HAPPY HOGMANAY! HAPPY NEW YEAR! Anybody made any new year's resolutions?
I'm so sorry I haven't updated sooner but the interenet broke when we went up to Scotland so I couldn't access this... oh well. At least I've posted it now, yeah?
I was going to do a bigger thing but I need to dash. I'll do it later (sorry!)
The Curious Case of the Magic Mistletoe
Chapter 7 - Guinevere
The Servant stood in the shadows which one of the houses that lined the square provided. They were one of the rising numbers who had enough gold to build a wooden balcony that had become increasingly more popular since Arthur had taken over. She looked out, to where crowds of people had gathered to listen to the Town Crier. Arthur had given his speech announcing the Yuletide Banquet earlier, but not all had gathered due to their work or other issues.
"Long live our King!" A little boy shouted, after the Town Crier had given his announcement. His face broke into a massive grin which lit up the whole of his face at the news he just received. "Long live King Arthur!"
"Long live the King!"
Another shouted, and another and another, until eventually, the square ringed with the voices of Arthur's people. The ordinary citizens of Camelot who worked every single day voices held the pure sound of happiness and joy. You could hear it, feel the crowd's love that they held for their Royalty.
Guinevere closed her eyes to listen to it and inhaled deeply, drinking it in, revelling in their wonder and absolute loyalty that they had for their King until eventually, she too was smiling, partaking in the people's joy.
Suddenly, the shouts died down, and mutterings began, men and woman gossiping with their neighbours. Gwen opened her eyes, curious as to the reason why, before closing them briefly, with pain. It seemed that when she had been in peace, she had moved forward a couple of steps, so she was at the tip of the balcony's shadow and almost in the square.
A few meters away, still standing in the square was the boy who had started off the chant and from the way he was regarding her, the Servant knew that he could see her. And that he knew who she was.
"Thank you," he said sincerely, his eyes shining with gratitude for her actions. "Thank you so much." He stepped forward, holding something in the palm of his hand.
"I'm sorry," A woman appeared, darting forward till she stood next to her son, reaching out to stop him from entering the shadows, her mother's instinct kicking in, "Don't mind Jacob. He's a bit overwhelmed about the news that we will be dining with our King."
"Oh no," Guinevere said in return, "It's perfectly alright."
Hearing her voice, the woman leant forward, trying to see through the shadows which wrapped around the Servant like a cloak.
"Are you- Is that-"
"She's the King's Consort." Jacob said to his mother as she formed jumbled words.
"Oh!" Jacob's mother had a look of panic on her face, and quickly sank into a deep curtsy. "I'm sorry, My Lady, I didn't recognise you-"
"Please," She said, covering up her wince at the title with a soft smile, "Call me Gwen. And do not bow or curtsy," She added, seeing others begin to do the same once her name passed through the crowd, "I am not a Lady; I am just like you."
"But," Jacob's mother gasped, walking forwards a little, "You are so much more! You're the reason we are even allowed in the Castle this Yuletide!"
"Please," Guinevere said, as the crowd began to move towards her slowly. "Its nothing-"
"That's not true!" Jacob protested and he flung himself out of his mother's grip. The crowd was moving faster now and Gwen began to back away.
In the distance, on the other side of the square, it seemed like the soldiers stationed were finally kicking into action after seeing the crowd begin to move in one direction and the possibility of young children being trampled emerged.
What's so interesting over there then, eh?" An unfamiliar guard shouted out.
"Please," A familiar voice joined in coming closer, "Move along slowly. Beware of your children."
"We've been treated better!" A woman shouted out from the crowd.
"Kinder!" A man joined in.
"And it's all because of you," Jacob finished off triumphantly, a gleam in his eyes as he spoke.
I'm just an ordinary Servant, a woman," Gwen argued, "I'm nothing special. I have done nothing special."
She could see the crowd beginning to part, and the voices of the guard and the knight becoming louder as they forced their way through, pushing to the front as they tried to clear the bottleneck and potential stampede. Guinevere inched back a step as the crowd had become one big, pulsing mass with people seeming to be attracted to where she was.
"Could you all remain still, I repeat, could you all please remain still!" The guard shouted again.
"-Mindful of others. We do not want to have an accident now. Please, slow down!"
"But you have!" Somebody in the crowd continued, completely ignoring the guard and Knight and focusing on what she had just said.
"And you are!"
Guinevere was beginning to panic now. In their enthusiasm, the crowd was moving towards her because of what she was saying. Because of whom she was.
"And it's all because you are with our King –"
"No I'm not!" Guinevere shrieked, finally reaching her breaking point.
There was a deathly silence, where even the guard and Knight who had just been able to break through to the front where the source of the commotion was stopped moving. Liquid mahogany met honey brown and as she drew herself upwards, breathing heavily and her eyes stinging, Gwen concentrated solely on the Knight.
"I am... not with the King anymore. We have done the honourable action and have separated. He did it for the good of his Kingdom, for the good of his people. He did it... for you all."
"But, the mistletoe... you-you've been Chosen," Jacob protested weakly.
