New Surprises
The forest was not as dense was ones she had encountered before. This was the fifth clearing they had rode through and discomfort twirled around her stomach. They headed further north. Vast mountains were seen in the distance, mountains they had to pass. While the horses drank from the stream, Lancelot turned to Ava, raising an eyebrow.
"What's wrong?"
"This is hardly useful," she sighed in exasperation, "we'll get caught if we keep taking breaks like this."
Lancelot tossed her a smile that instantly vanished her stresses. "We'll fight them. You haven't forgotten how to fight, have you?"
"I fight well," Ava replied brusquely.
Lancelot chuckled, remembering fondly how nervous she used to be. "You've changed," he mentioned, quickly adding, "i-in a good way of course."
"A lot of things happened after you left," she muttered offhandedly.
"Does it explain this," he asked softly, holding her wrist. She glanced down at the bloodied fabric. The dry stain was a stark reminder of danger she had faced. She guessed Percival would have slipped that out too, but maybe the man could keep some secrets.
"Slave-trader," she stated, "it's a long story."
Lancelot frowned, her curtness did not go amiss. Ava had changed much since their last encounter. Independent, strong and resilient. But, she was also a closed book, one he was struggling to read.
"Sorry, I wish I was there to help." Lancelot caressed her hand with his thumb.
The touch burned her like fire, and she pulled away, temporarily forgetting the ability to think. "There no need for an apology. Some things can't be avoided."
"How did you escape?"
"Magic," she winked. "But I lost a lot of good friends along the way. I couldn't help them."
"And that's not your fault," he reminded her. "You can't save everyone, no matter how much you try."
"If I was better at magic, I could have."
The village inn was full, but thankfully the owner was kind enough to lend a room. Granted it was a storage room, but Ava and Lancelot were glad they could avoid the rain for a few hours. The sound of droplets hit the room, and there was a small leak near the corner. The two sat huddled together by the candle flame. Ava leaned on his shoulder as he wrapped the threadbare blanket around them.
"You haven't left my mind these past few months," Lancelot confessed, "I believe I committed a great mistake abandoning you."
"You love Gwen, remember?" Ava remarked, unable to keep the scorn out of her words. "I've accepted that."
She pulled away from his and sprung on her feet. She walked towards the window, watching the droplets run down the thin glass.
A pang of sadness pierced his heart as her harsh voice cut through the thick air. Lancelot stared at her, his once unyielding stare beginning to falter. The pain behind her words was palpable, and though Lancelot understood how agonising unrequited love could be, how one must struggle and accept such a brutal fact, he fell speechless.
The love he was too confused to define was reignited the more he watched her... but Ava believed his heart loved Gwen. He was falling in love with Ava again, and this time, he wasn't frightened by it.
But it was too late. She hated him. Lancelot reluctantly swallowed the ever increasing bitter lump lodged in his throat as Ava scoffed at his reaction. To her, his silence proved that he loved Gwen. That was the only explanation for the sudden change of expression. She watched as his gaze immediately dropped, confirming her fear for the umpteenth time. Her impassive façade cracked, despondency washing over her. A familiar pain stung her, but she refused to give in, blinking back potential tears.
"You taught me how to move on," Lancelot's whisper was barely inaudible, "my feeling for Gwen vanished long ago."
If she was stood farther across the room, she would never heard the precious words. He refused to be a coward, regardless of how much Ava may despise him.
Blazing elation erupted inside Ava. Joy shot through her body as she stood there in a stupor as he walked towards her with careful, quiet steps. Her jaw slacked, inundated with cold disbelief.
Was this really happening? Was it another dream?
Her hands froze as Lancelot took her hand in his warm, callous hands. Hands hardened by the battles he won and fights he endured. She felt safe. His dazzling eyes gazed into her astounded ones against the flickering candle flame around them. For the longest time, he stopped as if he was attempting to read her mind. His proximity enveloped her like a warm blanket on a winter's eve, arousing anticipation hotter than the fire melting the candle wax. Lancelot licked his lips, and Ava realised she couldn't resist.
She couldn't resist his magnetic charm, his alluring eyes that seemed to reach the depth of her soul. His hot breath caressed her lips as he hovered mere inches away from her face. He brought her hands to rest on his chest and she gasped unexpectedly, feeling his heart beating as fast as hers under his white shirt. His hand travelled to her waist, gently drawing her closer to his body and effectively eliminating any space that existed between them. If this was a dream, it was certainly the most realistic one she had ever dreamt. Yet he remained still, standing above her, his eyes unblinking, as if they were seeking permission to close the gap between their lips.
