001 [Many Miles from Camelot]
[The vase of flowers fell to the ground with a crash, sending daisies and shards of broken pottery scattering across the starry floor of the Plane. Guinevere was not a clumsy servant - clumsy servants didn’t last long in royal households, after all - but the shock of being pulled from one world to another was something that no one could prepare for.
She gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth.]
… where am I? What manner of place is this?
[She’d picked the flowers that very morning, as a gift for the Lady Morgana. (Times had changed in Camelot, but Gwen’s affection for her mistress had not.) Had someone followed her back to the castle? Or had someone simply seen her enter the Queen’s chambers and made an incorrect assumption about her identity?
It didn’t matter. She was not in Camelot any more. Stepping away from the spreading puddle of water and speaking with a dignity beyond her station and her work worn clothing, she addressed her unseen captors.]
I do not know why you have brought me here, but there is nothing you can say that will make me betray my mistress. I will not help you.
[She would rather die than help them, though she did not say that. Any sorcerer who would kidnap her would have no qualms about granting such a wish.]
I cannot. [Her composure wavered. Though she was not ashamed of who or what she was, her life depended on convincing her captors that she was inconsequential. She could only hope that they did not already know of her close relationship with Morgana.] I am only a servant. I have nothing of value. I am not important. Keeping me here will not further your cause.
[She paused, waiting for an answer that did not come. Panic started to well up inside her once more.]
Please, listen to me! You do not have to do this! Arthur is a good king and a good man. If you wish to talk to him, I know he will listen ...
She gasped, clasping her hands over her mouth.]
… where am I? What manner of place is this?
[She’d picked the flowers that very morning, as a gift for the Lady Morgana. (Times had changed in Camelot, but Gwen’s affection for her mistress had not.) Had someone followed her back to the castle? Or had someone simply seen her enter the Queen’s chambers and made an incorrect assumption about her identity?
It didn’t matter. She was not in Camelot any more. Stepping away from the spreading puddle of water and speaking with a dignity beyond her station and her work worn clothing, she addressed her unseen captors.]
I do not know why you have brought me here, but there is nothing you can say that will make me betray my mistress. I will not help you.
[She would rather die than help them, though she did not say that. Any sorcerer who would kidnap her would have no qualms about granting such a wish.]
I cannot. [Her composure wavered. Though she was not ashamed of who or what she was, her life depended on convincing her captors that she was inconsequential. She could only hope that they did not already know of her close relationship with Morgana.] I am only a servant. I have nothing of value. I am not important. Keeping me here will not further your cause.
[She paused, waiting for an answer that did not come. Panic started to well up inside her once more.]
Please, listen to me! You do not have to do this! Arthur is a good king and a good man. If you wish to talk to him, I know he will listen ...