Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow
Title: Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow
Rating: R, mild. This one gets really angsty and feverish: the angered painful sexual tension kind that is.
Rest of my notes/disclaimer with the first part…
Without further ado, sorry for the wait, here’s the next part with a little summary of what’s happened before to help out because it’s been a while.
Summary: Arthur banished Gwen from Camelot. Merlin found her, but she did not go to Ealdor after he advised her to because she was afraid that Arthur’s life might be in danger. Agravaine, Helios and Morgana attacked Camelot. Arthur sent Leon with Merlin and Gaius, because the physician was too elderly for capture. Then Arthur, injured gravely, fled from Camelot to keep a young girl named Sarya from being captured and killed. Gwen, who has been living in a cave, found and saved him from one of Helios’s men, while Gwaine and Percival found Sarya. Arthur suffered from a fever that Gwen did her best to bring down. Her efforts worked and Arthur was surprised to see her. They spoke about all that had happened since her banishment, with little resolution yet, and then fell asleep together, exhausted.
And now the next part…
Shatter into the Hope of Tomorrow
Five: Enflamed by the Truth of Emotion and the Flesh
As morning started to rise over the little farm village of Ealdor, Merlin worried. There still had been no sign of the other knights and most importantly Arthur. It was possible citizens of Camelot too might be out in the woodland, unable to return home. Then there was of course Gwen, who Merlin hadn’t seen since Mithian’s arrow hit her.
He had to do something.
Cautiously Merlin observed that his mother was still asleep upon her cot. All the villagers seemed to be slumbering, but would be up within moments, for that was how farm-life was lived, waking to the dawn.
Thus he moved fast, once out of the village, running toward the mountains.
Then finding a high peak, he called out in a voice that made the tree branches tremble with awe.
***
“Percival…”
The knight woke up rapidly. “Yes?”
Gwaine was already standing, wrapping up his bedroll and laying it over his horse’s rump. Both he and Percival had kept watch through the night, Gwaine’s round the most recent. “We should get going. Find out if Arthur made it to Ealdor.”
Giving no counter, Percival started moving around too. “I’ll wake Sarya.”
***
Hours later her head still rested upon the unwounded part of his upper body. Gently Arthur slid away, resting her head upon his torn tunic.
His body hadn’t fully ceased aching from injury, so he held to the wall for long moments, needing to regain his equilibrium. Taking deep breaths he felt it feebly returning, enough to get halfway up. It wasn’t much an issue; the cavern’s low roof didn’t allow standing.
Taking it slow, limbs shaky, he crawled to the entrance, finally seeing it, where the light was coming from. On his knees, he felt for the rough opening. Then once past it, he pushed up with his hands, slowly getting his body to finally stand.
Touching at the bandages upon his chest for a moment, and then looking away from the dried blood stains, he moved a little deeper into the wood, feet roughly sliding over the ground. Vision ascending past the trees pikes, he saw it, the smoke.
“Camelot…” he whispered.
Sounds of movement interrupted the woodland serenity, horses if he wasn’t mistaken. He started to walk further, feet still moving ever so slowly as something came down upon him. The hand firmly shut over his mouth before he could yell out protest.
***
“Well young warlock, what is it this time?”
Merlin grimaced. Kilgharrah, without a doubt, had a wry sense of humor, a riddling dragon who liked to act as if he was the wisest of everything. He certainly knew a lot more about what was to come than Merlin did, or at least boasted that he knew. But Merlin could do without his joking right now. He was fraught with emotion, his deep breath displaying it fervently.
Kilgharrah’s expression changed slightly. “Something seems to be troubling you young warlock.”
Merlin nodded his head. “Morgana attacked Camelot.”
The dragon’s head piqued at that, a snarl forming at his mouth. “Ah, the witch.”
Merlin went on. “Yes. We had to flee in the night, the servants, the laborers, the nobles, everyone. The knights knew we were coming to Ealdor. But the people of Camelot did not. I need you to try to find them. Get them here.”
The dragon seemed to almost roll his eyes with annoyance. “And how do you propose I do that young Warlock? Obviously I could do THIS.”
Merlin watched with wild bewilderment as Kilgharrah turned, so at least he wasn’t facing him, and blew out from his mouth a huge volley of fire that charcoaled the underside of their canopy. When it was done Merlin shook his head. “Right, and roast some, while scaring the ones that actually survive so they flee wildly. I don’t think that’s going to help Kilgharrah.”
The dragon gave a low chuckle, quite the jokester. “Probably not.”
Merlin faced him strongly. “This is not funny.”
The dragon relented. “Alas it is not and yet I warned you young warlock. To let the witch go…”
Merlin gave a face that showed he didn’t want to hear any kind of recriminations now.