How she longed for a moment like this. It was simply too good to be true! Did Lancelot share the same yearning, the same hope and undeniable interest she did? Ava fluttered her eyes closed, giving Lancelot the permission his eyes sought. As their lips touched, a jolt of indescribable delight shot through them. His lips moved against her, slow and utterly satisfying. The smell of rust, sweat and dirt wasn't the most appealing scents, yet as Ava closed her eyes, none seemed to matters. The world around her disappeared and her mind submerged into a loving, warm bliss. It was just her and Lancelot. Why didn't she feel the same irresistible fervour when she kissed Layton?
Layton?
Oh, shit, Ava internally cursed.
Her eyes flew open wildly as she jerked her head back and pulled her arms away from Lancelot, as if his touch burned her. They panted panted heavily, reeling from the passionate embrace. Lancelot's face crumpled in confusion as horror dawned on Ava. She shook her head frantically, taking several steps backwards.
"Did I do something wrong?" Lancelot asked, his tone laced with utmost regret.
"I shouldn't have done that!"
"Why do you regret it?" he asked, his voice broken and perplexed.
"Layton," Ava simply said. The name should fade whatever feelings for Lancelot remained deep inside the crevice of her heart, but it didn't.
"Who is Layton?" His eyes darkened as his voice became low. She recognised the fear hiding behind his words all too well. After all, her words carried the exact same fear whenever he mentioned Gwen.
"My paramour."
The light of dawn roused her from her slumber. Trees surrounded her, the sky a pale blue. Last night's rain dried up, but the cold was still unforgiving. Ava heaved herself up with a groan, stretching her limbs after being curled for hours. She pulled the blanket around her shoulders, desiring warmth against the frosty morning. Her stomach grumbled, reminding her of her aching hunger once again. This time, a piece of bread alone would not suffice.
The revelations of last night were still fresh in her mind. She touch her mouth, absent-mindedly smiling; the kiss she shared with Lancelot. Her hand dropped: she betrayed Layton. Ava turned her head sideways, but then her eyebrows furrowed.
"Lancelot?" she said, worriedly glancing around.
There was no sign of him. His horse, too, was missing. He must be out to find food, Ava thought with conviction. He wouldn't leave her alone... unless he was in trouble. Apprehension bubbled inside her, her mind suddenly racing to the worst case scenarios. Ava climbed on to her horse, pulling the reins. Ava spotted fresh tracks on the ground and followed it deep into the forest, until they stopped.
"Lancelot!" Ava called, her voice reverberating through the trees.
"It's not safe, run!" he yelled, the dread clear in his tone. As if she'd leave him!
Lancelot glared at the smuggler. The man's arrogance somewhat receded as he inched the sword away from his neck ever so slightly, his haughty smirk uncurling. Lancelot knew why; a blade pressed on his attacker's back as the wielder came into view.
"Let. Him. Go," Ava ordered, punctuating each word with cold menace. "Drop your sword and turn around."
Much to Lancelot's relief, the man obeyed and raised his hands up after his sword landed near his foot. Lancelot furrowed his eyebrows in concern as Ava lowered her sword as the man rotated. A pang of surprise and unease hit him and the smuggler grinned.
"Layton?" she murmured, recognition sparkling in her eyes.
"Ava," he said, his arms pulling her into a hug. "It is lovely to see you again."
She stared at him incredulously, allowing the embrace yet somewhat reluctant to return it. Unholy jealously gnawed at Lancelot as he shifted his stance, repulsed by the scene. He clenched his jaw as Layton released Ava, a nauseating smile plastering his punchable face. Layton framed her face with his hands as she looked up at him, curiosity flashing in her eyes.
"What are you doing here?" Ava asked, glancing at his clothes, or rather uniform. "Why aren't you at the village?"
"He's a smuggler," Lancelot spat, aiming his sword at Layton's chest.
Ava stared at Lancelot, apprehension intensifying as she looked back at Layton, catching his split-second smirk. "You told me you were a blacksmith," she said quietly, taking a step back from him.
"I am talented more than one thing, love," Layton replied nonchalantly. "You, however, never told me about your fighting skills."
