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The night air was sweet, and thick with the scent of summer, and the sound of music, the fast drumming of the Woads. Branwen found herself slipping quietly across the stone paved square, skirts flowing liquidly around her feet, and towards the open tavern. There was plenty of merriment and singing and dancing going on, but the priestess simply slipped discreetly through it all, taking a seat at a small, empty table just inside the tavern. All she really felt inclined to do was watch, and listen to the music that reminded her of home, of Avalon's shores...
"Can I get you something to drink, my Lady?" A woman was asking her, breaking Branwen out of her revere. The barmaid was smiling, with green eyes and curls of red hair the same color as Branwen's, a telltale sign that she had some northern blood in her. The young priestess smiled, to see a somewhat familiar face...in fact, Branwen felt like she had seen the woman before...
"Yes, I'd like that..."
"On the house, it isn't every day I get to meet a priestess," The woman smirked, "And in my own bedroom, at that." At this Branwen turned a deep shade of red, and the maid laughed. "Don't worry, I had a good laugh over it. I'm Vanora." She grinned, "I'll get you something strong, you look like you need it."
"Oh do I," Branwen sighed as Vanora left, and went back to watching the dancing, the hands falling rapidly against the skin of the drums, the woman sitting on Galahad's knee, laughing with a sweet, trilling voice. Branwen found herself studying the woman, who was dark-haired and fair skinned, and quite beautiful. The knight whispered something in her ear, and she gave him a playful smack, before raising her voice to join in the song one of the Woad women started up.
Branwen sighed, more then a little bit envious, but then she quickly chided herself. What right had she to wish herself a different life, when the goddess asked of her a faithful service? Her life in Avalon was a good one, and not to be grudged, and besides, she was a priestess now, and afforded much freedom. Still...it was hard not to wonder what she'd already missed out on.
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She was unaware that eyes lit brightly by the flickering firelight were watching her as well, taking in her slender hands, her long bright hair, and her brown eyes that seemed so far away. Gawain was unable to stop staring at her, and knew that soon she would realize it, and sure enough, her eyes caught his in surprise, and he found himself smiling. Slowly, her full lips spread and smiled back, and Gawain felt his feet move him forward, across the room."Would you like some company, priestess?" He asked, and she nodded, still smiling.
"Call me Branwen." She replied softly, as he took a seat at the table.
"Branwen, the Beautiful Raven." Gawain stated with a grin, and she nodded, blushing a bit.
"I don't much look like a raven, but yes." She said, "And Gawain...White Hawk." He nodded.
"While my father served here, my mother met a priestess who gave her son the same name, she liked it." He nodded to her, "What brings you here alone, lady?"
"Eiluned wanted to sleep, and I was restless," Branwen sighed, looking back at the drummers, "The music reminds me of home..." Her eyes shut for a moment, caught in the pulse of the beat and Gawain could not pull his eyes away from her, and her graceful profile, her eyes that seemed so wise, so odd on such a young face.
Vanora returned then, setting a mug of ale before Branwen, "I see this devil has found you," She grinned, "Sure now Lady, and be careful not to get tangled up with a knight, I should know well enough."
"You're too kind, Vanora, blessed mother of half of Arthur's future army." Gawain shot back with a grin, and the barmaid gave him a mock glare.
"Yes, well, at least I'm making some contribution." Vanora turned back to Branwen, smiling, "Now I think I'll turn in for the night for real," She winked, "Are you sure you can find your way back to your own room tonight? Or should I be expectin' another interruption?"
"I think I'll be fine." Branwen grinned, even as she blushed scarlet. Vanora laughed.
"Goodnight priestess," She turned to go, "Gawain don't get that Sarmation stain on her, at least not yet." She threw over her shoulder as she went.
"Interruption?" Gawain queried, grinning as Branwen took a long drink. She noted that this was becoming a nervous habit, alcohol to quell the nerves, and oh how it helped.
"Yes," She coughed, forcing Vanora's last words to her from her mind, "Eiluned and I thought the dining hall was in the opposite direction...I'm afraid we interrupted a um...a knight's good time, shall we say."
Gawain laughed at the mental image this produced, the two fair, composed priestesses on the receiving end of Bors' wrath, and Branwen had to laugh as well. A Woad passed the table, as their laughter faded, and dropped to his knee before the priestess, taking the startled Branwen's hands in his.
"Lady," He spoke, in the flowing language of his people, "It is a great omen to see you here! Has The Lady of Avalon come to give her blessing on Arthur?"
