A/N: Special thanks to DrowningBlonde for being a sounding board for this story. Without your help, I'd still be stuck creating the world. Thanks for all the support!
Saber Rider and Voltron characters belong to their specified animation and branding companies. All OCs belong to me. Please don't sue me. I sincerely hope you enjoy this story. I will say there are some possible trigger scenes for those that can't handle rape or beheadings, either skim past or don't read. [I will make further notation for affected chapters].
"How is he today, Offeiriades?" Merida asks as she enters the small room.
"His song grows stronger everyday. His body has taken well to the changes," the priestess replies, not looking up from the patient.
"Gawain says he's talking in his slumber now. But that he says nothing makes sense."
"Aye lass, his language is similar to ours, but this human has seen things that we have not seen. So many words are foreign to us. Many of them not good, judging from his condition. But the work you have done is close to miraculous. Not many could have done as you have."
The man stirs on the cot, his eyes opening briefly before slowly closing again.
"Hmmm, he may wake soon. You should check his wounds, Merida. It may be more difficult once he is awake. I cannot say whether he will cooperate when fully aware."
"Aye, Offeiriades. I shall ask Gawain to help bathe him before he wakes."
The priestess nods. "I'll send for him. You begin your preparations."
"Aye, Offeiriades," Merida replies, inclining her head.
The priestess leaves in search of Gawain and Merida begins slowly removing the few bandages from around the man's abdomen, arm, and leg. Struggling to keep him in a semi-upright position, she nearly drops him when she realizes his eyes have opened and he seems to be staring at her. Letting out a little yelp, she manages to stop herself from outright dropping him, and carefully lowers him back onto the mattress. "You're awake?" she says hesitantly.
The man nods slightly, "Water?" he manages to squeak out hoarsely, his voice raw from disuse.
Nodding, she goes to a small table in the corner, and pours a bit from a pitcher into a clay cup, before bringing it back and helping him sit up slightly before holding it to his lips, tilting it slowly. He starts to try to drain the cup and she pulls it away quickly. "You should take small sips. Otherwise, it'll come right back up." He nods slightly, so she places the cup to his lips once more and he sips from the cup at a slower pace."
"Thank you," he manages weakly after several small sips.
Noticing his fatigue, she lays him back down, and covers him with a blanket. "You took quite a beating. Do you know what happened?" she asks hesitantly.
"No," he admits.
"Your name?" she queries.
He closes his eyes in thought. "I… I don't know," he reluctantly admits, after a long silence.
A noise in the doorway causes her to turn. "Oh good, you're here," she says to Gawain before turning back to her patient. "This is Gawain. I'm Merida. We need to bathe you, so that we keep away infection. I know you're still weak, so it will take both of us to do it."
"Alright," he replies uneasily.
Gawain steps closer and gives him a friendly smile, "You ain't got nuthin' she ain't already seen, Lad. It's 'cause 'o her you're still livin'," he says attempting to put the man at ease.
"You just try and focus on staying upright, we'll get you clean and into fresh clothes as quickly as possible," Merida says kindly.
Gawain Goes to his side, and Merida behind him. Gawain offers his arm, and places a hand on his back to help support him.
With help, the man manages to sit up. Merida removes his shirt and cuts the remaining bandages loose in a fluid motion. He nearly jumps from their grasp when the damp rag touches his back. Gritting his teeth as the cloth brushes against his skin, tensing at the new sensation.
"I apologize. Your skin is still healing from the burns. Perhaps I should have warned you," Merida says apologetically. "I thought it might not be so bad now, since you've flinched less these last few times."
"He was unconscious those last times, Milady. I'm sure everything is heightened now that he's conscious," Gawain says with a hint of both amusement and sympathy.
"Perhaps these markings can give us a clue as to your identity. They look to be two shields or crests slightly over lapping," she says as she washes his shoulders and upper arms.
"Crests?" the man asks.
"Aye. I've been researching and I found one similar to one of them in our archives."
"Oh?" he asks, grateful for the distraction.
"The name Lancelot. I believe it is a surname."
"A family name?" he asks.
"Aye. I believe so."
"It could be, I suppose," he admits.
"Well, we need something to call you."
"How about Richard?" Gawain offers. "Richard Lancelot."
Merida smiles. "What do you think?" she asks him as she pats his skin dry after running a cleaner through his hair and then rinsing it.
"I suppose it's as good a name as any," he replies, through still gritted teeth.
"Very well, I dub thee Richard Lancelot," Merida says brightly, tapping him gently on each shoulder.
Gawain laughs, then stiffens his grip as he feels Richard start to fall backwards. "Hold up, Lad. Just another tic or so. Let the lady get your shirt on ya."
Richard sucks in a breath and nods slightly, tightening his grip on the other man's arm for support.
Merida holds him up as Gawain helps him into the other part of his shirt, then they gently lay him back down before Gawain helps him into some trousers.
"I'll go and fetch him some broth and you some soup," Gawain states, getting a nod from Merida. He turns to the doorway and leaves the two alone in the cavern.
