Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow
Title: Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow
Rating: R, mild. But this is the bulk of what warrants it. I didn’t want to sugarcoat the brutalities of battle.
Sorry for the wait again! This is just usually that busy time of year and I participated in the merlinreversebb . It was a lot of fun, but I ended up writing this long long story, lol. Please be sure to check out the beautiful artwork for it by nickygabriel (here at my LJ and at hers too) and if you have a chance hope you can give the story a read (Fragile Peace). It has lots of AG with lots of Merlin, Morgana and Mordred too.
Anyway, thanks for your patience as always and your lovely comments last time for this story!
Rest of my notes/disclaimer with the first part…
***
Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow
Four: The Burning Fever of Love
Departing Camelot on horseback, each knight able to catch a horse that was fleeing from the burning barn, they traveled underneath the shadowy moon, coming to the dark density of the woodland. The only thing that cut through the black was the red and orange patches littering the sky, a byproduct of the attack on Camelot. They turned their heads from one side to the other, searching, as there was a chance that if Arthur was injured when he fled the kingdom, he may have stopped to rest in the forest.
Still uncertain why he fled so urgently, they were concerned too about Elyan’s capture, for Morgana could be truly ruthless. Some comfort came from the fact that Elyan was strong of mind, as all knights of Camelot had to be. Arthur taught them not only about physical combat, but had also showed them that there were ways for soldiers to persevere mentally through the most heinous situations if they calmed their fears.
Hearing something within all the quiet, Gwaine gestured to Percival. Quietly they brought their horses to a halt and climbed down from their backs. Listening for a moment then they used their hands, giving voiceless signals, barring a few words.
“Over there.”
The bristle of noise came again from within the gathering oaks and ascending pines. It was possible it was an animal, that implying its own kind of danger; if it was a person it could be one of the enemy fighters. They had managed so far to avoid Helios’s armies. This could be one hiding in hopes of an ambush. Each was ready, sword in hand.
Percival reached within the trees, grasping hold of an arm and pulling the person out swiftly. Both he and Gwaine reacted with shock at the dirtied and frightened little girl.
“Sarya?”
***
“Arthur…” Gwen whispered again.
Her fingers lifted away some of his sweating hairs from his brow, noticing with angered dismay the speckles of blood at his scalp’s line. It got worse she soon realized as she looked down at the blood soaked ash tunic. From his body came no movement, even as she said his name repeatedly. Lowering her fingers she found the first good sign, his pulse beating well enough to reassure her that for the moment he was just unconscious.
Her wayward curls, for so long not groomed properly, fell over her eyes. Restlessly Gwen pushed them backward and looked over at the man she had killed with the sword she found on the ground. She was almost certain the arsenal was Arthur’s.
The man was lying with his face down, a dense patch of blood under his abdomen, getting little of her sympathy. She had only heard bits at the end, saw trickles of what he did to Arthur, but it had been enough to fuel her anger to take him out with just one blow to his vitals. Perhaps now deceased his attire and weaponry could be useful.
As she approached him she heard it, the distinct sound of horse’s hooves stamping and stomping upon the woodland ground. Gwen ceased her movements. If they found their fallen comrade they would find her too. And with Arthur unconscious he couldn’t protect himself. Debating for a handful of seconds on what to do first, she came up with a plan of action.
She would pull Arthur’s body within a cluster of foliage. Then she would drag the fallen man into an area with fallen trees from a previous wind storm in which some of the earth had formed into a hole about three feet deep, and cover him with forest debris. Finally she would pull Arthur to her place of shelter for the past few days.
None of it would be an easy task. Her meals of late had been sparse and barely nourishing, leaving her weak physically. After being hunted in the wood by Helios’s men and Morgana, she was riddled with bruises and scrapes, her body sore in various places. So her one friend would be adrenaline.
Bending down, she slipped her hands under Arthur’s arms, grasping tightly at his armpits and heaving vigorously. Her limbs gave ache right away. Arthur ate well and topped upon that was his prevalent muscled build from years of fighting and training. Ignoring her discomfort, she toiled with purpose until finally she got him to the cluster of trees.
“Okay…now him…” She let out through taxed breaths, her chest rising and falling rapidly from her efforts.
The man of Helios’s army was even heftier than Arthur. She dropped him twice when her sweating dirtied hands slipped away from his stoutness. There would be no time to use his outer clothing or weaponry she surmised now, as getting both her and Arthur out of the open was the most important thing. She’d drop the man in the hole, cover him up swiftly, and then rush back to her king.
It took much strain of her muscles to get him to the hole, but finally she achieved it, throwing some forest debris upon his body.
Standing afterward, she lifted her eyes, spotting above the treetops the orange red clouds of smoke lifting into the sky. It gave her no doubt that Camelot was under attack, hence the reason for Arthur’s wounds. What she didn’t get was why he would flee in nothing more than a simple tunic and without his knights. She couldn’t think of any scenario where Arthur would allow himself to be chased into the wood, no guard in attendance.
Feeling the vibrations now through the earth, hearing the sounds of trampled nature, Gwen shook away her thoughts. They would soon be here.
Panting heavily, she ran swiftly back to Arthur.
***
They knew Sarya as the young daughter of a peasant man that Sir Paul had working for him. Now, both Percival and Gwaine were stunned to see her so deep within the wood. Although many had probably fled Camelot this night, it gravely concerned them that she seemed to be alone.
After getting an explanation from her they understood her situation and finally began to comprehend what made their king depart Camelot. He was protecting Sarya of course, after those heathens killed Sir Paul and grievously injured her parents. As she came to the end of her story the adrenaline that must have kept her emotions in check, wavered, and the tears started to fall down her face. Coming forward, maybe a hefty giant size of a man, but a soft soul, Percival reached for her, soothing with his somewhat clumsy words, and tendering her tangles of hair with his big hands.
“It’s alright Sarya. I’m sure your parents are well. The king made certain of that.”
Squatting down, Gwaine agreed, rubbing the girl’s back as he exchanged a troubled look with Percival about the king’s possible predicament. “Yes, Sarya. Percival’s right. Now you said that the king left after you. Did you see the way he went at all?”
Sarya moved away from Percival’s gentle hold just enough to look up at Gwaine, his expression kind as he held at her back. “No Sir Gwaine. I’m not entirely sure. I only saw him ride away from where I did and then I saw him no more. There was a terrible man following him. I hope King Arthur is alright.”
Percival and Gwaine exchanged another tight look, concern drilling through both their minds as Arthur was without a doubt a warrior fighter, but injured as badly as it sounded he was, what kind of fight could he put up against a man like that?
They needed to talk this out. Feeling in his pocket, finding some bits of carrot, something most riders carried, Gwaine gestured meaningfully toward the girl. “Sarya, will you feed the horses? I’d be most grateful.”
The girl gave a glimmer of a smile, heading to her task with solid purpose, getting a reprieve from the horribleness of this night.
Keeping a careful watch on her and guarding the area with their eyes for potential enemy fighters, Percival and Gwaine talked, Percival starting to wonder if maybe they should go back, resulting in Gwaine’s rebuttal.
“We can’t do that. Morgana already has Elyan. We go back, she takes us too.”
Tightly grimacing, Percival argued. “I can fight her. Can fight any man, definitely can face up to a woman.”
“One that’s a sorceress?” Gwaine asked pointedly. “She’s powerful Percival. She’s not going to stop at anything. I can go against any brawn too, but her magic-
“If she has Arthur though, Gwaine, we’re leaving our king to the worst fate. You heard what Sarya said, and Helios too. Arthur was leaning in his saddle, barely able to ride. If they captured him…then we’re abandoning our sovereign. What if she kills him? We need to go back. It is our duty and beyond that, Arthur is our friend.”
Strongly Gwaine shook his head, even as there was no ease in his protest. “No. Morgana won’t kill him right away. She’s not like that. She’d rather humiliate him first, let him see the worst. And maybe he wasn’t caught. Maybe he is on his way to Ealdor. Percival, we go back and we get captured. That will help nothing. There’s Sarya too. We need to make sure she’s safe. Arthur would want that. If he’s not in Ealdor once we arrive, then at least we can strengthen our forces there and be back in Camelot in a few days.”
“And what if she does have him now and they kill Arthur? What then, Gwaine?”
“We’d be no help to him anyway if she captured us. Percival we only have one choice. You know that. I’m not saying it’s an easy one to take, but we can’t leave Sarya. The best way to do this is for all of us to go to Ealdor. And hope he’s there.”
Dully knowing Gwaine was right, Percival slowly nodded his head. “Let’s go now then.”
***
It was as she was towing Arthur she heard the increasingly thundering sounds of the horse’s hooves, felt the stronger pounding vibrations under her feet. Gwen had no choice but to crouch down with his slack body behind the bushes and trees. Bringing her hair away from her ear, she watched and listened in as the men, four of them, dismounted their horses. The woman in the black dress behind them made her almost gasp aloud.
Morgana.
“You let him escape before. See to it that doesn’t happen this time or there will be consequences.”
“Yes my lady.” The voices came back a bit disorderly. They were not as well trained and coordinated as Camelot guard, but they were fierce fighters for sure with a slew of impressively frightening weapons hanging from their belts. Gwen fretted now what that could mean. If they found her, she could maybe hurt one man, but all four and with Morgana a sorceress? No. She needed a miracle.
Hearing a weak moan, she turned her eyes to Arthur. His tunic was soaked in blood. If left unattended to, he could die. Ripping away a piece of the bizarre outfit Helios had her wear, careful to keep the sound from carrying, she brought it to his bloodied skin, pressing down firmly to squelch the blood’s flow.
“Search this area well and everything surrounding it. I want not a single patch of land left unturned. Your welfare depends upon the finding of Arthur Pendragon. Hunt like a wolf would. I want him FOUND.”