"She has indeed." Branwen replied, smiling kindly, suddenly becoming the powerful priestess again. "And tomorrow, we shall all journey to see our King wed, by the sacred Stones."
The man smiled, folding his hands before his forehead, before he rose, and left her side. Branwen looked back at Gawain, who had been watching her intently, and her eyes dropped back to her hands. "The people know the marks I bear, as the goddess' servant. It comforts them to see me, come from Avalon where her spirit dwells." She picked up her mug and took yet another long drink, wondering what he would think of such talk. She knew he was not of those shores, perhaps he thought the native people's beliefs nonsense. But then, if so, she would have no time for him...or for anyone who thought such. But he surprised her...
"And what of Avalon, Branwen?" He heard himself asking, a touch of longing in his voice, "Often I've heard of it, at harvest fires and midsummer Beltane..."
"A good Pagan, Sir Gawain?" Branwen looked back at him over her ale, a teasing glint in her eye, and Gawain laughed nervously, and nodded.
"Yes, now and then," He grinned. She laughed.
"Avalon has become quiet in the years of the Romans and their wall." She said after a moment, "Priestesses were sent out when they could manage, to let the people know that we were still there, that the goddess still lived..." She smiled, "Now, things will be as they once were, long ago. Avalon will surely be in its glory again..."
"One can hope..." Gawain noted softly. Branwen looked at him closely then, fingering the charms around her neck absently. He was attractive; she'd had to admit that when she'd first set eyes on him. Now she was able to study him, as he watched the dancing, and as her nerves were loosened. His eyes were beautiful, she decided, and she'd seen many men in her lifetime...druids, chieftains, and woad warriors...none of them had ever had eyes like his.
"Tell me," She asked softly, and he looked back at her, "How did a Sarmation come to embrace our goddess?"
"Ah," Gawain smiled, looking down at his own pint for a moment, one hand moving across his chin thoughtfully. "Well, many years ago when I was about sixteen, a fellow knight, Aaron...he died a few years back...heard about the Beltane fires," He grinned, "And like any brash young man, he wanted to know how to get involved. When religion was brought up, he quickly dropped the subject." Branwen laughed, and Gawain smiled, "However, myself, Galahad, and another...Dagonet..." Here, his smile faded, to one of bittersweet remembrance, "We were intrigued. I spoke to a few followers of the old religion, and it made sense to me, and to Dagonet most of all." The grin returned, "He used to say that a woman had to be in charge of things, a man wouldn't have bothered with putting so much color in the land." Branwen smiled, as the knight sighed, "He died not long ago, before Lancelot and Tristan..."
"He was a great warrior." It was a statement rather then a question, and Gawain nodded.
"He was indeed." He said, with a soft conviction, as if it were his friend's proper eulogy. They were silent for a time then, but a comfortable, contemplative silence, the music and the drink lulling Branwen's senses to a peaceful, restful place. Suddenly Gawain looked back at her, with that slow, warm grin. "Would the priestess care for a dance?"
Branwen laughed nervously, shaking her head, "Oh no, that you don't want to see," She stated, "Give me an arrow to kill a Saxon, give me a gravely ill man to heal, give me a pregnant woman to midwife, but do not ask me to dance." Gawain laughed.
"That bad, eh?"
"Only the goddess could get me to move my feet." She proclaimed.
"Well then, perhaps I shall just have to wait until Beltane then?" He winked, and she blushed, even as she smirked back.
"Perhaps you shall." She replied, and then yawned, realizing how late it was getting. "You may, however, walk me back to my room...I actually don't think I can remember where it is."
"And we cannot have a repeat of the previous encounter, who knows what Bors would do." Gawain grinned, standing and offering his arm to her. She took it, smiling back at him, wondering at how comfortable it felt to be in his presence, as they made their way back towards the main hall...
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The girl on Galahad's knee watched them leave, eyebrows raised in surprise. "Since when is your friend such a gentleman?" She asked, to which Galahad grinned.
"I'm not sure...she must really be something, I'm guessing." The girl sighed wistfully, and then shot him a sharp look.
"Oh? And what does that make me, eh?"
"Oh..." Galahad smiled wanly, "You're something too."
"Thank you." The girl smiled, pleased, before she'd let that statement sink in fully...
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Author's Notes: Awwww...give me two more chapters, fluff will abound before the drama starts happening. Unfortunately for ya'll, I'll be gone until sunday --
But I'll be writing while I'm at the lake, so never fear, plenty of Gawain lovin' when the weekend is over ;-)
Everyone who has reviewed, YAY I love you, here have some gum hands out gum and the soul of my first born hands out contracts