"You've been Chosen."
No. It couldn't be.
It wouldn't be fair... not after Arthur had just broken up with her and she had already broken His heart when she had chosen the Prince...
Chosen.
She looked up, daring to hope that perhaps Jacob had been mistaken and that she was safe, she was free-
Two healthy looking green plants, with glistening white berries that almost seemed to shine-
"No," Guinevere gasped, feeling as if someone had just hit her over the head. In a way, she supposed that they had; and left the mistletoe behind as a marker.
She had been Chosen.
Lancelot opened his mouth to say something, but before he could, Gwen turned and sprinted away.
It was Elsa who found her first.
When Guinevere ran, her instinct led her back to one of the few places that she felt safe and accepted and loved. One of the few places left where she could be who she was and wouldn't have to put up with anyone or anything.
She went home.
The Kitchen Maid found her with her knees pressed against her chest, sitting on top of her little bed. Her hair was loose and it rolled over her shoulders in one big brown wave, cascading down her back. She was grasping at little squares of parchment, the size of two of her hands placed next to each other upon which artists had drawn on.
"Oh Gwen," Elsa sighed softly when she saw her. She reached up and took hold of her own shawl, before placing it around Guinevere's shoulders. "I'm so sorry."
"How- how long have you known?" She sniffed, still looking at the paintings in her hand, the ones that she cherished the most.
Elsa began to twist and interlock her fingers together clearly uncomfortable with the question but nevertheless, crouched down so she was at the same eye level with the Servant.
"Since the first one appeared." Her voice was small and her eyes were downcast as she said it, ashamed on what she had done. On what she had kept secret.
"I-I see." Try as she might, Gwen's voice still wobbled and as she fumbled with the pictures, shuffling them so she could see that one, the one with the glass frame realisation suddenly hit her and she dropped them. The only reason that the glass didn't shatter that with her quick reflexes, Elsa caught them before they hit the floor.
"Merlin," Guinevere whispered, shock and horror and horror at herself leeching into her tone, her voice. "I argued with him – I hurt him because he wouldn't go near me – and it was because of the mistletoe and when he tried to tell me I shouted at him and then walked away – what have I done?"
"It's okay Gwen, Merlin's okay."
"But I rejected him. I hurt him with my cruel words and-"
"Hush up Gwen. Merlin understood. He's kind and he's caring but most importantly he's strong. He's fine. He knows what pressure you are under."
Elsa then shuffled the pictures so that the one that Guinevere had wanted to see – the one with the glass covering – was now at the front, allowing her to see it. The Kitchen Servant let out a quiet exclamation as she saw it, before gently handing it back to the owner.
"I never knew you liked yourself so much," The Kitchen Girl joked, trying to lighten the tension as her silver eyes scanned her.
"I didn't commission it," Gwen said, by way of an explanation.
She gazed down at the painting in her hand, before biting her lip to stop herself from bursting into tears again.
Staring back at her was a woman much more beautiful than she was. Her eyes were a gleaming honey brown that radiated kindness. Her hair was long and dark, the sides pinned up with a few curls left free to frame her face, the rest tumbling down her back. Her soft skin was the colour of polished oak and contrasted with the whiteness of the dress that she was wearing, the gold adding a touch of colour. Her lips were curved in a soft, caring smile which spoke of great tenderness. She looked like a gentlewoman.
It was clear that the artist held a great affection for the subject and cherished her with every stroke of their brush, painting not just a likeness, but their very soul into it.
She was not, and could never possibly be this woman.
"Was it-"
"No," Guinevere replied immediately, already knowing whom her friend was speaking of. "It wasn't the King. It wasn't... Arthur."
When she breathed his name, she heard her voice trembling and a single tear came unbidden. And then all that she had kept bottled up over the last few days, ever since that night came flowing out and she let it.
"Arthur..." She began hesitant at first, but gaining in speed as she spoke, "Arthur and I have split up. And although I do not like it, I accept that. A King and a Servant could never be together. I- I wish that everybody else would see that now."
Elsa gave a start at this but Gwen ignored her, the words coming out quietly, but confidently, safe in the knowledge that what she was speaking was true, justified and right.
"They just- they just can't let it go. I've heard the rumours Elsa; that Arthur has been Chosen. And now that I am, I know what everybody does and will think. That we are for each other, that we are Soul Mates. They are so close minded that they cannot see what's in front of them. They are alienating me with their ideals and- my god I feel so lonely, Elsa. So lonely and pathetic. No one comes near me, in case of the stupid shock and I just – can't they see? Can't they let go? Arthur does not love me. A person can love more than one person, you know."
Her voice grew quiet again, and Guinevere stared down wistfully at the painting which she still held in her hand.
"You can love more than one person." She repeated softly, gently caressing the painting.
"I know Gwen," Elsa said, gathering up said person in a hug, "I know. But I'm here, okay? You don't have to feel lonely anymore. I promise you."
Gwen sniffed into her, relishing the touch of another human, before pulling back, alarmed.