Gwen shivered at that, Morgana’s words so intense and threatening that the men under her command would not stop until her orders were carried out precisely. She was just a few feet away, barely hidden by the trees. She could try to move to that hole she put their other member in, but the noise would alert them.
She looked up to the fiery skies, silently praying.
Holding still for long moments of time she felt it as they neared, the heat of breath cutting through the evening’s cold from one of the men. It made her grasp the sword tighter with intent.
In Camelot she had order and civility. Here there was none of that. Morgana had turned her into a hunted beast, literally, when she gave her the body of a wild deer. That brought on alterations to Gwen’s demeanor since. Even though she was not at all bloodthirsty, she would take a life to save the man she loved. And after what Morgana did, she would hold little remorse for her actions of survival.
She lifted the blade parallel to her breast, prepared to thrust and make contact if need be. It happened then though, like an odd miracle that heard her earlier prayers. As the man started to pull away the brush, she heard it, and so did they.
“What is that?” The man asked, lowering his hand. They all turned to look, Morgana’s eyes scrutinizing with the sharpness of a needle.
“The sound of a horse. Could be more..” She whispered meaningfully. “Nearing. That must be him. Hurry!”
They all climbed back upon their mounts, rapidly turning them toward the sound, riding away with angry kicks of dirt from the horse’s hooves.
Once they were gone, Gwen let out the breath she’d been holding, lowering the sword with relief, ever so grateful for the distraction. Now finally she could get both of them to shelter.
Up again upon her feet, she tugged Arthur’s bleeding body, ignoring the bolts of pain viciously traversing through her arms.
***
It was as Gwaine, Percival and Sarya were riding swiftly through the forest, while checking for any sign of their king, they heard the sudden rumble of horses moving behind them. Gwaine urged his horse closer to Sarya and the mare she was riding, grasping the young girl’s waist tightly. She shrieked, unsettled by the rash feel of his hands. Gwaine barely had time to calm her before he heard a distinct voice clearly. He and Percival exchanged whitened looks.
“Morgana.”
“Yeah, come on. Sorry Sarya we got to leave your horse!” Gwaine pressed forward, keeping the girl firmly against him, riding his stallion at a dangerous and yet necessary pace. Percival followed rapidly as the abandoned mare gave a shrill whinny, running in the other direction.
Even if she wasn’t meant to be a decoy, she became a powerful one now. Hearing the clamor of her retreat, Morgana and the men from Helios’s army chased her down, not realizing it was just one horse without a rider they were pursuing.
***
“Aaaahhh…” Gwen grunted, slipping on a patch of forest growth while tugging Arthur’s limp body.
She managed to keep herself from falling, getting to the cave’s entrance. Bending her knees, because it had a low ceiling, she pulled Arthur inside with one last aching force of her arms. Then, exhausted from it all, she sagged against the rocky wall.
***
Morgana’s expression was livid, which made Percival smile just a tad as he hid with his horse, keeping the animal calm and preoccupied with bits of carrot. If they had planned it all, it couldn’t have gone better. Letting the mare go had worked in their favor. Morgana and Helios’s men had heatedly pursued it and now seemed to be realizing their blunder.
From his hiding spot, crouched deep within the oaks and pines, Percival listened in cautiously. It was risky holding back for sure, but after a bit of following Gwaine’s lead he had done so to see why Morgana and Helios’s men cut short their pursuit. If need be it could have also served as a diversion, allowing Gwaine to get Sarya away from the danger. Now it seemed that wasn’t yet necessary, for their foes made a crucial error.
“They had someone with them.” Morgana stated.
It was loud enough that Percival could covertly hear her.
“Maybe that’s why Arthur left so quickly. We know he was hurt, but it seems he was also protecting someone.”
Through the tangled oak leaves and pine branches, he could see her mouth tighten to a grimace. It stayed that way for a moment or two before her eyes brightened with thought.
“Okay. This is what we’re going to do. You two head that way and look for any trail they may have taken. Be careful though. If they know they’re being pursued they may try to confuse the route they took.”
Percival smiled further at that comment. Indeed they had and this little mare made it even more unclear.
“And you two keep searching this area of the wood, advancing further if need be. I’ll search with you for a bit, and then I need to get back to Camelot and deal with our distinguished prisoner, Sir Elyan, see what he has to say about all of this” The name of the knight was spoken with mocking. Percival had to fight the urge to not jump out of the trees and swing his sword at her.
One thing lightened his mood. She had no idea either where Arthur was. Ah, injured yes, but their king was safe.
It wasn’t until the sound of their retreating horses had faded completely, Percival mounted his horse again. He had to catch up with Gwaine.
***
“Oh these wounds are deep. And your skin, it’s hot, dry. A fever’s growing within you.” Gwen lamented, tearing away the last bits of Arthur’s tunic.
He was bleeding more than she liked, some dried, yes, but too much still flowing. She tore at more of her purple glimmering pants, that hideous outfit Helios had her wear. Applying further pressure where it was needed, she worked to stop the bleeding completely.
This tiny cave had been her home for days now. She found it after Merlin came to see her and suggested she go to Ealdor. Hunith and the people of Ealdor would be kind and noble enough to graciously provide her with shelter she was certain.
She had been held back though by the foreboding fear that Camelot was in danger, a fear that had come true this night. When she saw Merlin she told him what Morgana, Helios and Agravaine had planned, to take Camelot by using its secret layout. It seemed the warning had fallen upon deaf ears for the king, this the fallout.
What was surprising was that he was alone. It would be the duty of every knight to protect their sovereign. Merlin too would not leave Arthur’s side. Something must have happened to have separated them, to have made Arthur flee to the forest.
“Mmmm…hh…mmm…”
As she moved within the cave, to soak up the dampness in its rear corner, she heard his weak moans. She tore off another lower piece of her pants and dipped it into the shallow water. Then making her way back, she lowered the cool wet cloth upon his hot forehead. “Shhhh….rest. I’m here. You’re not alone.”
It was a harshly isolated environment they both were in, something she had been thrust into for almost a week now, and even prior to that. Days before the cave she had taken refuge in a village Gaius told her about. Although the people had been mostly kind, they were also quiet, hard working. None of them cared to start up solid friendships as their lives were simple, centered on survival of their families. No matter. After being forced to leave Camelot in such disgrace, she didn’t want to associate much anyway, keeping to herself as she did her work. Now, his company was the first lasting kind in a while.
Running the wet material over Arthur’s face, down his bared chest, the tunic ripped severely enough to expose it, she recalled something. He had promised something to her long ago, before they started any kind of relationship, that her house would always be hers. A day before their wedding was supposed to have taken place, he had forced her to leave that same house, and the only kingdom she ever called home.
How vastly things could change.
She knew there were some women who would not care to help a man who banished them. There would be others who would be so indulgent they’d weep away their life away after losing such man and beg him for forgiveness. Gwen put herself in the middle. A part of her didn’t want to trust, while the other cared not to push upon him any blame. It was simple really. She loved him. Banishment couldn’t cease that. Her heart had ached without him and was aching still to see him now so fevered, so sick.
With that his body started to thrash wildly, almost as if complaining at physically being ignored as she mused. Typical of nobility, Arthur rarely did well with not being paid to mind. It would be amusing if he wasn’t still losing blood and if the bulk of his skin wasn’t so dry and hot like a burning desert. It was hard to keep his body down with her limbs so taxed, but she did her best, tears filling her eyes.
“Stop.”
She brought the wet rag further down his chest, soaking his body with cool moisture. “Don’t move so. You’ll hurt yourself.” The cavern was full of spiked rock that if you moved too suddenly you could cut yourself upon. She wanted no such harm to come to him. She had endured enough of it her first nights, receiving not so pretty irritating scrapes.
As nothing seemed to work to calm him, Gwen thought for a moment of the story Gaius told her the night before she departed Camelot. Wrapped within it was her own distant memory, always so hazy, and yet now she could feel it swirling more evidently.
As Arthur’s body thrashed again violently, she firmly put her palms down upon his shoulders, shuddering at the boiling heat there coming from his skin. She wouldn’t let go. She’d let it burn her own palms as long as needed to get him to calm. Parting her half blistered lips, the forest not all that kind, she hoarsely began to sing it, her voice not used to being utilized so much since the banishment, even more-so since Morgana’s beastly enchantment thrust her away from most civilization.
When the nyhtegale singes,
The wodes waxen grene,
Lef ant gras ant blosme springes
In Averyl, Y wene ;
Ant love is to myn herte gon
With one spere so kene,
Nyht ant day my blod hit drynkes
Myn herte deth me ten
She sang it in the old language, the one her memory held. It was how her mother used to sing it, with those words of times ago. Feeling him thrash some more, she didn’t give up the song, just brought her hands under his bared shoulders. Gwen pulled until Arthur’s head was resting upon her lap. Then wiping further at his chest to cool him as much as possible, she sang another part.
Ich have loved al this yer
That Y may love na more;
Ich have siked moni syk,
Lemmon, for thin ore,
Me nis love neuer the ner,
Ant that me reweth sore;
Suete lemmon, thench on me,
Ich have loved the yore.
She felt his violent movements lessening. Good, Gwen thought. It was working to calm him, similar to how when they were just babes her presence seemed to ease his sobs for his mother.
Gwen chilled though as she heard it.
Voices of a search party. They were looking for him still. She stopped singing. Soon enough Arthur’s wild thrashing started again. She grimaced tightly at it.
Too dangerous it was to sing to him without the possibility of being heard. If Morgana found him, Arthur would have no chance and neither would Camelot. But his writhing was too precarious.
Bringing her head down so her lips moved right above his face, Gwen sang ever so quietly so only he could hear. As she did, his body’s movements lost their vigor.
Suete lemmon, Y preye thee,
Of love one speche;
Whil Y lyve in world so wyde
Other nulle Y seche.
With thy love, my suete leof,
My blis thou mihtes eche;
A suete cos of thy mouth
Mihte be my leche.
