The next morning, the sky was covered by greyness. There seemed to be fog and rain and dirt all at the same time. A strange type of storm was coming. Guinevere took a deep breath, allowing the cool air to freeze her lungs. She wasn't sure if she was ready for it. Merlin's words continued to run in her head, and she hoped, but doubted, that they were untrue.
She stood with her fox-skin pelt close to her face. She had her battle gear on today, boots, trousers, and so on. Gwen didn't want anything on her that the pig king can pull or ride up. If it had been her choice, she would not ever return. But the matter was still not closed, and so she had to make sure the king heard her message again.
Close behind her was Galahad and Percival. She knew that the young knight had been uncomfortable not leaving Gwen alone last night, but she couldn't help that.
They stood atop a low hill, which the queen found somewhat ironic, overlooking the tents of the opposing forces. The knight she had asked to fetch the king was casually making his way back to them, almost as if he did not talk to Lot at all.
"Where is he?" she asked forcefully.
"I'm sorry, my lady," the knight bowed down low, "But he cannot make it here to meet with you."
"Why not?"
"He's planning with his generals."
"Planning what?"
The knight grimaced much like his king, "An attack."
Just then, a scream came from behind them at the foot of the hill. The queen and her knight swiveled around to see what it was.
"The tents!" a foot soldier screamed, "The tents! They've attacked the tents."
It seemed almost pointless for him to continue yelling, for they saw, panned out behind the hill, knights scrambling to put their armour on, tents burning and tumbling down. Without a moment's hesitation, Galahad grabbed the queen's arms and lead her quickly down the hill. Percival was already a ways ahead, drawing his sword and joining in the battle.
It took a while for Guinevere to wriggle out of Galahad's grip, and by the time she did, they were on the edge of the forest which fringed the field, on which the knights bled.
"Get me a sword, Galahad," Gwen ordered, turning back to the battle.
"My lady," the boy yelled, "What are you doing? We must get you to safety."
"Fine," the queen suddenly stepped close to Galahad and with one smooth motion she drew his sword from his belt and ran off, "Get yourself a sword."
. . .
"Lot's men!" Percival bellowed, elevated above the battleground, "Behold!"
Gradually, each knight stopped their swords and turned to see the announcement. Some cried out in anger, others in triumph, but most remained silent, waiting for the events to unfold. There, with Percival's one knee pushed against his back, was King Lot, his hands bound behind him, his lip bloody, his knees scraping the wet grass. Percival had the pig king by the hair with one hand and he used his other hand to raise his sword in great victory.
"Unless you want your king dead, put down your swords."
Clinging then came from the crowd as swords began to stroon the ground. Camelot's knights kept them up threateningly just in case any decided that the life of their king was a risk they were willing to take.
"And leave!"
One by one, the knights obeyed. With their heads down, they moved towards the other side of the battlefield. Some tried to ambush Percival, but did not see the ring of Camelot's knights surrounding the captured prisoner.
When the men had gone, the knights brought Lot back to the queen's tent. Inside, Guinevere was busy tending to the wounds of several knights, Galahad included. Her braid had come partially undone and dark curly hair came flying about from her temples. Her clothes were tattered and bloody. This was not the queen that came to negotiate with Lot the night before. At this, Lot let out a deep and guttural laugh.
Gwen turned and saw the state the other ruler was in. He too wore clothes in tatters. Drool and blood dripped from his chin as he smiled sinisterly.
"Well, well," she said, with bandages still in her busy hands, "I was right. Thank you for sticking by your tradition of not fighting amongst your own men. It made you that much easier to find."
"You look more like me than you do yourself," the king croaked.
Guinevere threw down the gauze and leaned down so she was face to face with her opponent, "I fight alongside my men and if that limits me from my usual made-up hair and elegant sleeves, then so be it. Who you saw last night is not who you are about to see."
And with that she returned to wrapping gauze on her knights' arms. Lot tried to get up from his knees but Percival pushed him brutally back into the soil.
"You are sly," Gwen continued without looking at King Lot, "You attacked my men without any honour. The last death count was thirty-five on both sides, and every single one of those souls were lost because of your insolence."
With a deep sigh, Guinevere turned to face Lot once more, "I gave you a chance and I'm giving you another. You once drank wine with my husband and I am trying to remember that. Take your army and leave. Don't cross the borders again."
Lot laughed once more, "How about... no? You can't kill me, that'll mean definite war. Can't do anything to me, really, without my men coming after me."
"You won't leave us alone?" Gwen asked, noting that this will be the final time.