Tapping his feet into the ground, which was the equivalent of boulders slamming into the earth, Kilgharrah sobered finally. “Alright. There is a way young warlock using some of the oldest magic. No one will be harmed and they will come to Ealdor without the realization it was because of a dragon.”
Merlin sighed relief at that, but then, “I need you do to more. I’m afraid Arthur may have been taken or is injured. Gwen also is missing.”
The dragon shrugged. “The king is important. He will unite Albion. As for your friend she doesn’t matter to me.”
Merlin raged, pointing so harshly at the dragon, speaking in his guttural voice that it shrunk away from him. “But she matters to ME! And she should to you too for she is going to be the Queen of Camelot. I know it. Even if he banished her, Arthur wanted to marry her before and I know he still does. So make sure she matters to YOU.”
The dragon gave in at that, more humbled now, but mostly seeing the importance of the person Merlin was speaking of. “This is the one who broke the love spell then? The young king’s true love?” As Merlin nodded the dragon went on. “Well then, she must be found for she is destined to be part of Albion’s unification. The young king will rely upon her wise council heavily.”
Merlin cared about more than that, but he was used to the dragon not taking much interest in individual lives. The dragon looked instead more at means to ends. “He already does. Gwen can’t be lost in this. She needs to return to Camelot with the rest of us.”
The dragon concurred, but now made a crucial point. “Arthur Pendragon was born with magic.”
Merlin nodded with a slight frown. “Right. Uther asked Nimueh to give Ygraine a son.”
The dragon snarled at the second witch’s name. “Yes young warlock. And so even if that magic is latent within your king, it is still there, albeit impotent. Nevertheless, the old magic I will use with the citizens of Camelot will not work with him. He will see me as the dragon.”
That surprised Merlin. Although maybe it had to do with the rareness of Arthur’s birth. Even if he couldn’t use magic, it possibly still affected him?
“Okay, never would have thought that. Can you at least find him? Tell if he is alright?”
The dragon seemed to almost give a shrug. “Perhaps. If at a distance. Perhaps not though. I cannot tell you for certain young warlock until I catch sight of him.”
Merlin sighed heavily. Kilgharrah’s answer wasn’t helpful.
The dragon started to lift one of his wings to appease, before he brought it back down again gently. Even if the dragon sometimes did not want to care about the young warlock, he did. They were both too much of the old magic, dragonlord and dragon destined to be unified. “I will do my best young warlock.”
Merlin looked up, smiled just a fraction. Arthur had been his responsibility, his destiny and he left him anyway. It was to protect Gaius of course and that mattered much to him, but he needed to know that his king had fared well and that his other dear friend was safe too. “That’s all I can ask.”
The dragon gave a nod and then with a furious flurry of the earth rose up into the sky, disappearing from sight within seconds as he drifted and glided beyond the clouds. Merlin watched until that last speck of brightness was gone, and then hurried back to Ealdor before the villagers would wake.
***
Struggling to get away, senses on the highest alert now, and angry he hadn’t even anticipated the danger strongly enough, Arthur felt himself being pushed to the ground, a force not yielding. He kept attempting his escape until the whisper came.
“Arthur, stop fighting me. Don’t you realize? They are looking for you.”
Guinevere. Her bout of strength now stunned him, but he knew his body was too taxed, muscles like liquid from the fever of last night, breath coming out in hard gasps. He had no choice but to heed. Giving a deep sigh, he let her pull him back into the cave.
Once sitting upon its rough ground again though, he complained robustly.
“I have to go back to Camelot. That’s my land she took. It’s my kingdom.”
It was boiling inside him, eating him alive, that he fled from his kingdom and now who knew what Morgana was doing with it? He saw how many citizens had been murdered. Sir Paul paid the price and countless others. Morgana’s sense it seemed was gone; all she thirsted for was revenge and takeover. He was king. It was his duty to protect his subjects and yet here he was hiding in a cave. It felt WRONG.
Gwen shook her head at his wild ranting, trying to get Arthur to lie down again, but he protested against it vehemently so she settled for him leaning against the cavern’s wall as she leaned against the other side.
“You can’t go back there alone. They’ll kill you. I could hear them hunting for you last night and obviously they still are. You’re as much their prey as I was when Morgana enchanted me to appear as a deer. You’re too weak anyway to put up any sort of fight.”
Arthur hit the ground fiercely, ignoring the shards of pain that blasted through his fist as he did so. “I can’t stay here Guinevere! I don’t even know what happened to my knights!”
She shook her head, keeping as calm as possible as he completely lost his composure. It wouldn’t be the first time. He grabbed her in the throne room, yes a momentary weakness, but nonetheless a piece of who he was. “Hurting yourself won’t help with not knowing the location of your knights.”
Arthur hit the back of his head against the cavern wall. It hurt some, but he ignored the discomfort, closing his eyes tightly.
