Tortured: A Tale of Camelot
Galahad sat atop his horse looking for trouble. As a Knight of the Roundtable he was sworn to protect anyone in need. Camelot was in turmoil. Everyone was returning after the battle between the Woads and the Knights against the Saxons. People were bustling about looking for old homes, thieves were looking for homes to ransack, and Galahad sat above it all looking for scuffles and disputes to break up.
Women sighed as he rode past. With his shoulder length curly sable hair he was their rescuer and protector not to mention extremely handsome. They could feel his emerald eyes assess the streets making sure they were safe.
"Sir," a peasant yelled. Galahad turned his horse towards the voice. A peasant franticly motioned him over.
"What is it man?" Galahad inquired.
The man did not respond. Galahad dismounted and hurried over to the male who was now in hysterics. He pushed his way through the crowd to find the object of their attention. But it wasn't what he thought it'd be.
He was staring down at a Pict. Not just any Pict, a girl Pict. Not that he wasn't used to them. After Guinevere had become queen they were everywhere, but she was beat up. He could see the bruises on her face, and the blood running out of a cut lip. He could also see bruises on her stomach and on her shoulders. The Pict's women's warrior garb was revealing to say the least. Her breasts were spilling out of the "top". He saw there were even bruises there too. "What happened to her?" he asked stunned as he kneeled down beside her. Once his face was closer to hers he noticed how beautiful she was. Her hair was a light brown with blonde highlights. He couldn't tell what color her eyes were because they were closed, but she had beautiful lashes. They were like black moonbeams across her once pale skin. There was a small black tattoo by her eye. Galahad leaned closer to see what it was. It was a star. A perfect five-pointed star right by the corner of her left eye. One of her hands was right next to her temple. Her wrists were scarred and disfigured. Like she had been in chains or tied with rope, and there were stars twining over her wrists too.
"Who did this?" he asked knowing that he would not get an answer. This had been torture from months and months. This was not some casual beat up wench. This was serious.
He looked up at a man that was hovering over his shoulder. "Will you fetch my horse?" Galahad asked. The man nodded dumbly. The knight would guess that none of the crowd huddled around him and the Pict had seen someone in such bad shape. It was a miracle she was even alive. He placed his arm under her head and under her folded legs just as he was about to lift her. Her eyes flickered open. He caught a flash of piercing blue before they closed again.
"Guinevere," she gasped, then black over took her.
"Guinevere?" Galahad whispered confused, but he knew an answer would not pass her parted cherry red lips. The crowd parted as the man that Galahad had sent to get his horse came back. The black animal was led through the midst of the people. But they were not really paying attention to the horse. Instead they were looking at the tenderness that a bloodthirsty Roundtable Knight was paying to the tortured woman.
The honey-haired woman was light. She didn't have the appearance that she had been starved, but nonetheless to Galahad she seemed like she might just float away. He carried her through the crowd that was still staring intently.
The horse shifted uneasily at the sight of his master and the burden he carried. It was almost as if the horse knew she was not in good shape. Galahad whispered sweet nothings to the horse to calm it down. He boosted the warrior maid onto the horse. Not used to the deadweight of an unconscious person the black beauty stamped in place.
"Steady, Oberon," Galahad said soothingly. "Steady." The horse stilled under his master's compelling voice. Swinging up into the saddle, he settled behind the Woad. He was amazed at how well she fit into his arms. Her curves accented all his hard planes. Her long hair was flowing like a banner behind them as they flew towards the fortress known as Camelot.
"What juicy bundle have you got there, Galahad?" Gwaine yelled down from the battlements.
"I don't know who she is. She only mentioned one name." Galahad yelled back. Stable boys rushed from their posts to help the knight dismount. Galahad carefully lowered the star girl from her perch.
"What was it?" Gwaine asked coming down the stairs. He looked at the girl that Galahad held so reverently.
"Guinevere," he said as an almost prayer. "Some how she knows Guinevere." Gwaine covered the space between him and Galahad. Looking at the girl up close was looking at was like looking at what not to do to a human being. Gwaine couldn't remember a time when he looked as bad as her.
"Fetch the queen," he commanded a nearby laundry woman.
"I can't milord I have-"
"Quickly girl the laundry can wait." Galahad yelled at her. The lass scurried off, leaving an upturned laundry basket behind her.
"You didn't have to snap at her Galahad. She was just doing her job."
"So you're saying that laundry is more important than a life, Gwaine?" Galahad replied hotly.
"I did not say that!"
"Well, that is what it sounded like!" Gwaine deemed that Galahad was being irrational and there was nothing that he could say that would not make his friend act rashly.
Sighing with relief at the sight of the laundress Gwaine was saved from long moments of awkward silence. "Where's the queen, girl?"
"She is telling me to tell you to bring the girl inside. She was…" the girl blushed a bright red. "Finishing something with milord the king."