The lyrics of the song held within certain sadness, a shadowed effect of much of the music of the time. But to contrast the sobering lyrics the melody was sweetly uplifting. Gwen felt that singing it so intimately, softly, lessened her fears of being found.
Suete lemmon, Y preye theew
Of a love-bene:
Yef thou me lovest, ase men says,
Lemmon, as I wene,
Ant yef hit thi wille be,
Thou loke that hit be sene;
So muchel Y thenke vpon the
That al y waxe grene.
Arthur’s fever was still faintly there, but he was barely losing blood anymore, and breaking out a sweat where earlier his skin had been burning with dryness. She shakily hoped that meant the worst of his sickness was passing. Before she sang the last verse, Gwen brought to his face sprinkles of water, gently pressing it into his skin to keep him as cool as possible. The cave wasn’t terribly warm, something she lamented most nights, but didn’t mind much now as it helped to lower his temperature.
Bituene Lyncolne ant Lyndeseye,
Norhamptoun ant Lounde,
Ne wot I non so fayr a may,
As y go fore ybounde.
Suete lemmon, Y preye the
Thou lovie me a stounde;
Y wole mone my song
On wham that hit ys on ylong.
With the song complete, Gwen rested her cheek upon the top of Arthur’s head, feeling the hot sweat rained through his hair. Tenderly she stroked his chest with wet cooled hands, whispering, “You will not die. I will not let you. It is not your time. I have always believed in you. Always loved you. I will do all I can to take this fever from you, to keep your wounds from infecting, but you must hold on. You must be strong. Your people need you to live and be the ruler, the king they love. Now whatever has passed, it does not matter. Arthur you must get well.
You must.”
She sobbed against him, her body shaking over his. It had been so long since she had seen him, and now that she was once again, she was committed to one thing.
He would open his eyes…
And see her.
***
“Gwaine!”
Percival called out. When his fellow knight didn’t slow down, Percival yelled again, this time getting the other’s attention.
“What is it?” Gwaine asked after stopping his horse, holding to Sarya’s waist, noticing that Percival was jumpy to say more.
Catching his breath first, after a fast furious ride, Percival told him how he had seen Morgana and her men, found out they were chasing Sarya’s abandoned horse, and that he knew for sure now Morgana did not have the king.
To the last part Gwaine breathed a sigh of relief and some of the tension elevated from Sarya’s face, the unknown fate of her parents still bothering her.
Understanding she was fearful, Gwaine tried to reassure. “Sarya, we will find the king. Maybe he’s already on his way to Ealdor. And your parents will be alright too. You’ll see them again.”
She said nothing, just nodded her head with as much hope she could muster. Gwaine and Percival exchanged looks, wishing they knew without a doubt that her parents would be alright. But it was all as up in the air as Elyan’s fate was. Maybe even the king’s.
Nevertheless, the important thing was not to get captured themselves. They started their horses up again, knowing it was too soon to stop somewhere to rest. They’d have to keep riding for at least a few more hours to make sure Morgana and Helios’s men didn’t catch up to them.
***
Merlin, Gaius and Leon had stopped to rest in the wood. Then as morning dawn approached they started their ride again to Ealdor.
Now as the sun had yet to rise and the dawning mist sat square in the sky, they came to the rural little village. Merlin felt his breath alter as he came to the place of his birth. It was rare he was able to visit and even though the circumstances now were not good ones at all, it filled his heart to think he’d be seeing his mother.
He looked back to Gaius, noticing that the elder man’s face was wearied from their long ride. He’d talk to his mother about setting up a cot for him.
As he neared his house, some of those he knew reacted, displaying their excitement right away and asking if the king was with him. Merlin smiled at that. Arthur was popular with most of the villagers after his assistance in defeating Kanen and his accomplices. Merlin had to tell them that Arthur was not with him this time, at least not yet. He was hoping that he was safe and would be arriving soon.
Left alone to approach his small simple stone house, he could just make out the familiar form of his mother, her back to him as she tended to the farmed land. Like the rest, she was up ever so early.
“Mother…” He whispered.
She turned around, her eyes wide with surprise, before a smile of joy curved at her lips. Merlin watched it, thinking what he always did, that his mother was her loveliest when happy. Thrilled at seeing her again, he rushed, feeling her rush to him with matching delighted haste.
“Oh Merlin…” He felt the solidity of her arms wrapping around his battled taxed body. Letting out a content sigh, Merlin relaxed for a long moment. All his thoughts ceased as they hugged.
Soon enough though, he recalled the urgency of his visit. He regretfully broke away from her, bringing his hand upon his mother’s shoulder with purpose.
“What is it?” Hunith asked him with concern in her eyes, touching her son’s cheek. Then seeing the two men behind him, one ever so familiar, she questioned, “Merlin?”
Shaking his head, Merlin told her that it would take a while to explain, but that the most important part of it was Camelot was under attack. She gasped at that as he asked her, “Is Gwen here?”
Hunith faced him with confusion, making Merlin sigh. “Another story that will take some time to relate, but suffice to say she was banished by Arthur. I got to see her again and I suggested she come here.
Has…she come Mother?” He was afraid he already knew the answer, receiving it with certainty as Hunith shook her head.
“No Merlin. I haven’t seen her since the last time you all came, years ago.”
Dully Merlin nodded his head, wondering worriedly where she could be, and where was Arthur.
***
Darkness.
That’s what his eyes opened to, an environment of inky blackness except for the crack of light that came from the opening in front of him. Barely even so, mostly it was a tiny hole of illumination. Getting a glimpse of the craggy rock on the walls and underneath him, he was certain that he was not inside any building.
Dampness soaked through his skin. He was wet, cool and wet. His body ached, needles of pain plaguing it, especially his chest.
And…
He was not alone.
Someone was sleeping at his side, a small sun tinted hand spread out over his heart. That almost in itself was enough for him to know who it belonged to. The clincher was the tight ringlet of curls tickling his shoulder.
But this couldn’t be.
How was she here? How was he here…wherever here was?
It was crucial he figure this out as he didn’t like situations of uncertainty.
However, his fingers had another strong desire. They always tempted, her curls, and it had been days now since he had touched them last.
His feelings a hot mess, having her right next to him, he couldn’t help but drive his fingers within her hair. It was tangled, much of its softness gone.
It didn’t matter.
“Guinevere?” He whispered hoarsely, unable to get his voice to its usual stronger timbre.
It was too quiet, gaining him no response. His throat was dry, his vocal chords shaky, probably having to do with his injuries.
Blearily he tried to remember where he got them from in the first place, his mind slowly recalling the violent events. Morgana, Agravaine and Helios led an attack on Camelot, his uncle proving to be treacherous. Vast amounts of the Southron Army invaded. Fires blazed. Innocent people died. Lives were threatened including his and…Sarya.
Did she make it?
What about his knights? Gaius? Merlin?
It made him restless, having no idea where any of them were, if anyone had been captured. Question after question. He wanted to know how he got here. He wanted her to wake, talk to him. It was selfish not letting her sleep, but as he was royalty he didn’t usually wait for answers.
“Guinevere…” He tried again, but his voice still barely carried, not stirring her at all. Nor did his restlessness deplete at all. It felt wrong to be sleeping, lying down while his kingdom was being taken. It was his duty to protect his people, to fight back.
“Guinevere.”
He brought more force to his voice, getting it out this time in a way that touched her ears. Feeling her movements, he waited with little patience, breath fast, anxiousness filling his body.
It wasn’t some mirage or trick of his mind, right? He wasn’t hallucinating…
As she started to lift her head, he let go of her tangled curls and received his answer. Even in the low light her eyes glowed like dark onyx.
“It is you.” He whispered wonderingly.
Slowly Gwen nodded her head. “Yes.”
Sometime after singing to him, during the threatening sounds of pursuit, when finally his skin seemed cool enough and the bleeding had stopped, she had fallen asleep. Now with rivulets of emotion, she reached out, touching his hair, fingering to the line of his scalp. The night previous it had burned. Now it was cool, damp.
She wanted to keep her fingers there, but after all that had transpired she wasn’t certain, feeling impelled to explain her actions as she lowered her hand. “You had a fever last night. I was worried so…” The words didn’t come out that clearly. She fumbled on them uncertainly. “I did all I could to bring it down.”
Well that explained why his skin was so wet. His tongue caught in his throat. Arthur wasn’t sure how you thank the woman you sent away, that you still loved, and yet she betrayed you. So wearily he just nodded his head.
It was like regressing to their most awkward days, making Gwen slide back the short distance to bring her shoulders against the cave’s wall opposite him.
As she did, Arthur took it in with advanced observance, what he had only gotten a glimmer of before, as that crack of light shined more strongly upon her now. What she wore left little to the imagination, exposing her flat stomach, but for some transparent slap of fabric, shimmering everywhere else, all the way up to where it enhanced the commencing curve of her breasts. Sensual it was, maybe, but also plainly hideous, like nothing he’d ever seen her in, and even if she could make it work in her favor, it made his teeth grit edgily to see her this way.
“What are you wearing?”
Gwen looked down at the wild attire Helios had her wear, self-consciously covering herself with the leftover tattered pieces of Arthur’s tunic. “It’s a long story.”
Arthur’s eyebrows rose, his hand coming outward, as if to tell her he was more than ready to hear it.
Gwen grimaced. It was obvious he wasn’t going to relent. “After I was banished from Camelot…”
The reminder made his jaw clench. It had been his decision to banish her, better than having her executed, but still it had been no easy solution.
Not so much for her either.
“I went to live in a village far enough away from here.”
Arthur nodded and asked with a voice that was a bit more back to regularity, “Where is here anyway?”
Gwen shook her head. “I’ll tell you in a moment.”
“Fine.” He stated with more curtness than intended. His emotions on edge, anger was at the finest perimeter. Maybe it had to do with seeing her like this, wearing whatever thing she was wearing. The Guinevere he knew never dressed wantonly.