Gwen slid away from the wall, bringing her hands up to his bandaged chest. She checked each wound. Stains of dried blood lined parts of the shimmery material. None of the blood was fresh, but the bindings were loosening. Gwen started to tighten them as a hand fisted over hers. Lifting her eyes, she saw his blue ones intensely watching her.
His voice was dry and coarse. Inside the cave, having to yield to her medical tending, Arthur was feeling no more like a king, but a refugee. “Those savages that Morgana brought to Camelot, they got Sir Paul.”
Gwen grimaced with emotion at that. “Oh no. Sarya?”
Arthur shook his head miserably. “I don’t know Guinevere. Her parents were alive when I left. Don’t you see, that’s the only reason why I departed Camelot.” He had to say that, confirm it for himself, because it made his skin crawl with shame to be here, sitting, being cared for, as his kingdom still burned with smoke and left over flame. “They were chasing her and so I decided to be their bait.”
She touched his chest. “You don’t even have any armor on.””
Arthur shook his head. “They would identify me too easily. I had to get Sarya’s parents to safety. I hope I did. Morgana and Agravaine gave the orders to kill a few of the citizens. Get them to heed her.”
Gwen grimaced with anguish. She didn’t get it. What Morgana did to her, what she would do to Camelot, to her brother, why was she so cold inside now? “And Merlin?”
Arthur focused on the cavern’s ceiling, so dark, making him feel angrily claustrophobic. He didn’t like being in such a confined place for so long, not while his kingdom was in peril. “I sent him with Gaius and Leon. Gaius is too old. He’d never survive Morgana’s wrath.”
Gwen nodded, pressing her palm against Arthur’s bared bandaged chest. She held still, feeling some peace from his body’s warmth.
But Arthur still had none. He opened his eyes, gaze fervent. That outfit she wore, it audaciously exposed her flat stomach. “What do you eat here?”
She touched his shoulder.
Arthur tightly grabbed her wrist. “Answer me. What do you eat?”
Gwen didn’t struggle against his grip. Never in her life would she fear Arthur. Even in the throne room he hadn’t scared her. It had just been startling to be on the receiving end of his wrath, because it was the first time he had yelled so fiercely at her. “I’ve had a few berries and things like that.”
Arthur shook his head, not at all satisfied. “I’ll go get something.”
He started to lift up to his feet, getting her to push her palm against his shoulder. “You’re still hurt. And they’re looking. With it daylight it may be too easy for you to be captured.”
Arthur grunted furiously, heart viciously focusing on that awful night, the one that thrust a poisoned arrow into it. He had screamed when he saw them together, getting Lancelot’s attention. And then when he de-armed Lancelot of his sword she thrust through, crying out for it all to stop. She did it right when Lancelot no longer had a weapon to defend himself.
His anger fused more. He took it out on the outfit, giving it another snarling look of disgust. “I hate what you’re wearing.”
Gwen turned away. His skin was turning red with emotion and that would do no good for his body’s recovery so she let him have the last insulting word, not responding.
“Why?”
Gwen’s eyebrows rose with question.
“Why did you kiss him when he came back?”
It was like the blade of his sword cutting through her, bringing it back. She had asked herself that so many times the question was drilled into her head. Never did an answer come.
That night in the cells, after thrusting the bracelet away, she tried to find it. She pulled at her hair for it until it fell out of all its perfect bindings. She cried through the night for it, but it never came. It was like some vicious tentacle gripped her heart and tore it away from the man she loved. It caught hold of her limbs and pulled her the other way, making lust and physical desire all that mattered.
And yet it wasn’t true, because fervently she desired Arthur. Dreamed enough of what it would be like to be invited to his bed, to share it with him. So deeply she yearned to feel what it would be like when they shed their clothes and come together, to feel his hands touch her in the most intimate way.
“Are you thinking of him?”
How could he think such a thing? When her emotions were now so vulnerably upon the man she loved? Open and yet he slammed the door on any depth of feeling. Bastard. It was such an undignified way to name him, but he was being undignified too. The wild wood was discharging every vicious thought.
“Stop it! I know I hurt you. I have told you over and over I never meant to. I didn’t want to kiss him.”
Arthur sneered. “Then why did you? Because you certainly didn’t look like you were suffering.”
Gwen countered sharply. “Neither did you when you were laughing with the Princess Mithian.” It was maybe too much to say, but it hurt horribly to see them together so soon after he banished her. “I know you almost married her. Yes?”
Gritting his teeth, Arthur spit out, “I never wanted another for years. You know that. You on the other hand-
She pressed her palm against her heart. “I made a mistake.” It was weak, but she still had no good counter. That night, it was like something took over her body, controlled it.
“So did I. Asking for your hand.”
She turned her face away at that, eyes closing with anguish.