"Arthur can't give up a good fuck for a dying Pict!" Galahad yelled. Gwaine brought his hand around and slapped him.
"You keep a civil tongue in your head! You have no right to criticize Arthur! He has every right to spend time with Guinevere. This is one of the first times they've been able to be by themselves since the Saxon invasion!" Galahad looked like he might make another remark equally as bad, so Gwaine cut him off. "Let's take the girl inside. We can at least help her that much until Guinevere comes."
"We will put her in my room." Galahad said abashed for being such a prig. Galahad kept stealing looks at the blue warrior in his arms. She was so beautiful! He wanted to kill the bastards that had done this to her. No person had the right to do this to another human being.
Galahad's room lacked finesse and fine things, but it had a bed and that was what the star girl needed. Laying her carefully on the rumpled covers, he stroked her hair. It wasn't coarse and rough like the whores in the city, no, it was smooth like Chinese silk.
Gwaine watched this all silently, knowing, even if Galahad didn't know, that him and the dying Pict belonged together. They had the same silent chemistry as Artur and Guinevere. I I wonder what she's like? I'm guessing she has fire to survive the torture she had and still be alive. But what else/I
The door to Galahad's room burst open. "What is it? What is so important?" The queen looked far from composed. Her hair and dress were disheveled. The sable mass was flowing from behind her.
Gwaine gave her a broad wink and a becoming pink blush flowered over her already flushed cheeks.
"She is," Galahad said from his seat on the bed. His hand held the pale hands of the warrior maiden.
"No it can't be," Guinevere breathed out. "She's dead." She walked over to the be starred girl on the bed. Gwaine and Galahad looked up at their queen, startled that she was to taken aback. "Alanna?"
The girl's eye's flickered open.
Where am I? was the first thing Alanna thought. She tried to raise herself off the bed and stand, but her limbs had given out. The months of journeying and years of torture had taken their toll.
"Where am I?" she moaned out. The bed shook as someone upon it jumped off.
"Alanna?" A familiar voice said. "Alanna?" She turned her head toward the voice and she laid her eyes on the queen of Britain.
"Guinevere?" Alanna whispered. The sable-haired queen flung herself unceremoniously at her.
"Oh Alanna 'tis you! I thought you were dead! We all thought you were dead!"
"How do you know each other?" A British voice said. Alanna knew from years of hearing different accents that he was not born a Briton, but she could also tell he'd been here a while. When her gaze found the speaker she was shocked. She had just been having dreams about this man. Brown curly hair framed his handsome face. Most men of Britain had long, unkempt hair, but his was short, only four or five inches long.
Blue eyes like the ocean on a calm day surveyed her. Alanna hated when people stared. She shot him a glare that could have annihilated the fiery depths of Hell. He didn't flinch. He didn't even stop scrutinizing at her.
"Stop looking at me you bastard!" She said devilishly calm. The air of hostility was broken by a wracking cough that tore from Alanna's lungs.
"Sorry milady," he said with an imperious air, but concern flitted across his eyes.
"No you are not," she shot back. He nodded in response knowing Alanna was right.
Guinevere glanced back and forth between Alanna and Galahad. His pure cerulean eyes were locked in battle with Alanna's gold specked ones. Both Gwaine and the Queen could see the sparks about to fly.
"Why aren't you answering my question?" said the knight still not blinking.
"Because I don't like bloody basatards that pry!"
"Well maybe you should eventu-"
"STOP! I demand you to both stop!" Guinevere yelled over the two bickering warriors. "You two need to get along. Especially because you will be sharing a room…"
"WHAT!" they yelled in unison. Guinevere continued on as if she hadn't heard either of their out bursts.
"And in answer to your question, Galahad. Alanna is my younger sister." Alanna was turning a bright red and sputtering.
"Why must I share a room with him?"
"Because my dear little sister, his room is closest to mine and Arthur's so I could care for you easier and because there are no extra rooms in the palace. Therefore you will be sharing a room. I will have one of the servants make a bed for you on the floor, Galahad." Gwaine was trying hard not to laugh at the outrage on his friend's face. If only Galahad could get past the shock of his and Alanna's first impression than Galahad would realize what a beauty he was sharing a room with.
"If you say so my lady," Galahad said hoping for a way out of this mess.
"I do, and if I here fighting from this room….ever…then you will both be charged with being confined together in this room." Alanna's jaw dropped. When had Guinevere learned to fight dirty? "I want no complaints from you Alanna. If I hear an outburst of any sort…"
"I promise to be good Gwen." Alanna said reluctantly. "But only if he promises to be a gentleman." She added. The glare that Galahad flashed her was full of hatred but she met it head on.
"Galahad…"
"Fine Gwen I promise." He gritted the words out, making sure that the woman lying on his bed heard the hate in it. How did she make him want to kill her? Before she had woken up he would have died for her, not even knowing her name or her story. Now…Galahad was seriously considering why the people who captured her didn't kill her.