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Guinevere wrapped her arms around herself and shivered slightly as the cool breeze tugged at her hair and chilled her skin. Even tucked away on the battlements she was aware of the guards nearby, and felt a prickle of irritation. This was her place. A spot that she had chosen as a sanctuary whenever she wanted to be alone, or merely wished to watch the surrounding countryside and remember her former life. The guards were necessary, she acknowledged, as much for Arthur's peace of mind as her safety, but the thought that she was now deemed a weak woman in need of protection still rankled.
"May I sit down?" The voice behind her made Guinevere jump, and looking around she saw Githa, one eyebrow raised questioningly, her greying hair rippling in the breeze.
"You may." Pretending to study the forest, Guinevere watched from the corner of her eye as her aunt settled herself down with a sigh.
"I am not as young as I used to be," the Woad woman said ruefully. "I prefer softer resting places these days."
"Then you are welcome to go and seek them out," Guinevere said with unaccustomed sharpness. Githa made her nervous, and as far as she could see, was partly to blame for Hengist's crimes. The older woman seemed to sense her thoughts and smiled sadly.
"I do not blame you for being angry child. With all my heart I wish that I could have stopped this."
"I'm not a child," Guinevere bit out. "And you could have stopped this if you had wanted to. Your husband, your son have killed innocents - a child for the goddess's sake! Why didn't you do something?"
Githa was silent for a long moment, and when she finally spoke her words were soft and heavy with pain. "I was the same age as you when I married my first husband. His name was Darrow and oh I loved him." She smiled wistfully, "he had eyes the colour of the sky and a smile that could turn snow to sunshine. The Romans slaughtered him two weeks after I gave birth to our son. I have never known such pain, such complete and total loneliness. Were it not for Wulfhere I would have joined Darrow in the afterlife. I thought that I would never love again."
"Then you met Hengist," Guinevere said quietly.
"I did, yes." Githa turned to her niece. "Understand, the man that is out there, the man that threatens you and yours is not the man that I married. Hengist was kind, funny, he gave me hope and my son a father. We had many happy years together - years that even his actions now cannot erase. Our daughter's death broke him and Brigid picked up the pieces of his soul and made him into something else. You blame me for what has happened," she met Guinevere's eyes fearlessly. "But understand I loved him, I loved my son. Brigid is far more powerful than me - the only way that I could have stopped them is to have killed them, and I…" She shook her head, blinking away tears. "It matters not now, they are both lost."
"I'm sorry," Guinevere said honestly. "You came here, you've told us what you know, that's something, I won't forget it."
Githa gave a faint smile. "Too little too late, I fear."
"My father," Guinevere said tentatively, "you said that this Brigid and he…" her voice trailed off as she tried to think of a way to phrase the question. Githa saved her the trouble.
"They were lovers for a time. Merlin was shattered by your mother's death - he did not look at another woman for many years after she died, but Brigid was young, she was beautiful and fascinated by magic. I suppose that he was flattered. It was only later when he learnt her true nature that he severed all ties with her."
"Her true nature?"
Githa shifted uncomfortably on the cold stone. "You know the rules of magic as well as I Guinevere. You know to respect it's power, not to upset the balance of things. Brigid cares nothing for the rules, nothing for restraint. When Merlin refused to teach her further she turned to those who would, those who did not shy away from the dark arts."
"The Daughters of Fire?" Guinevere asked. "You said that she leads them."
"That she does, but she worked her way up to her position over many years. Ida and I were part of the coven for a time before we realised what they were willing to do for their beliefs. I saw things…" she closed her eyes and sighed.
"And they just let you leave?" Guinevere tucked her knees under her chin. "They didn't try and stop you?"
Githa gave a bitter laugh. "No, they wished us well and we were grateful for that fact. It was too easy - we should have been more suspicious. My daughter was dead within the month; my daughter who had never been sick a day in her life, and Hengist became a far more devout follower to them than I had ever been."
"They killed your daughter?" shocked, Guinevere turned to her aunt. "Didn't you tell him what you suspected."
"From the first time he went to them Hengist, my Hengist was lost. He no longer heard a word that I said, almost as though he were a puppet waiting for its strings to be pulled. I waited for him to change, to return, but things only got worse."