A part of him felt sorry. The other part wanted to start the war. He couldn’t fight the real one in Camelot, so inflict this one. But he should have known, there’d be no victor. Even if he still ached for her, it was almost easier to just push away that feeling, to reject her pain.
It had always been there, he now finally realized. Lancelot was so noble and good. Arthur truly enjoyed having him as a knight.
As long as he kept his distance from Guinevere.
He mourned his death the first time. Truly he did. But even before then he couldn’t help it. There was always a prod of tension when he saw Lancelot with his Guinevere. He often stood closer to her in those moments, reached a hand out for her waist that couldn’t be seen. And he delighted when she’d move closer to him too, freely.
“You always wanted him.”
Gwen lowered her head, before lifting it up again, tears almost as heavy as the night she was put in the dungeons. She knew her hair was just as ragged as it had been then, that she probably looked terrible, but what she felt was worse.
“You didn’t want me.”
Arthur stared, that response a shocking one.
She went on to make the point that he never fully enough saw, that if he wanted to inflict pain, she would finally force him to see. “You said at first we couldn’t be together because of your father.” She lifted her hands, holding them together against her heart.
“I waited for you for so long. I kept myself just for you. I did it knowing that to be with you, could cause me peril. Could thrust me away from my life and home. Because your father would never allow it and I couldn’t ask you to betray him. And before. Years before you even looked my direction, years before you showed humility, I saw you. I cared about you. And you didn’t turn back to me. So yes, when Lancelot first came, when you had yet to even notice I was standing there in the throne room, being passed by you in the hallway with not so much as a glance, it felt good to be desired. I enjoyed his appreciation of me. And then you kissed me in my home and…”
She was holding herself, arms wrapped around her chest. Arthur watched, pained, and still needing to inflict it, because it ached, because what she said was shamefully true.
He desired princesses then, pretty little princesses. He couldn’t see his way to a servant girl. But then little things happened. Oh make it no mistake, he always saw Guinevere as a good kind person. But after he saw her strength in Ealdor, after the questing beast bit him and he had that foggy memory of her tending to him, he stopped desiring pretty little princesses. He wanted the elusive handmaiden, the caring brave one who knocked him down when that gargoyle thing nearly killed him.
He felt with that first kiss his whole heart turn upside down. Her lips were so perfectly positioned between dry and wet heat. The touch of her hands was warmly giving as she presented her token. Her eyes when he moved away, were so intently gazing up into his.
He just fell in love with her, no warning, no perfect princess melody. And so every time he saw her with Lancelot it bothered him.
Those kisses, those blasted kisses that awful night, how she touched him then, it was burned into his memory. Every time he tried to flush it out, he couldn’t. It was sunk within. And so as much he still frustratingly loved her, there was so much hot anger there too.
“I kissed you in your home and what?” He dryly asked, needing release, but not knowing where to get it from.
She shook her head, giving answer simply, with quiet, but determined veracity. “And I knew it was you I loved. But you said it couldn’t be because of your father. So I accepted it. I told you later that I couldn’t be your queen.”
“You can’t be. You won’t be.” He stated coldly now.
She turned away from him, wanting no more of this fight, of his rash words meant to slice her heart to pieces.
He cursed the satisfaction he got at seeing all her tears. Cursed how simultaneously they made his heart burn into hell. And cursed what he now said. “He’s dead.”
Gwen turned back to him, questioningly. “What?”
Arthur thought he would smile with victory, but it flattened to the deepest hollow. “Lancelot. He took his own life that night. He’s gone.”
She sobbed, not for any misplaced love, but for the pain of a person dying. She knew Arthur just wanted to hurt her, but the past weeks had been too much. Turning into a frightened deer, fending for any bit of life, had been too much. Being thrust away from her home by the man who once promised it to be hers forever…inflicted too much.
“Miss him so?” Arthur asked, screaming at his mouth to shut up. She was feeling enough. Hurting enough. As much as she hurt him? Fie those sick kisses, that way her body turned to be one with-
Gwen shrunk away, wanting to be apart from him, left alone to her own pain.
Surging with heat of anger, of desire, of pain, of need, Arthur shackled her wrist with his exigent fingers. She protested, but with his other hand he locked in her waist, brought her body flush against his. So hot, he felt, quaking with a man’s untamed yearnings. This wasn’t any gentle embrace. It was a fevered one. He gripped her curls, pushed his fingers through them.
His, he wanted to demand. She was his and he wanted to press that upon her so forcefully now that she never doubted it again. That she never even thought to go to another. She was his…he wanted her breasts, her thighs, her curve of body, her heart…oh he so badly wanted her heart. Needed it to fit somewhere deep inside his so it would never run free again. There was no valor in these feelings, no knightly chivalry, no conduct exuded by a king, but he was nonesuch here. Just a man who was finally again with the one person who made his heart undulate with emotion. A man who wanted to take her lips and make them burn with the fever not even his injuries could have produced.
