have no home,” Gwen says looking at what is left of the little means she had in the world thrown about her. “I have nothing.”
“No, that is not true,” the woman says softly drawing Gwen's attention to her. “You have your life and that is worth much.” She holds out her hand. “ My name is Isolde and yours?”
“Guinevere, but my friends call me Gwen.”
I do not own these characters I am just borrowing.
Title: Choice
Author: 2bluaeryn
Rating: PG-13
Pairing: Arthur/Guinevere
Spoilers: 4x09. Speculation for upcoming episodes.
Summary: Gwen makes a choice for her future.
CHOICE
“Let me go.” Gwen yells struggling against the bandit that holds her tight within his grasp.
“As you can see I have nothing of value. I am just a poor servant girl looking for work.”
“ Mighty brave girl to travel these roads alone.” The man's hot,rancid breath against her face causes Gwen's stomach to lurch in revulsion.
“Aye, or foolish - eh?” One of the other two men put in as they continue to rummage though her meager belongings. The last of her life in Camelot now torn and tossed on the ground in tatters as such as her life since leaving Camelot three days before. She had thought herself fortunate to not met with the likes of such on the roadways, but once leaving the safety of Camelot's protected lands the roadways were not safe for anyone especially not a woman alone and without defenses.
“She's right,” the other says, his face disfigured by a long jagged scar down one side. “There's nothing here worth stealing.”
“Well," says the man holding Gwen and pulling her tighter against his dirty body, thick oily whiskers rubbing against her skin. “then I guess she will have to do for trade. That is when we are done with her.”
“Please, NO...don't...” Gwen begs. The man turns her around to face him, black gummed teeth twisted in an evil grin of ill content.
“ Gentlemen, you should not play with the little lambs,” a sweet voice says from the shadows.
“Who's there!?” the scar face man says, turning his sword ready along with his companion.
The bandit turns Gwen around pulling her roughly against his body again and pulls his sword as well.
“Show yourself,” he shouts. Pulling her even closer he brings his sword to her neck.
A slim figure in a hooded cloak steps from behind a tree. The hood hiding the face of the wearer as they move forward.
“I think it best you release her and be on your way,” the voice is feminine yet firm.
“ I said show yourself or she dies!”
The hood is lowered to reveal a fair skinned woman with golden hair. Her eyes are sharp as she looks to the bandit holding her and the other two men. The scar face man laughs, pointing his sword at her.
“An another foolish woman traveling the roads alone. It must be our day my brothers. The more to trade...the more to share,” he smirks as he advances toward the woman with his companion, sword in hand.
“ I think not,” the woman says resolutely.
Running toward the scar face man her cloak is flung to the ground to reveal that she is dressed in pants, vest and leather bands circling her arms. She swiftly engages the scar face man in sword play - stroke for stroke. His champion tries to attack from the side but she twirls landing a foot to his midsection and an elbow to his chin sending him reeling backwards. Twisting she meets the oncoming blade of the other bandit's sword with her own. They dance around each other but it becomes clear to Gwen that the woman is the better swordsman. Just as it seems she is about to end the fight, the bandit smiles as he glances over his shoulder.
“Look out,” Gwen yells as she struggles to free herself from the grip of her captor. But she soon sees there was little need for the warning for in that split second the warrior woman makes a perfect turn as in a dance bringing her sword full circle and slashing her opponents with deadly precision. They fall lifeless to the ground. Turning back to face her the woman looks calmly at her and her captor.
“You will now release her and be on your way if you do not wish to join your companions.” Her voice is clear and sure. Gwen marvels at this woman's skill and courage second only to Camelot's best knights.
“I don't think so," her captor shouts. Even though he speaks boldly Gwen can fell the slight quiver in his hand around her waist that belies his words. “I do not give up easily what I have worked hard to take.”
Roughly he throws Gwen aside, the force of which sends her into a nearby tree nearly knocking her senseless. He charges toward the woman with an angry roar. Gwen watches again in amazement as the woman takes on her captor blow by blow dispensing of him quickly with a swift strike across his throat. She watches as he pitches forward into the dirt, his blood spilling in crimson puddles around his still body.
“He should have listened,” she says wiping her blade on the shirt of the dead man. She turns toward Gwen and approaches slowly sword still in hand.
Gwen struggles to stand her head ringing from her impact with the tree and she does not know what to think. Does she owe this woman her life or is she a threat? She watches and makes her choice.
“Thank you for your help,” Gwen says. “I owe you my life.”
“You owe me nothing,” the woman says putting her sword away. “But those men were right, it is unwise for you to travel these roads alone. Where is your home?”
“I have no home,” Gwen says looking at what is left of the little means she had in the world thrown about her. “I have nothing.”
“No, that is not true,” the woman says softly drawing Gwen's attention to her. “You have your life and that is worth much.” She holds out her hand. “ My name is Isolde and yours?”
“Guinevere, but my friends call me Gwen.”