It's a short chapter. The rest will be a bit longer. I don't own Merlin.
2
Two months later
Guienvere had traveled quite far. After walking through Cenred's lands, she then was in Mercia. She worked odd jobs here and there, but she didn't feel as if Mercia was the place for her to settle.
Who was she kidding? She missed her home. No place would feel right, she was convinced of that.
But she couldn't go back.
The time on the road of course, gave her too much time to think. After replaying those final days over and over again, she realized that everything went horribly wrong once Lancelot had given her the bracelet.
She felt like herself before and after wearing it.
While wearing it, she felt…so attracted to the resurrected knight. When she first felt the attraction, it felt odd. She'd felt nothing for him in years. At night she was plagued with dreams of him, his laugh, his kind and gentle manner, his smile. The next morning she had to see him, which was why she snuck into his tent.
Seeing Lancelot intensified her attraction. It no longer felt odd. It felt natural.
But when she kissed him, it didn't feel quite right.
Hearing Arthur's roar snapped her back to her senses. In the damp cold cell of the dungeon, she could scarcely believe her actions. Ripping off the offending jewelry was akin to being doused in cold water.
She was awake.
She felt in a bit of a fog while wearing that…thing.
She looked talked and outside of her attraction to Lancelot, acted like herself. But her mind…looking back, she saw that she was no longer her clearheaded self.
Which only meant one thing, even though her mind rebelled at the very thought.
That bracelet was enchanted, and it affected her. Nothing else made sense. How could she go from loving Arthur for years, being over Lancelot for years, to suddenly feeling as if she needed the knight more than anything?
The more she thought about it, the more it made sense. And though she had no proof, she had a sinking feeling Arthur's uncle was involved in it somehow.
When she first realized magic was involved, she nearly turned back to her banished homeland.
Several thoughts stopped her. One, she had no proof she was enchanted. But the main thought was that no one stopped to think that she was acting out of character. Not Gaius, not Elyan, nor Merlin. They all believed she was fickle, a woman whose emotions were uncontrolled.
That hurt. It was if no one she called a friend truly knew her at all. A true friend would know something wasn't right. She always had known when things were right with them. The feeling of being friendless kept her away. Why go back to a place where the people you thought cared flaked on you?
Her answer was to keep walking.
Her cart was gone. She sold everything on it and traded for a horse back in Escetia. Her life was simple. She wore a tunic, trousers and boots, leaving her hair in a simple braid. She kept a knife in her boot and her money on her person.
After being in Mercia, she decided to travel to Tintagel. She'd never heard Arthur mention traveling quite that far. She heard that it was a pretty large kingdom, and that King Marche was fair and just. With her mind made up, Guinevere traveled with purpose.
She made great time that day, and she felt quite proud of herself as she made camp for the night. Shaking out her bedroll, she flinched as she felt a sting upon her neck. Numbness spread through her body as she fell to the ground in shock.
What's happening? She thought to herself. She tried to move her limbs, but they felt so heavy. She heard the crunch of several footsteps heading towards her. Guinevere's vision became fuzzy as she saw a cloth move towards her face. She struggled to get away, her body felt so weak.
The cloth was over her nose. Unintentionally, she breathed in.
Her world went black.