And as for her, she didn’t want to be released. She was far from some humbly dignified handmaiden here, instead a woman who had been ravaged by the wilds of the wood. Dressed in gaudy attire, she felt no sense of propriety. So her body excited at his unleashed touch. Even though her mind warned it was his anger making him act like this, her brutally bruised heart didn’t care. It wanted to stop being enclosed in a desert of loneliness. Her breasts bounced with fervent splendor as they felt the rock of his chest. Her thighs shocked with delight at the feel of his warm skin washing over them. The contact, so poignant, so piercing, oh she just wanted it to go on, hissing at her more diligent mind to shut its mouth.
Her breasts, they kept rising and falling, in that outfit that barely bound them. They teased his chest, bringing out his guttural groan. And that shimmery material hardly contained the womanly thick warmth of her thighs, bringing him into their gate of lusciousness. He barely looked at her, just feeling, mouth somehow coming to where hers waited with little patience, her breath fast, her heart thumping so hard. Like he was swelling with it.
She had hints of it before when they would kiss in Camelot, but he was always gentle, always proper. Now that throbbing hardness pushed against her one of her legs, warning that he was far from kindness. She didn’t care. She burned for it in fact, him, pulsing and filling just for her. Desiring her that greatly that he couldn’t even contain himself. She wanted that now. Him wild. Beautifully unrestrained.
His lips pressed. They pulled at hers, hissing, snarling. Want me. Come apart for me. His tongue pushed in, not seeking any permission of entrance, just demanding that she open. But it wasn’t alone. Her fingers grasped hard to his shoulders, pressing, pulling.
All the gentle kisses of Camelot were forgotten. They ripped apart under his now bruising lips. She knew it would hurt, but she never realized the ache could feel so exciting, so thrilling. Every time his lips burned hers, made her gasp with fevered want. She pushed in tighter against his body, felt her hips rock, felt his fingers squeeze, pulse into her in calescent reaction. Oh, to drive into him, she was flaming, her body filling with wet friction filled heat.
Arthur hissed in pain and pleasure. Craving. Thirsting. Always he chivalrously held back. But not now. Here, beyond kingdom and rule, his only thought was her, telling any order of his mind to back off. His heart wanted this so badly, his body was thrusting to be within. The kisses were barely enough. He grasped her hair, pulled apart her tangled curls, hearing her cries of desire, feeling her fluctuating against him, tensing for him to give more. He needed to find release. It was a necessity. His mouth was messy against hers, uncoordinated. Eating her alive.
She didn’t care. She answered him in return, thighs pressing against him even more, she didn’t know how much more she could stand. It hurt so much. It felt so rapturous. It was the sweetest kind of pain. Her mouth couldn’t get enough of his. It needed more fulfillment. His hardness pressing against her, reminding that it too wanted some pleasure. To that she felt little fear. Just raw excitement for soon enough the kisses would no longer suffice. Soon enough…
He wanted her surrender, but now she was fighting alongside him instead. Challenging him. Pushing him to feel more. It inflicted the deepest agony, made him hold her without little care for gentleness. He pressed his fingers so hard against her flesh, he could start feeling the imprint. Their mouths didn’t kiss at all, instead dueled for supremacy. She was the only thing within his periphery. Like the arrow aimed for its target his lips, his body aimed to contain her. He wanted to take her breath and make it one with his. He wanted to take away any temptation. Just want me, his heart begged. Love me and only me, Guinevere. That’s what his mouth begged through its hot wet kisses. Desire just me.
Her fingers slid lower by their own spontaneous accord. She accidentally gripped where one of his wounds lay, so fevered into their passions that her heart forgot his injuries. But her mind remembered.
And now shockingly his brain told his body to also, making his mouth tear away from hers as he howled out from the pain. It took over the desire, the stress of his wound being inflicted with raw pricks.
“Oh, I’m sorry.” She whispered wretchedly, extricating her thighs, and feeling him bodily moving away also now.
It was like they had been under some spell of hot desire. At least that was how he let himself off for allowing things to go so far, for taking advantage of so much, and giving in to what his mind kept warning him about.
Oh blessed life’s cruelties. All her curls were wet upon her face. They had driven up the sweat and glistening of love waiting to be made. But it couldn’t go on. So many kisses that bordered on sucking in life, but too much. His body was pulsing too hard and even if the pain from when she touched his injury was fading away, and the swelling hardness that had been building within him was tempering, his heart was fever filled. It was screaming at him to be with her again.
But his mind reprimanded that he couldn-
Oh, it hurt so much. To leave her. To be with her.
Couldn’t.