For a moment he remembered painfully the kisses he witnessed and wondered if that maybe had something to do with it, but then he pushed such a stupid thought to the back of his mind. No matter what happened with her and Lancelot, she wasn’t some common har-
Oh, he would not take it there, never referring to any woman in such a crude way, let alone the woman who he still-
Ah.
Seeing the stark lines of agitation on his face, and yet not knowing what barbed war was going on in his mind, Gwen continued. “Whilst I was living in that village, it came under attack.”
Leaving his issues with her outfit, Arthur tried to sit up now, the sharp pain in his chest forcing a moan past his lips. Soon the pressure of her palm was against his shoulder as she reprimanded him with acute care.
“Don’t move. You were hurt badly last night. You need to lie still.”
Arthur fidgeted, still trying to move his body, but it was no use. Each bit of effort caused him more discomfort and caused her to frown at him with fiercer disapproval. He gave in and Gwen continued.
“Rest assured. I was not hurt. Unfortunately many of the villagers were. The attack came from Helios-
Arthur startled at that. Helios was the war hungry king who aided Morgana. She had the vicious barbaric Southron Army in her command thanks to him. “Helios is working with Morgana. He helped her take Camelot, aided further by my traitorous uncle.” Arthur hinged on the last words painfully and angrily.
Gwen just nodded her head. “I know. Helios actually liked me so he brought me to his…place of hiding and gave me these clothes.” Gwen related, gesturing to what she was wearing.
Arthur felt anger boil in him at that, burns of concern flaming. “If he-
Gwen already knew where his line of thought was going as she had wondered too when being taken if Helios’s intent was to use her for such…indecencies. “He didn’t. He had no time to even if he planned it. Honestly he was not cruel to me at all. Like I said, he seemed to prefer my company. He simply invited me to dinner. However, it was cut short.”
“Why?”
“He had a visitor. Morgana.”
Arthur closed his eyes for the blink of a second, feeling waves of stupidity for what he should have known and seen. It wasn’t like he was some naïve young prince just sat upon the throne. “Did she see you?”
Gwen shook her head. “No. But I heard what they spoke of, that they were planning an attack on Camelot with Agravaine’s assistance using the layouts of the castle. It was then I fled, knowing Camelot needed to be warned somehow.”
Once again he tried to sit up. As he did Gwen whispered ‘no’, pushing down upon Arthur’s shoulder with her palm. “You can’t move.”
This time Arthur fought her, tensely lifting his hand, finding some of her curls and holding tightly to them, so much so that she winced just a bit before he loosened his hold. It was shocking to hear she knew about the planned attack before it occurred. “You could have been killed! Did they catch up with you?”
“They didn’t.” Gwen reassured, before she added another horror. “Morgana did.”
There was a time Arthur would think nothing ill of that. After all, Morgana had always treated Guinevere more as a friend than her maidservant, displaying grave concern when she was taken by Hengist, insisting that she be found.
But somewhere along the way things changed ever so darkly. Morgana had no care for any of them anymore. She blamed the sins of his father on all of them. “What did she do?”
Gwen lowered her head.
That only brought up Arthur’s anxiety. Flattening his bared elbow against the cave’s ground, ignoring the prickles of pain from the jagged rock, he grimaced tightly, endeavoring to lift his upper body enough to touch. His hand shaking from the rivulets of tension, he held fast as much he could to Guinevere’s cheek. “What happened? Tell me.”
Gwen shook her head, knowing he was putting too much stress on his hurt body. She tried to push him back, but he held on. Gwen hesitated heavily. When Morgana turned her into that animal it not only hurt her. It humiliated her. And at the time Arthur was with that princess. She saw them joking, enjoying each other’s company…
The tears that suddenly started falling down her face stunned him. He didn’t want to see her like this, holding back something so horrible she wouldn’t tell him.
“Guinevere…” He kept touching her cheek, trying to get her to look up, not caring about his discomfort as his elbow burned from the tension placed upon it. “Please.”
Shaking her head now, she whispered softly, finally showing him her eyes. “Lie down.”
Stubbornly he didn’t heed.
Her voice flooded with emotion, she caringly told him again, “Arthur, lie back down.”
The use of his given name did it. Not everyone always called him by it and only she stated it in such a fashion that got him to listen unwaveringly. So finally with her assistance he slowly lay back down, keeping a tight hold of her hand all the while.
Letting out a deep sigh, she recounted that day. “Morgana enchanted me so that I appeared as a wild animal, a deer.”
A deer? Arthur’s breath held sickeningly. A deer, prey for wild animals, for hunters? “How could-
Gwen quietly interrupted, having a hard enough time already getting it out without him saying anything. “Then she left me in the wood for…”
Heaven, no.
Guinevere confirmed it for him.
“You were hunting that day with a princess and-
The rest of the words faded in his mind, his heart beating too rapidly. Feeling her shaking, Arthur squeezed her hand.
It had been her.
The deer had been Guinevere. Anguish locked his throat. He had come so close to killing the woman he loved. And Morgana had set it up. If that arrow had gone through, if it had worked-wait.
“Mithian hit you. She was ready to claim victory, but then-I found it.”
Mithian, that was her name. His new---princess. “Found what?” Gwen dully asked.
Arthur reached down, feeling her trying to stop him, but he gently pushed her hand away, bringing it out from the pocket of his breeches, the lot of them, including the one he found in the forest that day. It was why he had to chance heading up to his chambers before he left Camelot. He couldn’t leave without his mother’s rings. Without the ring he gave her. “This.”
Gwen looked down at what he held in his hand , the ring of silver glimmer, tightly woven, mingled with a frayed leather cord, the one she had worn it upon after the banishment. “I thought I lost it forever.”
Arthur shook his head, finding her hand again, holding it tight within his. “You were hit.” He recounted.
She nodded. “I was. But then when I woke in the morning, Merlin was there.”
“Merlin?” Arthur asked with bewilderment.
“Yes. And he spends so much time with Gaius. He must have taken care of me in the night because I was much better after. The arrow was removed and everything.”
Arthur let out a sigh of relief, tangled into wonder. “Merlin took care of you.”
“Yes.”
“How did he know that it was you if you resembled a deer?”
Gwen shook her head. “I don’t know. All I know is when he found me, the spell must have worn off.”
“He didn’t bring you back.”
“No.” Gwen frowned. “I didn’t want to go back. You banished me. I had no right to return to Camelot. I did tell Merlin about Agravaine’s plan, how he was working with Morgana and Helios behind your back. Merlin wanted me to return with him, be there to tell you what I heard, but I couldn’t do it, so he advised me to head to Ealdor, stay with his mother.”
“You didn’t go.”
Gwen shook her head. “I was afraid you didn’t believe the warning, and I was right. You didn’t.”
“Merlin warned me that they were planning something but he never said anything about you!” Arthur insisted hotly.
“I told him not to. You banished me, wanted nothing to do with me.”
That truth dragged him down now. After seeing her with Lancelot he wanted her out of his life. But-
“What happened of her?”
“Who?”
Gwen swallowed tightly. “Your princess.”
Arthur shook his head, feeling pain not from his injuries, but deep within his heart. “I don’t know. She left. I sent her away with her land she laid claim to. It was the least I could do after not giving her the commitment she desired and that I at first promised.” He looked directly into Guinevere’s eyes, wondering what depth of horror lived there. “You must have been scared.”
Gwen lowered her head, upset that he had almost married someone else after he banished her. A princess. It made her feel even dirtier, unkempt. “I was. And ashamed.”
Her voice trembled. Arthur pulled at her hand, whispered, “Come…”
She resisted at first so he pulled harder. “Guin-
His voice broke on her name. She felt her resolve fall apart. She let her body fall down to his chest, attentive enough to not touch upon his deepest wounds. Her cheek lay upon his stomach, where he was not injured. Her fingers clasped his damp skin, a mingling of sweat and the water she had bathed him with last night.
Arthur lifted his hand, feeling the curls of her hair coil around his fingers. They took him as their prisoner; he didn’t try to escape. Nothing really was resolved. He had a web of emotions coursing through his heart and tingles of pain in his body, but for the moment he couldn’t let her go, needed her near.
His other hand still held the leather bound ring. She touched upon it, feeling his skin reassuringly against hers as they lay together.
His eyes closed wearily. So much to say. To do. So much-
Let it rest for the moment.
Her eyes shut too.
He whispered,
“How did I get here?”
She breathed in his scent: damp skin, of the earth, and yet still it could not take away the rich noble masculine aura that always followed him. “I brought you.”
“How?”
She stated it quietly, efficiently. “I pulled your body into this cave, hidden into the wood, where I have been staying. An answer to your earlier question of where we are. It’s just far enough away from Camelot to have allowed me to hide, close enough to keep an eye upon the kingdom. I saw a sword upon the ground, your blade I believe. I struck the man, who wanted to hurt you, with it.”
Arthur brushed his lips against her forehead, tears forming at his lids that made it too hard to speak at first.
And then,
“Guinevere-
She gently cut through. “You need to sleep Arthur.”
He pressed his lips to her forehead again.
“You sleep with me then.”
She gave no counter.
***
Will be continued in Five Enflamed by the Truth of Emotion and the Flesh
Excerpt: Looking up past the trees pikes, he saw it, the smoke.
“Camelot…” he whispered.
Sounds of movement came, horses if he wasn’t mistaken. He started to walk further, slowly. Something came down upon him, forced him to the ground. A hand pressed against his mouth, cutting off his yell.
***
Credit: The song that Gwen sang to Arthur: When the Nightingale Sings (Harley MS. 1310) // The lyrics I posted are the middle English translation, found at this wonderful site: Luminarium // You can find the modern English translation there too.
Thank you for reading. Feedback is adored. Your comments throughout have been wonderful and I appreciate them so much! This story is coming to its end (previously written, but still going through edits) and so I will try to do a faster update next time, thanks!
