a/n: Thanks for the feedback, Mandamirra10 and silverwolfneko-chan! Did anyone else read the last chapter? I was a little disheartened by the lack of response, but oh well. Thanks for reading!
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There were more spectators than usual today. Actually, whenever he or the other knights sparred, no one bothered watching. But there was a crowd today.
Tristan ducked under Gawain's blade, the force of his swipe over his head making a swoosh through the air. Quickly, Tristan twisted his wrist and blocked another attack. He spun away, though Gawain followed. Tristan brought up his sword, parrying once before knocking Gawain's sword aside and thrusting for his midsection.
Gawain grinned after he leapt back.
There was applause around them. Tristan groaned quietly.
"Playing to the crowd?" Gawain asked, quiet enough for Tristan to hear, and hopefully only him. He lunged with a new attack. Tristan defended himself.
"They never cared before," he said between breaths. As he ducked again, his eyes zeroed in on a few of the bar maids amongst the other townfolk watching.
"You weren't nearly king before."
Tristan grunted as Gawain kicked at him. He took the impact, going down to a knee-annoyed even more when the crowd gasped-and then launched back to his feet and swung at Gawain's neck.
"No one watched when Arthur sparred," he muttered. Gawain shrugged.
"Arthur never sparred after he was made king. Besides, all the excitement about the wedding, someone trying to kill you-you're a sight to be seen," he said. From his smile, Tristan knew he was being mocked. He attacked anew with enough energy that the smile on Gawain's face disappeared into intense concentration.
"Is this how it's going to be after I marry?"
"It certainly won't be how it is for me when I marry," Gawain said. Tristan snorted at that.
"If you ever marry."
Gawain stabbed at him for good measure.
The scout's muscles felt good after the match, although he felt a little more worn than usual. He attributed that to the poison, but his recovery was better than Ciernan hoped. Tristan sheathed his sword. Gawain stood by two goblets, draining one to quench his thirst. As Tristan neared, Gawain picked up the other goblet, his eyes meeting Tristan's. He took a sip.
"Are you going to try all my drinks?" Tristan chided, taking the goblet without waiting. He drank as well.
"I'd rather be safe."
"I'd rather you not risk your neck for me," Tristan shot back.
"You should have thought about that before your engagement."
The glare Tristan sent his way did not erase Gawain's smile. The knight seemed to take extra pleasure lately in rubbing in any annoyance to Tristan.
Footsteps came their way, hurried by the sound of their pace.
"Make way!" came a voice. Tristan could hear its urgency. The man running towards them was a guard Tristan recognized. The guard was out of breath but trying to hide it. He noticed the townspeople around them and drew close for only Tristan and Gawain to hear.
"It's a prisoner—the chambermaid," he said.
"Hathwyn?" Gawain asked. The guard nodded emphatically.
"We did not pay attention to her. She made such a racket—they all do down there," he said. "But she might be telling the truth."
Tristan stepped towards the man. "What truth?"
The guard gestured for them to follow. As he led the knights to the sub terrain cellars that served as the prison, Tristan tried to discern what the guard meant. Hathwyn might be telling the truth now? He scowled; he wasn't surprised if there was more she'd hidden. He should have insisted on pressing her further, forcing her to talk and suffer.
She scurried to her feet when she spotted him and Gawain. Her face bore slight indentations from the prison's bars. Had she been so earnestly waiting for them?
"My lords, please listen to me!" she said with such pleading that momentarily Tristan set aside his anger against the woman. "He is here!"
"Who?" Gawain asked, while the guard stood aside.
"Him! The one who killed my brother!"
Tristan felt a harsh chill run through his body. "Where?"
Hathwyn stepped over to the barred window near the ceiling of the cell. "Out there."
"Open the door," Tristan muttered to the guard without taking his eyes from Hathwyn. With a squeak, the cell door was opened. Hathwyn shrank away when Tristan entered the cell.
"Do you know who?"
She shook her head. Her eyes mirrored the despair and urgency the rest of her posture showed. "I saw him come into the town in a carriage with an escort."
Tristan froze. A carriage? With an escort? He looked to Gawain.
"The wedding," Gawain whispered. Just two days until the wedding, and the town was filling up with those who wished to witness and celebrate the marriage.
"When?" Tristan asked. He grabbed Hathwyn by the shoulders. The woman whimpered. "When did he come?"
"Yesterday."
Tristan looked sharply to the guard. The man shuffled about uncomfortably.
"It was about noon yesterday."
"Why did you not tell us sooner?" Gawain challenged him, but Tristan didn't bother. He knew why—Hathwyn is a prisoner. Who would believe her?
He grabbed her by the arm, pulling her from the cell. She should have been eager to leave, but the firm grip Tristan had on her arm must have made her fearful instead.