He gestured outside, pointing down again at her flat stomach with a grimace, trying to ignore the shaking of his fingers. God, he missed her already, but he couldn’t do this. It would hurt too much when he wasn’t enough. He needed to get away. “I’m going to get us some food.”
Gwen wanted so fervently to pull him back to her, to get him to at least to talk to her, to check to make sure that he was alright. A tear welling behind one of her eyes, she asked with shivers thrusting through her voice, “I’m so sorry. Did I hurt you?”
Oh the most volatile question. The remorse in her face. He shook his head slowly. “No.” Pointed to his wound. “It’s alright. I just…I…”
She nodded too. Knowing little else what to do. So tied up between remorse and unsatisfied passion and swells of pain.
He couldn’t stand looking at her face anymore, couldn’t stand being in this cavern anymore alone with her when everything was so charged, so dangerously explosive.
“I have to go. We need something to eat.” He peered outside the cave, seeing the light fading. “It’s later now. So don’t come after me.”
Then he was gone.
Her hand pressed so hard against her heart, it left its imprint. She let out a shudder of unhappiness, of unbridled emotion, and then the pain so flushed, the tears no longer able to be pressed back, she curled her hands around her hot upper body, still burning from unreleased desire and rejection. Then unable to remain upright, she crumpled to the cave’s floor, sobs and salting moisture expunged.
***
Helping his mother tend to the land, too impatient to stand still really, Merlin turned around as he heard the beat of horse’s hooves. Shielding his eyes from the sun with the palm of his hand, his eyes widened as the horses and riders came closer into view.
Dropping his hoe, he ran forward. Two men. One young girl.
“Gwaine, Percival! Sarya?”
They all got down from their mounts, telling Merlin about the journey through the forest, and relaying the story about finding Sarya, how their king had helped her escape.
“Gaius?”
Merlin pointed to the gathering of houses at Percival’s concerned question. “He’s acting as physician to the people of Ealdor, since most rarely get to see one. He’s fine.”
“That’s good.” Gwaine stated with feeling. Leon joined them as Hunith took Sarya inside so she could feed her. The knights and Merlin talked about what their next move should be. Everyone was itching to find Arthur, get him to Gaius so he could tend to his injuries.
There was another side to Merlin’s feelings about it though. It was possible Kilgharrah would find Arthur and Gwen. It was also possible he wouldn’t, which could lead to capture, even death. They had to search. The knights were practically jumping out of their boots. Trying to stop them would raise suspicion. Merlin wanted to go with them, but he needed to see what Kilgharrah found.
Gwaine had suffered a small wound during the fight in the castle that only now he had the time to concentrate on. Even though he huffed about it, better for him to get a little rest at least. He could also safeguard Ealdor. Leon and Percival would return to the woods to search for their missing sovereign.
It seemed the best plan at the moment, and would be put into action after Percival got himself a bite to eat.
Merlin delayed going inside, looking up to the skies instead, hoping Kilgharrah found both his missing friends.
***
Arthur returned to the darkened cavern with a wild rabbit bladed by his sword to find Gwen lying on her side, asleep on the cave floor.
Although he still hated being away from his kingdom, getting to hunt for their food had calmed him down some. Given time to cool his temper, he felt a bit ashamed for how he had acted before, almost taking advantage of a vulnerable situation.
Lowering his load he grimaced with discontent as he noticed it more closely. The bottom of the cave was jagged. No doubt it was cutting into her arms. Out in the wood he had found some fern leaves, soft enough to be a crude mattress. Lifting her body carefully, he slid them underneath.
She didn’t wake. Arthur wasn’t surprised. Living in this cavern she probably barely ever slept. Her eyes were ringed with dark circles, skin blotchy from dried tears. Weeks ago he would have cradled her into his arms, wiped every tear away from her face with his fingers. But now he just gently moved away the damp curls from her brow, whispered against her face, “I’m sorry too.”
For he was.
No matter how angry he felt, no matter that he banished her for all the reasons he first stated, he hated that she was living in this cavern. He hated that he grabbed her arm in the throne room. He hated that he couldn’t just protect her, hold her, and love her without blinding…
Fear.
***
Gaius had bandaged Gwaine’s shoulder earlier and now was checking to see that everything was healing well within Hunith and Merlin’s tiny home. Seeing that it was, he sat back for a moment. “Wound is barely a scrape. Should be a distant memory in a day or two.”
Gwaine quietly thanked Gaius, keeping his energy in check. It was hard to not be searching with Leon and Percival for the king, but it was also a necessary effort that Ealdor stay protected. Just now that the battle was in full effect, he thought of another as he pulled his tunic back over his shoulder. “Gaius what do you think happened to Gwen? Do you think she’s alright?”