Rating: R, mild. But this is the bulk of what warrants it. I didn’t want to sugarcoat the brutalities of battle.
Sorry for the wait again! This is just usually that busy time of year and I participated in the merlinreversebb . It was a lot of fun, but I ended up writing this long long story, lol. Please be sure to check out the beautiful artwork for it by nickygabriel (here at my LJ and at hers too) and if you have a chance hope you can give the story a read (Fragile Peace). It has lots of AG with lots of Merlin, Morgana and Mordred too.
Anyway, thanks for your patience as always and your lovely comments last time for this story!
Rest of my notes/disclaimer with the first part…
***
Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow
Four: The Burning Fever of Love
Departing Camelot on horseback, each knight able to catch a horse that was fleeing from the burning barn, they traveled underneath the shadowy moon, coming to the dark density of the woodland. The only thing that cut through the black was the red and orange patches littering the sky, a byproduct of the attack on Camelot. They turned their heads from one side to the other, searching, as there was a chance that if Arthur was injured when he fled the kingdom, he may have stopped to rest in the forest.
Still uncertain why he fled so urgently, they were concerned too about Elyan’s capture, for Morgana could be truly ruthless. Some comfort came from the fact that Elyan was strong of mind, as all knights of Camelot had to be. Arthur taught them not only about physical combat, but had also showed them that there were ways for soldiers to persevere mentally through the most heinous situations if they calmed their fears.
Hearing something within all the quiet, Gwaine gestured to Percival. Quietly they brought their horses to a halt and climbed down from their backs. Listening for a moment then they used their hands, giving voiceless signals, barring a few words.
“Over there.”
The bristle of noise came again from within the gathering oaks and ascending pines. It was possible it was an animal, that implying its own kind of danger; if it was a person it could be one of the enemy fighters. They had managed so far to avoid Helios’s armies. This could be one hiding in hopes of an ambush. Each was ready, sword in hand.
Percival reached within the trees, grasping hold of an arm and pulling the person out swiftly. Both he and Gwaine reacted with shock at the dirtied and frightened little girl.
“Sarya?”
***
“Arthur…” Gwen whispered again.
Her fingers lifted away some of his sweating hairs from his brow, noticing with angered dismay the speckles of blood at his scalp’s line. It got worse she soon realized as she looked down at the blood soaked ash tunic. From his body came no movement, even as she said his name repeatedly. Lowering her fingers she found the first good sign, his pulse beating well enough to reassure her that for the moment he was just unconscious.
Her wayward curls, for so long not groomed properly, fell over her eyes. Restlessly Gwen pushed them backward and looked over at the man she had killed with the sword she found on the ground. She was almost certain the arsenal was Arthur’s.
The man was lying with his face down, a dense patch of blood under his abdomen, getting little of her sympathy. She had only heard bits at the end, saw trickles of what he did to Arthur, but it had been enough to fuel her anger to take him out with just one blow to his vitals. Perhaps now deceased his attire and weaponry could be useful.
As she approached him she heard it, the distinct sound of horse’s hooves stamping and stomping upon the woodland ground. Gwen ceased her movements. If they found their fallen comrade they would find her too. And with Arthur unconscious he couldn’t protect himself. Debating for a handful of seconds on what to do first, she came up with a plan of action.
She would pull Arthur’s body within a cluster of foliage. Then she would drag the fallen man into an area with fallen trees from a previous wind storm in which some of the earth had formed into a hole about three feet deep, and cover him with forest debris. Finally she would pull Arthur to her place of shelter for the past few days.
None of it would be an easy task. Her meals of late had been sparse and barely nourishing, leaving her weak physically. After being hunted in the wood by Helios’s men and Morgana, she was riddled with bruises and scrapes, her body sore in various places. So her one friend would be adrenaline.
Bending down, she slipped her hands under Arthur’s arms, grasping tightly at his armpits and heaving vigorously. Her limbs gave ache right away. Arthur ate well and topped upon that was his prevalent muscled build from years of fighting and training. Ignoring her discomfort, she toiled with purpose until finally she got him to the cluster of trees.
“Okay…now him…” She let out through taxed breaths, her chest rising and falling rapidly from her efforts.
The man of Helios’s army was even heftier than Arthur. She dropped him twice when her sweating dirtied hands slipped away from his stoutness. There would be no time to use his outer clothing or weaponry she surmised now, as getting both her and Arthur out of the open was the most important thing. She’d drop the man in the hole, cover him up swiftly, and then rush back to her king.
It took much strain of her muscles to get him to the hole, but finally she achieved it, throwing some forest debris upon his body.
Standing afterward, she lifted her eyes, spotting above the treetops the orange red clouds of smoke lifting into the sky. It gave her no doubt that Camelot was under attack, hence the reason for Arthur’s wounds. What she didn’t get was why he would flee in nothing more than a simple tunic and without his knights. She couldn’t think of any scenario where Arthur would allow himself to be chased into the wood, no guard in attendance.
Feeling the vibrations now through the earth, hearing the sounds of trampled nature, Gwen shook away her thoughts. They would soon be here.
Panting heavily, she ran swiftly back to Arthur.
***
They knew Sarya as the young daughter of a peasant man that Sir Paul had working for him. Now, both Percival and Gwaine were stunned to see her so deep within the wood. Although many had probably fled Camelot this night, it gravely concerned them that she seemed to be alone.
After getting an explanation from her they understood her situation and finally began to comprehend what made their king depart Camelot. He was protecting Sarya of course, after those heathens killed Sir Paul and grievously injured her parents. As she came to the end of her story the adrenaline that must have kept her emotions in check, wavered, and the tears started to fall down her face. Coming forward, maybe a hefty giant size of a man, but a soft soul, Percival reached for her, soothing with his somewhat clumsy words, and tendering her tangles of hair with his big hands.
“It’s alright Sarya. I’m sure your parents are well. The king made certain of that.”
Squatting down, Gwaine agreed, rubbing the girl’s back as he exchanged a troubled look with Percival about the king’s possible predicament. “Yes, Sarya. Percival’s right. Now you said that the king left after you. Did you see the way he went at all?”
Sarya moved away from Percival’s gentle hold just enough to look up at Gwaine, his expression kind as he held at her back. “No Sir Gwaine. I’m not entirely sure. I only saw him ride away from where I did and then I saw him no more. There was a terrible man following him. I hope King Arthur is alright.”
Percival and Gwaine exchanged another tight look, concern drilling through both their minds as Arthur was without a doubt a warrior fighter, but injured as badly as it sounded he was, what kind of fight could he put up against a man like that?
They needed to talk this out. Feeling in his pocket, finding some bits of carrot, something most riders carried, Gwaine gestured meaningfully toward the girl. “Sarya, will you feed the horses? I’d be most grateful.”
The girl gave a glimmer of a smile, heading to her task with solid purpose, getting a reprieve from the horribleness of this night.
Keeping a careful watch on her and guarding the area with their eyes for potential enemy fighters, Percival and Gwaine talked, Percival starting to wonder if maybe they should go back, resulting in Gwaine’s rebuttal.
“We can’t do that. Morgana already has Elyan. We go back, she takes us too.”
Tightly grimacing, Percival argued. “I can fight her. Can fight any man, definitely can face up to a woman.”
“One that’s a sorceress?” Gwaine asked pointedly. “She’s powerful Percival. She’s not going to stop at anything. I can go against any brawn too, but her magic-
“If she has Arthur though, Gwaine, we’re leaving our king to the worst fate. You heard what Sarya said, and Helios too. Arthur was leaning in his saddle, barely able to ride. If they captured him…then we’re abandoning our sovereign. What if she kills him? We need to go back. It is our duty and beyond that, Arthur is our friend.”
Strongly Gwaine shook his head, even as there was no ease in his protest. “No. Morgana won’t kill him right away. She’s not like that. She’d rather humiliate him first, let him see the worst. And maybe he wasn’t caught. Maybe he is on his way to Ealdor. Percival, we go back and we get captured. That will help nothing. There’s Sarya too. We need to make sure she’s safe. Arthur would want that. If he’s not in Ealdor once we arrive, then at least we can strengthen our forces there and be back in Camelot in a few days.”
“And what if she does have him now and they kill Arthur? What then, Gwaine?”
“We’d be no help to him anyway if she captured us. Percival we only have one choice. You know that. I’m not saying it’s an easy one to take, but we can’t leave Sarya. The best way to do this is for all of us to go to Ealdor. And hope he’s there.”
Dully knowing Gwaine was right, Percival slowly nodded his head. “Let’s go now then.”
***
It was as she was towing Arthur she heard the increasingly thundering sounds of the horse’s hooves, felt the stronger pounding vibrations under her feet. Gwen had no choice but to crouch down with his slack body behind the bushes and trees. Bringing her hair away from her ear, she watched and listened in as the men, four of them, dismounted their horses. The woman in the black dress behind them made her almost gasp aloud.
Morgana.
“You let him escape before. See to it that doesn’t happen this time or there will be consequences.”
“Yes my lady.” The voices came back a bit disorderly. They were not as well trained and coordinated as Camelot guard, but they were fierce fighters for sure with a slew of impressively frightening weapons hanging from their belts. Gwen fretted now what that could mean. If they found her, she could maybe hurt one man, but all four and with Morgana a sorceress? No. She needed a miracle.
Hearing a weak moan, she turned her eyes to Arthur. His tunic was soaked in blood. If left unattended to, he could die. Ripping away a piece of the bizarre outfit Helios had her wear, careful to keep the sound from carrying, she brought it to his bloodied skin, pressing down firmly to squelch the blood’s flow.
“Search this area well and everything surrounding it. I want not a single patch of land left unturned. Your welfare depends upon the finding of Arthur Pendragon. Hunt like a wolf would. I want him FOUND.”