For a moment both women were silent.
"We have to stop them," Guinevere said eventually, "we have to find a way."
Githa gave a laugh and held up a hand when her niece looked at her in confusion. "I'm sorry, it's just that you remind me so very much of your mother - she was too brave for her own good too." Sobering, she reached into her pocket and brought out the silver torque that Ida had tried to give Merlin. "The Iodhan Moran." Placing it in Guinevere's hand, she smiled. "The silver was mined from Wicklow and blessed by the Fomorian druids there; sun worshippers of great power. Brigid's magic is rooted in darkness, place this around her neck and the different magics will cancel each other out."
"So she'll have no power?" Guinevere looked at Githa who nodded.
"In theory anyway."
"So you aren't entirely sure?"
Githa sighed. "I only know what I've read and been told. There has never been an occasion before where it has needed to be tested."
With a rueful laugh, Guinevere ran her fingers over the twisted metal. "Well then, for all our sakes I hope that you are right."
Lucy sat crossed legged on Tristan's bed watching him dress. She had brought him his breakfast and shared it with him, snuggled in his lap. He hadn't said much, but he seemed content to listen to her prattle away about the comings and goings at the tavern and her suspicions regarding Kyrie and Galahad. Running a finger over her bottom lip still swollen from his kisses, she caught his eye and blushed as he gave a knowing smirk.
"I don't know why you look so pleased with yourself," she muttered with mock indignation. "You look even more untidy than I do."
Tristan gave a yawn and walked over to her, running his fingers through her thick hair and pushing it behind her shoulders. "Unlike Lancelot, I have better things to do than spend my time preening in front of a mirror."
Wrinkling her nose, Lucy laughed. "Like skulking around the forest you mean?"
"Really, Lucy, do you really think me that lacking in imagination?" She caught the wicked flash in his eyes and swallowed hard. After last night that was one thing that she certainly could not accuse him of.
Noting the way her cheeks coloured and guessing the cause, he smiled and kissed her leisurely, revelling in the way she opened to him, sweet and unafraid. Reluctantly pulling away, he half picked her up and set her down on the ground.
"Arthur is waiting," he said buckling his breastplate and reaching for his sword. "I have to go."
Lucy nodded, stretching and moving towards the door with a last longing glance back at the bed. "I should probably get back to the tavern too, Vanora will…"
"Lucy!" Tristan said in exasperation, grabbing her arm as she made to walk out the door. "How many times to I have to tell you not to wander around alone? I will walk you to the tavern and you will give me your word that you will not leave it without an escort."
Lucy pulled away a little defiantly. The knowledge that he was worried about her sent little butterflies of happiness flickering in her stomach, but she wouldn't stand for being ordered around like a child.
"I am quite capable of taking care of myself, thank-you very much," she said crossly. "I faced the ghost monster twice incase you've forgotten."
"You ran away," Tristan pointed out dryly.
"Yes… but…" Lucy struggled to think of a suitable retort. "If I had had a sword and knew how to fight then I wouldn't have done."
Blinking at that particular piece of logic, Tristan took Lucy's arm and ushered her out the room, kicking the door shut behind him. He had no intention of stifling Lucy's independence, but there was no way on earth that he was going let anything happen to her either. The tavern was quiet, several of Vanora's children playing a game of tag the liveliest things in the large courtyard. As Lucy made to walk away with a smile, Tristan pulled her back into a dark corner and kissed her thoroughly. Pinning her gently against the wooden wall, he looked at her seriously.
"Remember what I said. No running off on your own." Lucy smiled and pretended to think about it.
"Alright, but only if you promise to be careful. I like you much better when you're not injured." Biting her lower lip provocatively she shivered at the way his eyes darkened.
"Wench," he muttered giving her a swift kiss. "When we are married I'll have to keep my eyes on you." Letting her go, he turned away and strode out the tavern to where the rest of the knights were waiting, leaving Lucy blinking in surprise.
A/N Hmm only about four chapters left I think - the end is in sight hooray! Thanks very much to everyone who reviewed the last chapter.