Gaius’s left eyebrow came up for a moment sharply. In Camelot Arthur had not tolerated conversation about her. Now though that Camelot was under siege and the king was not even within the vicinity, it seemed the rules were somewhat changed. And even if they weren’t, Gaius too had been wondering. “I’m not sure Gwaine.” He put away the vial that had been packed into an emergency case he kept at the door of his quarters back in Camelot, intended for a situation like this one. It held essential treatments for the gravest of injuries and a few routine ones, like Gwaine’s.
With concern Gwaine faced Gaius. “It’s said that Helios and his army have been active throughout many of the small villages, pillaging and plundering regularly.”
Gaius’s expression was grave. “Yes, I have heard that too.”
“So do you think it’s possible he invaded the one you sent Gwen to?”
To that question Gaius shook his head. “I can’t say for certain. Let’s just hope for the best.”
To both the answer wasn’t very satisfying, but that matter would have to hold. They both lifted their heads, turning to the door of the house. There was commotion coming from outside.
Gwaine grabbed his sword, ready to wield it against the enemy, but on the other side were not foes. They were instead dirtied, tired, even injured, but most importantly alive, citizens of Camelot. Gaius and Gwaine rushed to greet them with Merlin and the other villagers.
***
Gwen woke up to a fiery smell and something soft under her body. She lifted onto her elbows, seeing that he was struggling with moving the rabbit away as it was burning on one side quite strongly. She couldn’t help but smile a little. Arthur never was that good with fires.
Pushing up onto her knees, she scooted his hands away. Then moving her hands half into the fire, not really afraid of it because she was a blacksmith’s daughter and had been around the flame since she was a little girl, she pulled it out. However when a spark managed to catch her arm, her mouth elicited a pained yelp.
Arthur was impressed with what little fear she showed. But then as that spark caught her, he pulled her back, gently grasping her arm. “Did it get you?” He asked stupidly.
She grimaced tightly, trying to pretend it didn’t hurt much. Arthur looked down at his ripped tunic on the cave floor. He ripped it some more, bringing it over her arm. Blowing just a little on it, he looked up to see her eyes watering slightly. “Alright?”
It was almost too much, his sudden care for her. She just nodded her head.
Arthur finished wrapping the piece of material around her arm, feeling relief that she hadn’t hurt herself more, emotions already tangled enough as it was to have to worry strongly about her.
Gwen leaned into his shoulder for a few seconds, not feeling him push her away, but then resisting, she pulled apart from him. It was too hard. She couldn’t take it if he rejected her. She looked down at his half burned rabbit. He did too.
“Pitiful.” He whispered.
It was the breaker. He started to laugh. Feeling a smile edging at the corners of her mouth, she did too.
“Indeed pitiful.”
They giggled wildly together, the crazed kind of laughter that was so spontaneous it made your insides hurt. But it was such a needed release.
When they were done panting from the burst of insane hilarity, she found her knife, cut away the burned edges and started to lay down the good parts for him on one of the leaves he found outside. It was the perfect plate and probably cleaner than any of their ragged clothes. She pushed it his way, all of it, which brought on Arthur’s protest.
“No.” He lay half of it on another leaf, moving it back to her. “Go on.” He gestured with meaning.
She slowly began to eat too, thinking how it was good. He spiced it with some kind of herb he must have found in the wood.
They continued to eat together, Gwen inquiring, “You did not see Morgana or Helios’s men out there?”
Chewing on a piece of the rabbit and swallowing it down, Arthur gave a negative. “No. They must have been taking a breather. Didn’t catch much of any noises, except coming from overheard for just a moment or two.”
“What was it? A bird?”
Arthur shook his head. “Don’t think so. Sounded larger than that, but I saw nothing in the sky. It was strange.”
Gwen’s face showed concern so without thinking of it much, just responding to the emotion in her face, he brushed his fingers against her cheek.
“It’s alright.” He whispered and after she gave a slight nod of her head, untrusting of her voice, he lowered his hand.
The rest of the meal they ate in silence.
***
Ealdor, usually quiet at night but for the nocturnal critters, was a flurry of activity now with all the Camelot residents filling it. As they would do in their own kingdom, most rose to the direness of the matter, those strong enough helping the villagers prepare food and finding places of rest for the injured.
People of two separate kingdoms now worked together in harmony. The additional knights and guardsmen found, kept careful guard at the perimeters, just in case Morgana, Agravaine and Helios tried to ambush.
Merlin mused there was a good chance they would, especially since Morgana had been to Ealdor before and knew it was mostly sheltered by the woods. Few would think to go there, but Morgana knew its significance. That and other important reasons were why Merlin now rushed up to the mountains, once able to get away. They needed to meet again.
Raising his head, once out of sight, Merlin didn’t have to wait long. It was like the dragon had been waiting for him. He circled the sky only once, coming down for a landing that bent back the humbled tree trunks and created a windstorm within the tall grasses. Nevertheless Merlin held his ground. Even with the dragon having awesome power, he had never feared him.