Gwen shivered at that, Morgana’s words so intense and threatening that the men under her command would not stop until her orders were carried out precisely. She was just a few feet away, barely hidden by the trees. She could try to move to that hole she put their other member in, but the noise would alert them.
She looked up to the fiery skies, silently praying.
Holding still for long moments of time she felt it as they neared, the heat of breath cutting through the evening’s cold from one of the men. It made her grasp the sword tighter with intent.
In Camelot she had order and civility. Here there was none of that. Morgana had turned her into a hunted beast, literally, when she gave her the body of a wild deer. That brought on alterations to Gwen’s demeanor since. Even though she was not at all bloodthirsty, she would take a life to save the man she loved. And after what Morgana did, she would hold little remorse for her actions of survival.
She lifted the blade parallel to her breast, prepared to thrust and make contact if need be. It happened then though, like an odd miracle that heard her earlier prayers. As the man started to pull away the brush, she heard it, and so did they.
“What is that?” The man asked, lowering his hand. They all turned to look, Morgana’s eyes scrutinizing with the sharpness of a needle.
“The sound of a horse. Could be more..” She whispered meaningfully. “Nearing. That must be him. Hurry!”
They all climbed back upon their mounts, rapidly turning them toward the sound, riding away with angry kicks of dirt from the horse’s hooves.
Once they were gone, Gwen let out the breath she’d been holding, lowering the sword with relief, ever so grateful for the distraction. Now finally she could get both of them to shelter.
Up again upon her feet, she tugged Arthur’s bleeding body, ignoring the bolts of pain viciously traversing through her arms.
***
It was as Gwaine, Percival and Sarya were riding swiftly through the forest, while checking for any sign of their king, they heard the sudden rumble of horses moving behind them. Gwaine urged his horse closer to Sarya and the mare she was riding, grasping the young girl’s waist tightly. She shrieked, unsettled by the rash feel of his hands. Gwaine barely had time to calm her before he heard a distinct voice clearly. He and Percival exchanged whitened looks.
“Morgana.”
“Yeah, come on. Sorry Sarya we got to leave your horse!” Gwaine pressed forward, keeping the girl firmly against him, riding his stallion at a dangerous and yet necessary pace. Percival followed rapidly as the abandoned mare gave a shrill whinny, running in the other direction.
Even if she wasn’t meant to be a decoy, she became a powerful one now. Hearing the clamor of her retreat, Morgana and the men from Helios’s army chased her down, not realizing it was just one horse without a rider they were pursuing.
***
“Aaaahhh…” Gwen grunted, slipping on a patch of forest growth while tugging Arthur’s limp body.
She managed to keep herself from falling, getting to the cave’s entrance. Bending her knees, because it had a low ceiling, she pulled Arthur inside with one last aching force of her arms. Then, exhausted from it all, she sagged against the rocky wall.
***
Morgana’s expression was livid, which made Percival smile just a tad as he hid with his horse, keeping the animal calm and preoccupied with bits of carrot. If they had planned it all, it couldn’t have gone better. Letting the mare go had worked in their favor. Morgana and Helios’s men had heatedly pursued it and now seemed to be realizing their blunder.
From his hiding spot, crouched deep within the oaks and pines, Percival listened in cautiously. It was risky holding back for sure, but after a bit of following Gwaine’s lead he had done so to see why Morgana and Helios’s men cut short their pursuit. If need be it could have also served as a diversion, allowing Gwaine to get Sarya away from the danger. Now it seemed that wasn’t yet necessary, for their foes made a crucial error.
“They had someone with them.” Morgana stated.
It was loud enough that Percival could covertly hear her.
“Maybe that’s why Arthur left so quickly. We know he was hurt, but it seems he was also protecting someone.”
Through the tangled oak leaves and pine branches, he could see her mouth tighten to a grimace. It stayed that way for a moment or two before her eyes brightened with thought.
“Okay. This is what we’re going to do. You two head that way and look for any trail they may have taken. Be careful though. If they know they’re being pursued they may try to confuse the route they took.”
Percival smiled further at that comment. Indeed they had and this little mare made it even more unclear.
“And you two keep searching this area of the wood, advancing further if need be. I’ll search with you for a bit, and then I need to get back to Camelot and deal with our distinguished prisoner, Sir Elyan, see what he has to say about all of this” The name of the knight was spoken with mocking. Percival had to fight the urge to not jump out of the trees and swing his sword at her.
One thing lightened his mood. She had no idea either where Arthur was. Ah, injured yes, but their king was safe.
It wasn’t until the sound of their retreating horses had faded completely, Percival mounted his horse again. He had to catch up with Gwaine.
***
“Oh these wounds are deep. And your skin, it’s hot, dry. A fever’s growing within you.” Gwen lamented, tearing away the last bits of Arthur’s tunic.
He was bleeding more than she liked, some dried, yes, but too much still flowing. She tore at more of her purple glimmering pants, that hideous outfit Helios had her wear. Applying further pressure where it was needed, she worked to stop the bleeding completely.
This tiny cave had been her home for days now. She found it after Merlin came to see her and suggested she go to Ealdor. Hunith and the people of Ealdor would be kind and noble enough to graciously provide her with shelter she was certain.
She had been held back though by the foreboding fear that Camelot was in danger, a fear that had come true this night. When she saw Merlin she told him what Morgana, Helios and Agravaine had planned, to take Camelot by using its secret layout. It seemed the warning had fallen upon deaf ears for the king, this the fallout.
What was surprising was that he was alone. It would be the duty of every knight to protect their sovereign. Merlin too would not leave Arthur’s side. Something must have happened to have separated them, to have made Arthur flee to the forest.
“Mmmm…hh…mmm…”
As she moved within the cave, to soak up the dampness in its rear corner, she heard his weak moans. She tore off another lower piece of her pants and dipped it into the shallow water. Then making her way back, she lowered the cool wet cloth upon his hot forehead. “Shhhh….rest. I’m here. You’re not alone.”
It was a harshly isolated environment they both were in, something she had been thrust into for almost a week now, and even prior to that. Days before the cave she had taken refuge in a village Gaius told her about. Although the people had been mostly kind, they were also quiet, hard working. None of them cared to start up solid friendships as their lives were simple, centered on survival of their families. No matter. After being forced to leave Camelot in such disgrace, she didn’t want to associate much anyway, keeping to herself as she did her work. Now, his company was the first lasting kind in a while.
Running the wet material over Arthur’s face, down his bared chest, the tunic ripped severely enough to expose it, she recalled something. He had promised something to her long ago, before they started any kind of relationship, that her house would always be hers. A day before their wedding was supposed to have taken place, he had forced her to leave that same house, and the only kingdom she ever called home.
How vastly things could change.
She knew there were some women who would not care to help a man who banished them. There would be others who would be so indulgent they’d weep away their life away after losing such man and beg him for forgiveness. Gwen put herself in the middle. A part of her didn’t want to trust, while the other cared not to push upon him any blame. It was simple really. She loved him. Banishment couldn’t cease that. Her heart had ached without him and was aching still to see him now so fevered, so sick.
With that his body started to thrash wildly, almost as if complaining at physically being ignored as she mused. Typical of nobility, Arthur rarely did well with not being paid to mind. It would be amusing if he wasn’t still losing blood and if the bulk of his skin wasn’t so dry and hot like a burning desert. It was hard to keep his body down with her limbs so taxed, but she did her best, tears filling her eyes.
“Stop.”
She brought the wet rag further down his chest, soaking his body with cool moisture. “Don’t move so. You’ll hurt yourself.” The cavern was full of spiked rock that if you moved too suddenly you could cut yourself upon. She wanted no such harm to come to him. She had endured enough of it her first nights, receiving not so pretty irritating scrapes.
As nothing seemed to work to calm him, Gwen thought for a moment of the story Gaius told her the night before she departed Camelot. Wrapped within it was her own distant memory, always so hazy, and yet now she could feel it swirling more evidently.
As Arthur’s body thrashed again violently, she firmly put her palms down upon his shoulders, shuddering at the boiling heat there coming from his skin. She wouldn’t let go. She’d let it burn her own palms as long as needed to get him to calm. Parting her half blistered lips, the forest not all that kind, she hoarsely began to sing it, her voice not used to being utilized so much since the banishment, even more-so since Morgana’s beastly enchantment thrust her away from most civilization.
When the nyhtegale singes,
The wodes waxen grene,
Lef ant gras ant blosme springes
In Averyl, Y wene ;
Ant love is to myn herte gon
With one spere so kene,
Nyht ant day my blod hit drynkes
Myn herte deth me ten
She sang it in the old language, the one her memory held. It was how her mother used to sing it, with those words of times ago. Feeling him thrash some more, she didn’t give up the song, just brought her hands under his bared shoulders. Gwen pulled until Arthur’s head was resting upon her lap. Then wiping further at his chest to cool him as much as possible, she sang another part.
Ich have loved al this yer
That Y may love na more;
Ich have siked moni syk,
Lemmon, for thin ore,
Me nis love neuer the ner,
Ant that me reweth sore;
Suete lemmon, thench on me,
Ich have loved the yore.
She felt his violent movements lessening. Good, Gwen thought. It was working to calm him, similar to how when they were just babes her presence seemed to ease his sobs for his mother.
Gwen chilled though as she heard it.
Voices of a search party. They were looking for him still. She stopped singing. Soon enough Arthur’s wild thrashing started again. She grimaced tightly at it.
Too dangerous it was to sing to him without the possibility of being heard. If Morgana found him, Arthur would have no chance and neither would Camelot. But his writhing was too precarious.
Bringing her head down so her lips moved right above his face, Gwen sang ever so quietly so only he could hear. As she did, his body’s movements lost their vigor.
Suete lemmon, Y preye thee,
Of love one speche;
Whil Y lyve in world so wyde
Other nulle Y seche.
With thy love, my suete leof,
My blis thou mihtes eche;
A suete cos of thy mouth
Mihte be my leche.