"No."
"Then you leave me no choice."
The queen handed the gauze over to another knight and got up. Walking past Lot who still kneeled pitifully on the ground, she whispered to Sir Leon at the doorway to assemble Lot's knights at the foot of the hill.
. . .
"Knights under King Lot," she began in an authoritative tone, "I am Guinevere, Queen of Camelot. I ask you first to listen to what I have to say and consider it. I understand that some might find it hard to listen to anyone but a king, and maybe even to another king besides their own. I then ask that you see me as a friend. How many have lost someone they knew today? Someone they liked or talked to or even just known about?"
A few hands hesitantly raised, but others swatted them down.
"Was the cause you fought for today worth dying for? Or was it just the greed of one man, wanting to take advantage of a poor village? You may still support your king and he may still be popular, but what happens when that king asks you and those around you to lay down your life simply because he wants to raid a village?"
Gwen swallowed, this was the moment where she needs to convince the crowd, and she was never able to do that as well as Arthur, "Go back to your kingdom. Call on the prince of the land, the king's third son, to become the next king, for his father has passed away."
"They killed the king!" came a shout from the crowd, "For Lot!"
A lone sword rose in a sea of armoured bodies, but for a long while, no one moved. Some seemed hesitant, some seemed bewildered, and some seemed even happy. Those who wanted Guinevere's head was waiting for their fellow knights to attack, but they were coming about too slowly. This was Gwen's chance.
"How many of you want to die today?" she paused, "How many?"
Every pair of eyes were on her.
"We did not attack your king. He took a blow from our defense, and one that one wound killed him. I am sorry for your loss. I am so sorry. There's been enough bloodshed today. Go home to your families. We will not threaten any of them if you do not threaten us. I vow it. Honour your new king and tell him of my promise. And ask that he remember dining with Arthur and Guinevere Pendragon."
Soon after her speech, some began to turn back from the hill and head across the vast fields of green. Guinevere recognised some faces, those she had met while visiting Lot with her husband long ago. They looked back at her with recognition as well, some even with gratitude. She could only imagine what they suffered through under Lot's hand. Gwen remembered those pair of hands on her, and tried not to shiver.
Some other knights looked at her with disgust and hatred, but allowed themselves eventually to be pulled away by their comrades. The battle had ended, and they did not want to waste their lives for a king they barely loved. Gwen only hoped that the young prince would be different from his father as Arthur was once different from his tyrant of a father.
When the knights became tiny shadows on the horizon, Guinevere headed back to the tent. Now, King Lot was tied to a chair with two guards, Galahad and another young knight no more than three years older than Lancelot's son. They got up when they saw their queen, but she hastily waved them down.
"We leave at dawn tomorrow," the queen informed them, then turned to the bloody king, "Your throne is gone. Your people don't love you enough to fight anymore."
"Let's hope I've taught my boy well then," Lot snickered, but Gwen sensed a tinge of fear in his voice, "For he will avenge me."
"You have forgotten that I have seen that sweet boy," Gwen said, "He is nothing like you."
There was a pause as the king observed Guinevere's cold face. He was starting to realize that she was not the kind soul she was when she had visited him those years back with her husband. She was not like Arthur.
"Apologize for your actions," she demanded, much like to a child.
"What?" Lot laughed, "For last night? I ain't gonna apologize for that."
The scrape of a sword came from Galahad's belt. Gwen turned to see him gritting his teeth and breathing heavily in anguish.
"Keep him alive," the queen ordered, "Other than that, do what you want with him."
And with that, Guinevere stalked out of the tent. Lot peered over at his two guards, one, he knew was called Galahad, but the other was unknown to him. Camelot had gained many young knights over the past years after Arthur's death, no doubt from all the stories of his magnificent court and knights and adventures.
"What did you do to her?" Galahad asked quietly, his face contorted with pain, "What did you do to her?!"
Lot found it suspicious how the boy was so bothered by the safety of his queen. He found it even hilarious. He wanted to mess with the boy. "Nothing you would understand."
Suddenly the knight gave such a piercing scream that even his partner guard seemed startled. Galahad pounced in front of Lot's chair and grasped the sides of it. "What did you do?!" he growled.
Lot made sure he pronounced his words clearly, "Nothing."
Galahad screamed again and this time, the sound continued and filled the small tent. The young knight took Lot by the belt and cut through it with his sword. Then, rather strangely, he pulled down the king's pants and castrated the king. Galahad, at the last stage of his rage, threw it as far as his arm would allow.