“You kept your word old friend. Did well. Thank you.”
Kilgharrah bowed his head slightly. “The old magic worked to bring them here as I thought it would.”
Merlin nodded, asking with hope, “And Arthur, Gwen?”
The dragon tapped his foot, creating a disturbance of the earth, yet Merlin had no problem still holding his ground. “I did see the young king. He did not notice me. I disappeared into the sky too fast for him. I think he may have heard though. He seemed to be moving slower, but moving nonetheless. As for the woman, I saw no sign of her. I am sorry young warlock, but I cannot assure of her wellbeing.”
Merlin had hoped against reason that possibly they’d been reunited. Now…he wasn’t so sure.
“Well…thank you for checking anyway Kilgharrah.” He stated quietly, before returning to the finding of Arthur. “So where did you see him?”
The dragon gave answer, surprising Merlin that his place of hiding was not so far from Camelot.
***
As the hour grew late, it became clear this night would be a chilled one. Gwen lay down upon the ferns, curling tight, asking him with curiosity as he lay across from her, back turned. “Did you get these? The ferns?”
Arthur nodded his head, staring at the wall of the cavern, not yet ready to sleep, but coiled up too tightly, probably as cold as her. “Yes. You’d skin your arms sleeping without protection another night on this cavern floor.”
Gwen smiled mildly. “Thank you Arthur.”
He said nothing for a long while, and then, “You’re welcome. Goodnight Guinevere.”
Tears irritated her eyes at his tender expression. She whispered back to him, “Goodnight Arthur. Sleep well my Lord.” Belatedly she realized he wasn’t even that anymore, not after he banished her from the kingdom.
He didn’t seem to care, just grimaced, shivering. “Can’t. I’m freezing.”
She nodded, shaking. “The same.”
Arthur grunted at that. This was ridiculous. What was left of his shirt was too riddled with holes to warm him enough and her outfit Helios had her wear was next to nothing for warmth. Sure the fire was burning, but it wasn’t enough either. Shuffling over, he lay down next to her, grasping tightly at her waist.
Gwen shivered at the rush of warmth, thinking how odd, but sweet the contradiction.
Arthur pulled her tightly against him, giving his lame and yet true enough excuse. “It’s too cold.”
Her back pressed against the natural heat of his chest, she smiled just a bit. “Agreed.”
His hand lifted, meaning to touch her shoulder, but in the dark, the fire not light enough, he found her face instead. He shocked at the feel of fresh wetness. “So many tears…” He whispered with discontent.
His hand there, new ones came. She whimpered only, not able to say much more.
Arthur sighed, finally wiping them away now that his fingers were so handily there. “No more, alright Guinevere.”
She said nothing, too wracked with emotion to talk. Arthur lifted it up between their fingers, the ring on the piece of leather. She grasped it, feeling the warmth of his hand touching hers. “I’m sorry.” She whispered.
Arthur closed his eyes, feeling patches of growing solace filling the hollow holes of infliction. He didn’t fear being with her as much. In fact he found himself focused on something else. There was still a tangled web of emotions swirling through him, but one thing he knew for certain. Pained, angered, it didn’t matter. He simply didn’t want to see her hurt anymore.
“I know. Hush up about it now.”
In any other world his words would be harsh, but they were whispered tenderly against her cheek and so she just sighed. It felt so good just to have him close-by. It tore away their separation of the past weeks.
She closed her eyes, finally at some semblance of peace.
And as she did, Arthur felt his own fresh tears singe his flesh.
***
Will be continued/concluded in Six Enter the Fierce Unknown Together
Excerpt: Gwen screamed, biting the hand that was trying to lift her up to her feet. The man howled in pain and she moved away, concentrating on the one Arthur was fighting, seeing the man she loved doubled over in pain. Getting his fallen sword from the ground, she thrust it at the offending man, the blade cutting into his stomach. He fell over and she heaved a sigh. But the other man was still behind her, getting away from the branch she had thrown at him. Holding his sword out, he got ready to slash her throat.
***
Note: I knew that the fifth chapter was incredibly long (as this is all prewritten) and I added much more to it recently so I decided to split it all up into two chapters of about almost 8,000 words each. So there will be one more chapter and that should be the final one. Since I’m on break now, I intend to post it pretty soon. Maybe a couple of weeks? That’s my aim.
Thank you for kindly reading. Comments are always adored. I will make haste as much as possible with the conclusion’s post.
P.S. Hope you like the new journal look. I’m loving it! Pretty, unique{custom made- so exciting for me, lol} and I think still similar enough to the old look to not be a drastic change. I even have a ‘masterlist’ of my fics now to organize them. Thanks friends for sharing the loveliness of writing with me! ❤