The lyrics of the song held within certain sadness, a shadowed effect of much of the music of the time. But to contrast the sobering lyrics the melody was sweetly uplifting. Gwen felt that singing it so intimately, softly, lessened her fears of being found.
Suete lemmon, Y preye theew
Of a love-bene:
Yef thou me lovest, ase men says,
Lemmon, as I wene,
Ant yef hit thi wille be,
Thou loke that hit be sene;
So muchel Y thenke vpon the
That al y waxe grene.
Arthur’s fever was still faintly there, but he was barely losing blood anymore, and breaking out a sweat where earlier his skin had been burning with dryness. She shakily hoped that meant the worst of his sickness was passing. Before she sang the last verse, Gwen brought to his face sprinkles of water, gently pressing it into his skin to keep him as cool as possible. The cave wasn’t terribly warm, something she lamented most nights, but didn’t mind much now as it helped to lower his temperature.
Bituene Lyncolne ant Lyndeseye,
Norhamptoun ant Lounde,
Ne wot I non so fayr a may,
As y go fore ybounde.
Suete lemmon, Y preye the
Thou lovie me a stounde;
Y wole mone my song
On wham that hit ys on ylong.
With the song complete, Gwen rested her cheek upon the top of Arthur’s head, feeling the hot sweat rained through his hair. Tenderly she stroked his chest with wet cooled hands, whispering, “You will not die. I will not let you. It is not your time. I have always believed in you. Always loved you. I will do all I can to take this fever from you, to keep your wounds from infecting, but you must hold on. You must be strong. Your people need you to live and be the ruler, the king they love. Now whatever has passed, it does not matter. Arthur you must get well.
You must.”
She sobbed against him, her body shaking over his. It had been so long since she had seen him, and now that she was once again, she was committed to one thing.
He would open his eyes…
And see her.
***
“Gwaine!”
Percival called out. When his fellow knight didn’t slow down, Percival yelled again, this time getting the other’s attention.
“What is it?” Gwaine asked after stopping his horse, holding to Sarya’s waist, noticing that Percival was jumpy to say more.
Catching his breath first, after a fast furious ride, Percival told him how he had seen Morgana and her men, found out they were chasing Sarya’s abandoned horse, and that he knew for sure now Morgana did not have the king.
To the last part Gwaine breathed a sigh of relief and some of the tension elevated from Sarya’s face, the unknown fate of her parents still bothering her.
Understanding she was fearful, Gwaine tried to reassure. “Sarya, we will find the king. Maybe he’s already on his way to Ealdor. And your parents will be alright too. You’ll see them again.”
She said nothing, just nodded her head with as much hope she could muster. Gwaine and Percival exchanged looks, wishing they knew without a doubt that her parents would be alright. But it was all as up in the air as Elyan’s fate was. Maybe even the king’s.
Nevertheless, the important thing was not to get captured themselves. They started their horses up again, knowing it was too soon to stop somewhere to rest. They’d have to keep riding for at least a few more hours to make sure Morgana and Helios’s men didn’t catch up to them.
***
Merlin, Gaius and Leon had stopped to rest in the wood. Then as morning dawn approached they started their ride again to Ealdor.
Now as the sun had yet to rise and the dawning mist sat square in the sky, they came to the rural little village. Merlin felt his breath alter as he came to the place of his birth. It was rare he was able to visit and even though the circumstances now were not good ones at all, it filled his heart to think he’d be seeing his mother.
He looked back to Gaius, noticing that the elder man’s face was wearied from their long ride. He’d talk to his mother about setting up a cot for him.
As he neared his house, some of those he knew reacted, displaying their excitement right away and asking if the king was with him. Merlin smiled at that. Arthur was popular with most of the villagers after his assistance in defeating Kanen and his accomplices. Merlin had to tell them that Arthur was not with him this time, at least not yet. He was hoping that he was safe and would be arriving soon.
Left alone to approach his small simple stone house, he could just make out the familiar form of his mother, her back to him as she tended to the farmed land. Like the rest, she was up ever so early.
“Mother…” He whispered.
She turned around, her eyes wide with surprise, before a smile of joy curved at her lips. Merlin watched it, thinking what he always did, that his mother was her loveliest when happy. Thrilled at seeing her again, he rushed, feeling her rush to him with matching delighted haste.
“Oh Merlin…” He felt the solidity of her arms wrapping around his battled taxed body. Letting out a content sigh, Merlin relaxed for a long moment. All his thoughts ceased as they hugged.
Soon enough though, he recalled the urgency of his visit. He regretfully broke away from her, bringing his hand upon his mother’s shoulder with purpose.
“What is it?” Hunith asked him with concern in her eyes, touching her son’s cheek. Then seeing the two men behind him, one ever so familiar, she questioned, “Merlin?”
Shaking his head, Merlin told her that it would take a while to explain, but that the most important part of it was Camelot was under attack. She gasped at that as he asked her, “Is Gwen here?”
Hunith faced him with confusion, making Merlin sigh. “Another story that will take some time to relate, but suffice to say she was banished by Arthur. I got to see her again and I suggested she come here.
Has…she come Mother?” He was afraid he already knew the answer, receiving it with certainty as Hunith shook her head.
“No Merlin. I haven’t seen her since the last time you all came, years ago.”
Dully Merlin nodded his head, wondering worriedly where she could be, and where was Arthur.
***
Darkness.
That’s what his eyes opened to, an environment of inky blackness except for the crack of light that came from the opening in front of him. Barely even so, mostly it was a tiny hole of illumination. Getting a glimpse of the craggy rock on the walls and underneath him, he was certain that he was not inside any building.
Dampness soaked through his skin. He was wet, cool and wet. His body ached, needles of pain plaguing it, especially his chest.
And…
He was not alone.
Someone was sleeping at his side, a small sun tinted hand spread out over his heart. That almost in itself was enough for him to know who it belonged to. The clincher was the tight ringlet of curls tickling his shoulder.
But this couldn’t be.
How was she here? How was he here…wherever here was?
It was crucial he figure this out as he didn’t like situations of uncertainty.
However, his fingers had another strong desire. They always tempted, her curls, and it had been days now since he had touched them last.
His feelings a hot mess, having her right next to him, he couldn’t help but drive his fingers within her hair. It was tangled, much of its softness gone.
It didn’t matter.
“Guinevere?” He whispered hoarsely, unable to get his voice to its usual stronger timbre.
It was too quiet, gaining him no response. His throat was dry, his vocal chords shaky, probably having to do with his injuries.
Blearily he tried to remember where he got them from in the first place, his mind slowly recalling the violent events. Morgana, Agravaine and Helios led an attack on Camelot, his uncle proving to be treacherous. Vast amounts of the Southron Army invaded. Fires blazed. Innocent people died. Lives were threatened including his and…Sarya.
Did she make it?
What about his knights? Gaius? Merlin?
It made him restless, having no idea where any of them were, if anyone had been captured. Question after question. He wanted to know how he got here. He wanted her to wake, talk to him. It was selfish not letting her sleep, but as he was royalty he didn’t usually wait for answers.
“Guinevere…” He tried again, but his voice still barely carried, not stirring her at all. Nor did his restlessness deplete at all. It felt wrong to be sleeping, lying down while his kingdom was being taken. It was his duty to protect his people, to fight back.
“Guinevere.”
He brought more force to his voice, getting it out this time in a way that touched her ears. Feeling her movements, he waited with little patience, breath fast, anxiousness filling his body.
It wasn’t some mirage or trick of his mind, right? He wasn’t hallucinating…
As she started to lift her head, he let go of her tangled curls and received his answer. Even in the low light her eyes glowed like dark onyx.
“It is you.” He whispered wonderingly.
Slowly Gwen nodded her head. “Yes.”
Sometime after singing to him, during the threatening sounds of pursuit, when finally his skin seemed cool enough and the bleeding had stopped, she had fallen asleep. Now with rivulets of emotion, she reached out, touching his hair, fingering to the line of his scalp. The night previous it had burned. Now it was cool, damp.
She wanted to keep her fingers there, but after all that had transpired she wasn’t certain, feeling impelled to explain her actions as she lowered her hand. “You had a fever last night. I was worried so…” The words didn’t come out that clearly. She fumbled on them uncertainly. “I did all I could to bring it down.”
Well that explained why his skin was so wet. His tongue caught in his throat. Arthur wasn’t sure how you thank the woman you sent away, that you still loved, and yet she betrayed you. So wearily he just nodded his head.
It was like regressing to their most awkward days, making Gwen slide back the short distance to bring her shoulders against the cave’s wall opposite him.
As she did, Arthur took it in with advanced observance, what he had only gotten a glimmer of before, as that crack of light shined more strongly upon her now. What she wore left little to the imagination, exposing her flat stomach, but for some transparent slap of fabric, shimmering everywhere else, all the way up to where it enhanced the commencing curve of her breasts. Sensual it was, maybe, but also plainly hideous, like nothing he’d ever seen her in, and even if she could make it work in her favor, it made his teeth grit edgily to see her this way.
“What are you wearing?”
Gwen looked down at the wild attire Helios had her wear, self-consciously covering herself with the leftover tattered pieces of Arthur’s tunic. “It’s a long story.”
Arthur’s eyebrows rose, his hand coming outward, as if to tell her he was more than ready to hear it.
Gwen grimaced. It was obvious he wasn’t going to relent. “After I was banished from Camelot…”
The reminder made his jaw clench. It had been his decision to banish her, better than having her executed, but still it had been no easy solution.
Not so much for her either.
“I went to live in a village far enough away from here.”
Arthur nodded and asked with a voice that was a bit more back to regularity, “Where is here anyway?”
Gwen shook her head. “I’ll tell you in a moment.”
“Fine.” He stated with more curtness than intended. His emotions on edge, anger was at the finest perimeter. Maybe it had to do with seeing her like this, wearing whatever thing she was wearing. The Guinevere he knew never dressed wantonly.