"How- how can you come near me? Touch me? The mistletoe – the shock-"
"Shh, shh," Elsa said, calming down a now distraught Gwen, "It's alright Guinevere, it's alright. It doesn't affect me; I can't feel it. I think it's because the mistletoe knows I'm not a threat. I'm with my Soul Mate. I don't need another."
"I'm not," Gwen whispered broken heartedly.
That night, she didn't sleep well.
It all seemed so obvious to her now and as Guinevere walked through the corridors with her head held high, she wondered how she didn't see it before. Had she always been this blind throughout her life? Or had she noticed them, but deliberately blocked them out so she could continue in relative peace?
The effects, the conditions were so clear now. It was like the drip of a tap, once you became aware it would follow you wherever you went, never stopping, never faltering. How people would part for her in the corridor, and keep their distance. How some would be sneering and others would smile when they saw her, or wear heartbroken expressions when they realised that she still hadn't made amends with the King and how she was still single.
The whispers were everywhere now. All around her, wherever she went, they would be there and now people didn't even bother to hide the fact that they were talking about her. After that horrible day in the Lower Town, if nobody had yet heard that she and Arthur had split up, they now did and the rumours about her increased.
And it was all because of the damn mistletoe.
And that people were wondering; if she had been Chosen, then who was her Soul Mate?
That was what they were whispering about in the corridors. Who she was matched with. Who she was destined to be with forever. And of course, one word, one name followed her like a ghost, like a shadow as she moved around the Citadel –
"Arthur."
Guinevere moved into the Knights' quarters, skilfully darting in and stripping their beds before replacing them with clean linen which she quickly made. It was the first bit of silence that she had had all day, and she cherished it and the task that it came with. She had a sneaking suspicion that Elsa had had something to do with it – and maybe Merlin – although she didn't have proof.
Moving on autopilot, she was surprised when she reached the end of the corridor, where the last quarters for Camelot's finest Knights lay. Knocking first and relived when there wasn't an answer, she stepped in and shut the door behind her.
It was colder in here and Guinevere shivered as she strode over to the bed. Unlike the others, this time she didn't let herself have the luxury of slipping of doing her chore automatic and she carefully took the pillows off and exchanged the dirty with new covers before placing them carefully on a nearby chair. She stripped the bed next, and as she shook the sheet free in one yank, something came whizzing off the bed and landed inside her laundry basket.
Curious, Gwen bent down to pick it up and her breath left her body when she saw what it was. It was a twin – an exact copy of the one that she too, held in her possession. As she gazed at the woman in the portrait, her eyes grew misty as she realised what it meant.
A cough sounded behind her and startled, Gwen dropped the portrait onto the chest of draws and with her other hand which still held the dirty sheets, requlished her grip so that it too, fell, but this time into the basket.
"I'm sorry; I didn't mean to startle you." His voice was soft, compelling. "Poppy told me where you were but if you're busy I'll come back later."
"There's no need," Gwen said, turning around to face him, forcing a smile on her face. "These are your quarters. I was just leaving."
"Please," Lancelot said, "Stay for a moment."
He took a step forward, regarding her with such intensity that it sent shivers down her spine. Lancelot noticed, for a moment later, he was standing in front of her, wrapping a beautiful crimson cloak around her shoulders.
"I insist you wear this. You're freezing."
"I- thank you." Gwen's protests died in her throat as she beheld the concern he had for her.
"How are you fairing, Guinevre?" Lancelot asked softly. "I saw what happened in the square the other day. I'm sorry I didn't get there in time-"
But Gwen was already shaking her head. "It wasn't your fault, Lancelot."
"I went to your house yestereve to check on your wellbeing but there was no light so I left. I thought you were sleeping and I didn't want to disturb you but I was worried – you left with tears in your eyes. That should never happen to a lady... Especially one like yourself."
Lancelot reached out to hold Gwen's hand and bowed, pressing his lips softly against hand, the gesture seemingly intimate. His touch was light and his lips were damp.
"Thank you," Gwen said, ducking her head awkwardly, "For caring. Few do."
"That's not true and I will fight for your honour against those who proclaim that," Lancelot said at once, standing straight again. "We all care a great deal about you; Merlin, the Knights and I... Arthur."
"No," Guinevere said sadly, turning her head away to avoid Lancelot seeing her bit her lip in pain, "Not Arthur."
A warm hand reached out to touch her face and caressed it gently. Lancelot turned Gwen's head so that she looking at him and he stepped closer, gazing deep into her eyes.
"My King does sometimes not see what is right in front of him. I am sorry to hear that you have separated. Let it be known that I will always be at your side, Guinevere, whether you ask for me or not. There are still some of us who care."
Then Lancelot turned and left the room and even with his cloak covering her, Gwen felt distinctly colder than she first did when she entered it.
That night, Guinevere had a dream instead of a nightmare.
So sorry about it all being in Gwen's POV but I thought that we needed it. After all, until last chapter, it had all been about Arthur and how he was (not) handling it and how Merlin was trying to convince him. But Guinevere is important as well and I felt that she wasn't being given enough credit.
Please review.
I have exams next week and they would really help me get through my revising!