Looking around, Richard studies his surroundings. "Electrical lighting?" he asks.
Merida nods, "Aye. Solar powered. Most things are here."
"Where is here?" he asks, feeling a bit emboldened.
"Lachäwr," she replies.
"Doesn't seem familiar to me."
"I'm fairly certain you're from someplace else, Richard."
"Why?"
"Because you were nearly burnt to a crisp from radiation and falling through our atmosphere."
He stares at her in shock, his mouth slightly agape.
"Sorry, perhaps I shouldn't have been so blunt," she says by way of an apology.
"Um, the other man, Gawain. He called you Milady. You're of noble blood?" he asks pointedly attempting to change the conversation focus.
"I suppose you could say that," she replies quietly.
"You suppose?" he asks with a hint of amusement as he makes to sit up.
Noticing his movement, she rushes to his side and helps him sit up. "You really should ask for help. Though in a couple more days, you'll probably be fine to sit up on your own. I don't want you back tracking though, so please let us assist you."
After accepting her help he nods, "Duly noted. Thank you," he replies quietly.
Gawain comes into the room carrying two bowls of soup on a tray. He takes it to the small table to the left of the bed and sets it down. "I apologize for taking so long, but the Offeiriades asked for an update."
"Ah. Did she seemed pleased?" Merida asks.
Gawain nods, "Aye. She may come later to greet our guest personally."
"Excuse me, but who or what is an Offeiriades?" Richard asks.
Merida brings a bowl over to him and holds it out, "It's just broth. Do you wish to try and do this yourself? You seemed to have a good grip earlier," she asks.
Richard slowly reaches up and takes the bowl, his hands shaking slightly, as his muscles adjust to once more being used.
"To answer your question, the Offeiriades is our Holy Leader, our Queen," Gawain replies. "For her to come and personally visit you should be considered an honour.
"I see," Richard replies slowly as he sips the broth from the bowl.
Merida takes her bowl and slowly starts to eat the stew. "Perhaps on the morrow you can try some bread with your broth, provided you tolerate the broth today."
"How long has it been?" Richard asks suddenly.
"What do you mean?" Merida replies.
"How long have I been here?" he clarifies.
"Nearly nineteen cycles," she replies.
He stares at her, obviously trying to compute time to a familiar quotient.
"How do you calculate time where you're from?"
"Solar years. Normally three hundred and sixty-five days, sometimes one more added every fourth year. Twelve months to a year."
"Ah. Well, it's a little different here. One circle or completion of four seasons equals four hundred of our days. We have twenty-eight awrs in our day. With fourteen cycles each circle."
"I notice there are no windows in this room, am I a prisoner?" he asks hesitantly.
Merida shakes her head. "Nay. You're not a prisoner. We are underground," she replies slowly.
"Underground?" he asks surprised.
"Aye. We exist below ground to keep our people safe. Once upon a time, we had castles and homes, and temples above ground, but the blue men razed our homes, scorched our sacred temples and enslaved our people. Slaughtered many, raped and tortured others. Only those who escaped to the caverns and hid deep within managed to survive."
Richard looks shocked and sickened by her words, unable to speak.
"I think perhaps you've shared too much too soon, Lady Merida," the Offeiriades says as she enters the room.
"Of course, Offeiriades," Merida replies with a bow before casting Richard an apologetic glance.
"It is good to see you aware, young man. You have been through quite an ordeal."
"So I've been told," Richard replies quietly. "I thank you for saving my life, Offeiriades."
The woman smiles, "Have you recalled anything of where you are from? I know it's only been a couple of awrs, and given the trauma, it may be some time before your memory returns."
"I have not Milady," he replies obviously fatigued. "Lady Merida and Master Gawain have given me the name of Richard Lancelot, so that they have something to address me by."
"Yes, Richard is a strong name, I feel it suits you. But, I think you should rest now. You've done too much. Allow Merida to focus on healing you, and you sleep. You shall not come to harm here, as you are our guest. We shall talk more on the morrow."
"Aye Offeiriades," he replies as he carefully lays down after giving Merida his bowl.
The Offeiriades nods to the two of them before leaving them alone once more.
"Merida laughs as soon as she's sure the Offeiriades is out of earshot. "Master Gawain?" she asks as she laughs more.
"Should he not be addressed as such?" Richard asks half asleep.
"He might like it, but he does not have such a rank. He is a skilled hunter and one of our few guards, but we do not address him as 'Master or Lord' those are reserved for men who are in service to the temple, or are head of a court."
"I see," he replies barely awake.
"Rest now, Richard. Either myself or Gawain shall be here if you need anything," she says, then smiles as she realizes he's already asleep.
1Lachäwr - Welsh - Terran-like planet that is home to a race of natural healers. More scientifically advanced than their Terran counterparts. They are human like, but their lifespans are typically three-four times that of a normal human.
2cycle - time measurement equal to one lunar month (28 days)
3circle - time measurement equal to a year (400 days)
4day - time measurement equal to 28 hours
5awr - time measurement equal to 60 tics (minutes)