For a moment he remembered painfully the kisses he witnessed and wondered if that maybe had something to do with it, but then he pushed such a stupid thought to the back of his mind. No matter what happened with her and Lancelot, she wasn’t some common har-
Oh, he would not take it there, never referring to any woman in such a crude way, let alone the woman who he still-
Ah.
Seeing the stark lines of agitation on his face, and yet not knowing what barbed war was going on in his mind, Gwen continued. “Whilst I was living in that village, it came under attack.”
Leaving his issues with her outfit, Arthur tried to sit up now, the sharp pain in his chest forcing a moan past his lips. Soon the pressure of her palm was against his shoulder as she reprimanded him with acute care.
“Don’t move. You were hurt badly last night. You need to lie still.”
Arthur fidgeted, still trying to move his body, but it was no use. Each bit of effort caused him more discomfort and caused her to frown at him with fiercer disapproval. He gave in and Gwen continued.
“Rest assured. I was not hurt. Unfortunately many of the villagers were. The attack came from Helios-
Arthur startled at that. Helios was the war hungry king who aided Morgana. She had the vicious barbaric Southron Army in her command thanks to him. “Helios is working with Morgana. He helped her take Camelot, aided further by my traitorous uncle.” Arthur hinged on the last words painfully and angrily.
Gwen just nodded her head. “I know. Helios actually liked me so he brought me to his…place of hiding and gave me these clothes.” Gwen related, gesturing to what she was wearing.
Arthur felt anger boil in him at that, burns of concern flaming. “If he-
Gwen already knew where his line of thought was going as she had wondered too when being taken if Helios’s intent was to use her for such…indecencies. “He didn’t. He had no time to even if he planned it. Honestly he was not cruel to me at all. Like I said, he seemed to prefer my company. He simply invited me to dinner. However, it was cut short.”
“Why?”
“He had a visitor. Morgana.”
Arthur closed his eyes for the blink of a second, feeling waves of stupidity for what he should have known and seen. It wasn’t like he was some naïve young prince just sat upon the throne. “Did she see you?”
Gwen shook her head. “No. But I heard what they spoke of, that they were planning an attack on Camelot with Agravaine’s assistance using the layouts of the castle. It was then I fled, knowing Camelot needed to be warned somehow.”
Once again he tried to sit up. As he did Gwen whispered ‘no’, pushing down upon Arthur’s shoulder with her palm. “You can’t move.”
This time Arthur fought her, tensely lifting his hand, finding some of her curls and holding tightly to them, so much so that she winced just a bit before he loosened his hold. It was shocking to hear she knew about the planned attack before it occurred. “You could have been killed! Did they catch up with you?”
“They didn’t.” Gwen reassured, before she added another horror. “Morgana did.”
There was a time Arthur would think nothing ill of that. After all, Morgana had always treated Guinevere more as a friend than her maidservant, displaying grave concern when she was taken by Hengist, insisting that she be found.
But somewhere along the way things changed ever so darkly. Morgana had no care for any of them anymore. She blamed the sins of his father on all of them. “What did she do?”
Gwen lowered her head.
That only brought up Arthur’s anxiety. Flattening his bared elbow against the cave’s ground, ignoring the prickles of pain from the jagged rock, he grimaced tightly, endeavoring to lift his upper body enough to touch. His hand shaking from the rivulets of tension, he held fast as much he could to Guinevere’s cheek. “What happened? Tell me.”
Gwen shook her head, knowing he was putting too much stress on his hurt body. She tried to push him back, but he held on. Gwen hesitated heavily. When Morgana turned her into that animal it not only hurt her. It humiliated her. And at the time Arthur was with that princess. She saw them joking, enjoying each other’s company…
The tears that suddenly started falling down her face stunned him. He didn’t want to see her like this, holding back something so horrible she wouldn’t tell him.
“Guinevere…” He kept touching her cheek, trying to get her to look up, not caring about his discomfort as his elbow burned from the tension placed upon it. “Please.”
Shaking her head now, she whispered softly, finally showing him her eyes. “Lie down.”
Stubbornly he didn’t heed.
Her voice flooded with emotion, she caringly told him again, “Arthur, lie back down.”
The use of his given name did it. Not everyone always called him by it and only she stated it in such a fashion that got him to listen unwaveringly. So finally with her assistance he slowly lay back down, keeping a tight hold of her hand all the while.
Letting out a deep sigh, she recounted that day. “Morgana enchanted me so that I appeared as a wild animal, a deer.”
A deer? Arthur’s breath held sickeningly. A deer, prey for wild animals, for hunters? “How could-
Gwen quietly interrupted, having a hard enough time already getting it out without him saying anything. “Then she left me in the wood for…”
Heaven, no.
Guinevere confirmed it for him.
“You were hunting that day with a princess and-
The rest of the words faded in his mind, his heart beating too rapidly. Feeling her shaking, Arthur squeezed her hand.
It had been her.
The deer had been Guinevere. Anguish locked his throat. He had come so close to killing the woman he loved. And Morgana had set it up. If that arrow had gone through, if it had worked-wait.
“Mithian hit you. She was ready to claim victory, but then-I found it.”
Mithian, that was her name. His new---princess. “Found what?” Gwen dully asked.
Arthur reached down, feeling her trying to stop him, but he gently pushed her hand away, bringing it out from the pocket of his breeches, the lot of them, including the one he found in the forest that day. It was why he had to chance heading up to his chambers before he left Camelot. He couldn’t leave without his mother’s rings. Without the ring he gave her. “This.”
Gwen looked down at what he held in his hand , the ring of silver glimmer, tightly woven, mingled with a frayed leather cord, the one she had worn it upon after the banishment. “I thought I lost it forever.”
Arthur shook his head, finding her hand again, holding it tight within his. “You were hit.” He recounted.
She nodded. “I was. But then when I woke in the morning, Merlin was there.”
“Merlin?” Arthur asked with bewilderment.
“Yes. And he spends so much time with Gaius. He must have taken care of me in the night because I was much better after. The arrow was removed and everything.”
Arthur let out a sigh of relief, tangled into wonder. “Merlin took care of you.”
“Yes.”
“How did he know that it was you if you resembled a deer?”
Gwen shook her head. “I don’t know. All I know is when he found me, the spell must have worn off.”
“He didn’t bring you back.”
“No.” Gwen frowned. “I didn’t want to go back. You banished me. I had no right to return to Camelot. I did tell Merlin about Agravaine’s plan, how he was working with Morgana and Helios behind your back. Merlin wanted me to return with him, be there to tell you what I heard, but I couldn’t do it, so he advised me to head to Ealdor, stay with his mother.”
“You didn’t go.”
Gwen shook her head. “I was afraid you didn’t believe the warning, and I was right. You didn’t.”
“Merlin warned me that they were planning something but he never said anything about you!” Arthur insisted hotly.
“I told him not to. You banished me, wanted nothing to do with me.”
That truth dragged him down now. After seeing her with Lancelot he wanted her out of his life. But-
“What happened of her?”
“Who?”
Gwen swallowed tightly. “Your princess.”
Arthur shook his head, feeling pain not from his injuries, but deep within his heart. “I don’t know. She left. I sent her away with her land she laid claim to. It was the least I could do after not giving her the commitment she desired and that I at first promised.” He looked directly into Guinevere’s eyes, wondering what depth of horror lived there. “You must have been scared.”
Gwen lowered her head, upset that he had almost married someone else after he banished her. A princess. It made her feel even dirtier, unkempt. “I was. And ashamed.”
Her voice trembled. Arthur pulled at her hand, whispered, “Come…”
She resisted at first so he pulled harder. “Guin-
His voice broke on her name. She felt her resolve fall apart. She let her body fall down to his chest, attentive enough to not touch upon his deepest wounds. Her cheek lay upon his stomach, where he was not injured. Her fingers clasped his damp skin, a mingling of sweat and the water she had bathed him with last night.
Arthur lifted his hand, feeling the curls of her hair coil around his fingers. They took him as their prisoner; he didn’t try to escape. Nothing really was resolved. He had a web of emotions coursing through his heart and tingles of pain in his body, but for the moment he couldn’t let her go, needed her near.
His other hand still held the leather bound ring. She touched upon it, feeling his skin reassuringly against hers as they lay together.
His eyes closed wearily. So much to say. To do. So much-
Let it rest for the moment.
Her eyes shut too.
He whispered,
“How did I get here?”
She breathed in his scent: damp skin, of the earth, and yet still it could not take away the rich noble masculine aura that always followed him. “I brought you.”
“How?”
She stated it quietly, efficiently. “I pulled your body into this cave, hidden into the wood, where I have been staying. An answer to your earlier question of where we are. It’s just far enough away from Camelot to have allowed me to hide, close enough to keep an eye upon the kingdom. I saw a sword upon the ground, your blade I believe. I struck the man, who wanted to hurt you, with it.”
Arthur brushed his lips against her forehead, tears forming at his lids that made it too hard to speak at first.
And then,
“Guinevere-
She gently cut through. “You need to sleep Arthur.”
He pressed his lips to her forehead again.
“You sleep with me then.”
She gave no counter.
***
Will be continued in Five Enflamed by the Truth of Emotion and the Flesh
Excerpt: Looking up past the trees pikes, he saw it, the smoke.
“Camelot…” he whispered.
Sounds of movement came, horses if he wasn’t mistaken. He started to walk further, slowly. Something came down upon him, forced him to the ground. A hand pressed against his mouth, cutting off his yell.
***
Credit: The song that Gwen sang to Arthur: When the Nightingale Sings (Harley MS. 1310) // The lyrics I posted are the middle English translation, found at this wonderful site: Luminarium // You can find the modern English translation there too.
Thank you for reading. Feedback is adored. Your comments throughout have been wonderful and I appreciate them so much! This story is coming to its end (previously written, but still going through edits) and so I will try to do a faster update next time, thanks!