"It was hardly of importance; I gave it up before I met you," she shot back. " How could you not tell me that you're an outlaw, a criminal?"
"See," he sighed, "that's why. I prefer the term tradesman."
"What you do is illegal according to Camelot's law," Lancelot interrupted, "you ought to be imprisoned."
"And who are you to tell me that, a Knight of Camelot?" Layton snarled, raising his sword again. "You're just as pathetic as the rest of us. We do what we have to do to survive."
The swords clashed as each side sliced the air, in hopes of injuring the other. Lancelot's grip tightened on his sword as he dodged Layton's blade with ease and thrusted his sword with newly found aggression and dark vigour, catching Layton off-guard. Landing a solid punch on his opponent's face, Layton stumbled backwards, attempting to regain his balance. With a snarl, he slashed at Lancelot, but he was too quick for him. Lancelot's twisted Layton's arm, the pain causing his to loosen his hold, the sword flinging away from him. The sharp, deliberate move was executed with such speed and dexterity, Ava was could barely comprehend what just transpired.
"Stop fighting!" she yelled, as if if she was scolded two young boys.
Lancelot reluctantly lowered his sword, his steely glare not leaving Layton's stupefied face. "What are you after?"
"Your sword," Layton panted, wiping the blood tricking from his mouth. "It was forged in Camelot, right? Selling it will fetch a handsome reward indeed."
"You must be insane to think I'd hand it over."
"Perhaps you were a knight after all," Layton surmised, his words coloured green with envy.
"So you're a thief too?" Ava scoffed, shaking her head in disappointment.
"I am the leader," he snapped, "and I have been given a mission. My men are coming, and if you don't give it up, then you will be locked up."
"You never did care for me, did you?" Ava asked, disgusted with herself to have ever considered this disgraceful person worthy of her love. Repugnance stirred inside her, as she chastised herself for being an idiot.
"I did," Layton confessed, his eyes softening. But then a burning resentment burst in them as he spat a mouthful of blood on the ground. "But you never did. Why else would you hide secrets from me. You were never honest with me. I tried, but I realised I was a blind fool. You would never let me in, no matter what I did!"
"That's not true," she whispered, his words cutting her like a blunt knife. His words held truth, she knew this deep down. Throughout their relationship Ava hid her true self, never disclosing her magic to him. But that was the only thing she hid from him, nothing more. As magic was abhorred by the mass, it was logical to conceal it from him. "And what of your secrets, huh?"
"You left me and didn't bother to tell me where-"
"-I was kidnapped!"
"I wanted to come with you that day, and if you weren't so stubborn-"
Lancelot felt rather awkward as the two exchanged angry retorts back and forth.
"How was I supposed to know that would happen?"
"It's been almost a year and no word from you. If you escaped, why didn't you return to the village?"
"I promised a woman that I would fulfill her dying wish. I couldn't simply go home!"
"Right... and now I meet you in the woods with another man," he scoffed, his glower turning to Lancelot, who unrelenting glare bore a proverbial hole through him. "Who knows what whorish things you've done behind my back!"
Lancelot slammed the pommel of the sword behind Layton's head, immediately rendering him unconscious. As his body thumped on the ground, Ava quivered, bemusement replacing her previous frustration.
"I cannot stand by and let him talk to you like that."
The ruffling of boots and guttural yelling in the distance forced their attention to the surroundings. The men Layton mentioned were arriving. And fast. Ava sheathed her sword as Lancelot jumped onto the horse, offering his hand to help her up. He pulled the reins hard, and the horse galloped away.
"We can't go back," Ava said in resignation. "The Forest of Brechfa was the fastest route!"
Lancelot studied the map as Ava paced back and forth.
"We could take a detour past the City of Camelot and the Lake of Avalon," he said, pursing his lips, "but it'll take a week's journey."
"I don't know if I can handle another week of you," Ava replied playfully.
"I'll make it worth your time," he quipped with a smirk.
A silence soon followed, and Ava realised how silly she must look staring at him like that. She cleared her throat, tearing her gaze away from him and to the map on the grass. "How easily can we evade the patrols?"
"I know some knights quite well," Lancelot grinned. "It shouldn't be a problem."
"How?" Ava probed, astonished, "did you know the royals?"
"Something like that."
The mischievous glint in his onyx eyes told her he had secrets of his own, and she was going to find out exactly what they were,