Gawain fell in step with Tristan.
"Guinevere has been greeting visitors all day," he said. Tristan knew that, and with that knowledge—and what Hathwyn saw—his heart cinched tightly. He had to get to Guinevere, now.
They ran to the council room, just as Valden came out, all smiles.
The smile vanished when he saw Tristan.
"Guinevere?" Tristan asked, pushing past the councilor.
"She's meeting with Bladud," he said. Tristan felt a fury go through him. Bladud! He remembered how he'd treated Guinevere and insulted everyone. He charged into the room.
Guinevere was mid-sentence when Tristan pushed past the doors. Galahad immediately went on guard, but seeing Tristan and Gawain, he looked to them with some confusion.
Tristan surveyed the room. There were few others in the room with Bladud, but no one wore weapons. He glared in Bladud's direction before glancing to Hathwyn.
"Recognize anyone?" he said under his breath. Though frightened (most likely by his own intensity), Hathwyn's eyes swept over every face. They settled on Tristan's. She shook her head.
"Tristan?"
He turned to Guinevere. Though confused as everyone else, she did not seem upset. Tristan knew she trusted him and whatever reason he had for interrupting. He went to her side, motioning for Galahad as well.
"Hathwyn spotted the man behind the attacks," he said quiet enough that Bladud could only look their way curiously. "He's here. For the wedding." He didn't have to add that with this enemy in their midst, a wedding was most likely what he meant to stop—one way or another.
Gawain touched Tristan on the shoulder. "We need Hathwyn to find him, without him seeing her and knowing he's caught."
Tristan nodded. He glanced at Galahad then Guinevere. He hated how he felt; he was afraid, and he knew Guinevere could tell. He blinked and banished the emotion's trace.
"Guinevere, stay out of sight. If he's here, he has a plan," he said. She nodded, as did Galahad. Tristan caught her hand before Galahad whisked her away. He looked to their hands, brushing his thumb over her skin.
"It'll be all right," she said, filling in what he wanted to say but could not for his lack of certainty.
"Be careful," he said. She gave a slight smile and then their hands parted as she followed Galahad.
Tristan watched her leave, not moving until she left his sight.
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Galahad kept one hand on his sword. His ears were finely tuned to the sound of the queen's footsteps. No other footsteps but their own echoed off the stone corridor to her chambers.
His heart raced; he recognized the feeling—as if he were preparing for battle. Battle surrounding his home was not something he liked. There had been too much of it lately. Staying at Hadrian's Wall was really his only choice, but one he favored. Going home—well, home in Sarmatia did not exist anymore. And at least in Britain, he was free. His future children would be free too.
But freedom could be taken. Galahad's fist tightened around the hilt of the sword.
He pushed open the doors to Guinevere's chambers, barely slowing as he passed through and surveyed the first room. Everything was in place, normal. Guinevere followed him in. He took a step towards her bedroom until he heard her behind him. Changing his mind, he turned to the doors, closing them and blocking them from opening with a chair.
That's when he heard a heavy step from Guinevere's bedroom.
He whirled around, taking in Guinevere's wide eyes as she probably noticed his too. From her bedroom came one, two—no, five men. Their swords were drawn, except one man. He had a confident swagger, and Galahad recognized him instantly.
Falerin!
He could not think more on that before his body jumped into action. He kicked aside the chair he'd just placed by the doors.
"Go!" he shouted to Guinevere, and then stood in front of her, a buffer from Falerin and his men. Falerin grinned knowingly.
Guinevere opened the doors, but instead of her fleeing footsteps, he heard her gasp. Galahad spared a glance over his shoulder. Three more men stood there, men he did not recognize.
They attacked at once and in unison with Falerin's ambush.
Galahad pivoted away from one attacker and stabbed him through the heart. He jumped back again, seeing Guinevere wrestle away from one man's grasp. She managed to take his sword too. Galahad felt their odds improve.
Just barely.
"We're under attack!" Galahad shouted, hoping someone would hear, but the words were cut off as one of Falerin's men lunged at him. He had to defend, and with it his breath was spent quickly. Three others came at him, blocking his view of Guinevere.
He heard her shriek.
"Tristan!" she screamed, no doubt praying he was near.
With a surge of defiance, Galahad charged through the men, driving them aside. Guinevere was pinned to the floor, her hands being bound by two men.
And then, he felt a hard hit to his head. Instantly, he fell to his knees. He clutched at his head, trying to stay awake enough to stall these men.
Someone kicked him in the stomach, making Galahad fall to his side. Falerin loomed over him. One of his men stood by his side. He raised his sword, ready to drive it through the knight. Galahad waited for death.
"No," Falerin said. "Leave him alive. I want them all to know who their future king is."
He smirked, and then kicked Galahad in the face.
