"I don't believe I've ever seen a more pathetic sight, Sir Gawain." Guenevere's voice sang through the afternoon air, breaking the knight out of his thoughts, as he stood atop the fortress walls of Viroconium. He turned, and managed a smile to her, as she climbed the stairs and stood beside him, leaning against the stone. The breeze stirred in her hair, pinned through with summer flowers, and a contented smile was on her face, the smile of one who was in love. Gawain fancied the girl couldn't contain it, leaning back with her fingers holding the stone ridge, the normally serious and fierce young woman now giving off the aura of a playful child. She'd had bouts of this, ever since the wedding a week before.
"And how is our fair queen this day?" Gawain asked, light hearted enough, for her sake, and Guenevere looked at him for a long moment before giving her reply.
"I am well," She nodded, standing straight again, looking out over the green hills that rolled on toward the wall. "Still wondering what that title entails, exactly, other then my being wedded to Arthur." Guenevere turned to look at him then, "What of you, Gawain?" She smiled, softly "What has plagued your mind these past days, since Arthur and my binding?"
"Ah, nothing plagues me," Gawain forced a smirk, and Guenevere rolled her eyes.
"Spare me Gawain, I am a warrior as well," She reminded him, suddenly all of her old self, "And I know you won't speak of it unless I ask. Arthur has noticed a sorrow about you, and he wonders if it is lingering sadness over your fallen comrades."
Gawain sighed, "It's not that...though, part of me feels like it should be that." He shook his head, "Tell Arthur it's nothing to worry about, just a woman."
"You'd do well not to use those words in front of any woman." Guenevere pointed out, and Gawain cracked a small grin. "You speak of the priestess, Branwen." She stated, and his smile left him, as he replied with only a nod. Guenevere nodded, turning to look back out over the land.
"I have been to the fires twice before, Guenevere," He spoke softly, "I have laid beside women I never saw again, who very well might have borne me children, whom I shall never meet by all odds. But that has been little pain to my soul, a small regret at best. All was done in joyous worship, and celebration of the season of life. But now..."
"She lingers in you." Guenevere whispered, and Gawain could only nod. The Queen of Britain sighed, nodding slowly. "It is not unusual, Gawain." She told him, a hazy quality in her tone, "My father's second Beltane, he lay with my mother, a Woad, and afterwards he longed for her like no other...finally, he went out to find her," She smiled, wistfully, "He stayed with her until the day he died." She turned to him then, reaching out to touch his face, "Seek not the Goddess' chosen, that is what they will tell you. Only she can choose you."
"I am sure, that I will have little time to think on these things..." Gawain leaned heavily upon the wall of stone, eyes gazing sightless. Guenevere nodded.
"Wait and see," Was all she said, turning to go, "Oh and Gawain?" The knight turned, and Guenevere smiled, "Arthur has planned a meeting tonight, to discuss future plans. He has missed your company, as have Bors and Galahad, I would expect."
"Tell the king I will make more of an effort to be lighthearted." Gawain managed a smirk, and Guenevere was satisfied, at least for the time being. She turned, and made her way down to the courtyard, skirts swishing about her ankles. The knight looked up to the sky for a long moment, wondering how the weather was in Avalon...
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The mists enveloped her, the hazy damp air like a comforting blanket to her, the comfort of home. Branwen shut her eyes, as Morgaine rose and parted the mists, the gates of Avalon, and they sailed on through to their island. The young priestess was calling on all of the healing power of that place, to make her spirit light again.
They stepped off of the barge amongst the reeds and waterfowl, a great company of priestesses and novices gathering to greet Morgaine. Through the crowd of women, a little six year old girl was pushing her way forward, running towards Eiluned, her arms outstretched.
"Mama!" She cried, and Eiluned lifted her with a joyful laugh.
"My Nimue!" The Priestess exclaimed, carrying her dark-haired daughter along as they made their way up the smooth stone path to the temple, "I trust you've been minding Raven in my absence?"
"Yes Mama." Nimue nodded solemnly, and behind them, Branwen smiled. In their world, daughters were given to the goddess, and sons who were not Druids were fostered elsewhere. Most of the time, a priestess did not acknowledge any of her younger children who might live in Avalon with special attention until they were grown, unless it was a special occasion. Nimue was already wise enough to grab those moments when they came. The girl would be clinging happily to her mother's skirts for the rest of the day, as the novices rested and Morgaine informed Avalon of her brother's virtues, bravery, and honor.
Branwen's smile faded, looking at the little girl, and the bright adoring eyes that were fixed on her mother. She remembered when Nimue had been born, and how Eiluned had wept. Already, she had watched her two sons leave her as toddlers, her eldest with the Druids, her second with the Woad chieftain who was his father. Then she had been given a daughter, whom she would have to watch grow up from afar. All women in Avalon went through this, and most were fine after a time, watching their girls grow in beauty in their service to the goddess. But Branwen did not think she would ever be able to stand it.
Morgaine sat in one of the great stone halls in the temple, women gathering to sit at her feet, yet Branwen slipped away, after whispering to Eiluned that she needed rest. Her feet trod familiar, ancient paths over the worn tiles of the temple, up the great stairs and to her room. The door was simply an arch that connected her room to Morgaine's, the hard stone hung with soft, translucent blue tapestry that Branwen had woven as a young girl. Now she ran her hand through it for a moment, before crossing to her simple bed, to sit and gaze out of the window, over the fair green country under the misty, clouded sky. An elbow resting on the sill, her chin resting on her palm, she was both weary and listless at once.
Branwen shut her eyes, wishing with all of her heart that this feeling within her would go away. She longed to feel the all-encompassing joy that returning home had always stirred within her. She whispered a prayer that the goddess would find her and bring it back, that perhaps all she needed was sleep. The priestess slipped out of her robe, and curled up on her bed, shutting her eyes tightly against the pain in her temples, and in her heart.
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Allerick turned a hazy glare to the sky above his camp, wondering at the sunshine that penetrated the clouds so. It didn't seem the sort of day that commanded a lofty spectator, but perhaps that was just his dented mind prattling on to itself. Seemed it did that a lot as of late, ever since word had reached him of his older cousin Cerdic's defeat. Sure, there'd been little love between Cerdic and himself, but there had been a mutual, albeit grudging, respect. As jealous as Allerick had been when their grandfather had chosen Cerdic to take his place as high chieftain, he'd known it to be a wise choice. His cousin had been cunning, ruthless and a damned good warrior. In less then ten years, Cerdic had amassed the largest army the Saxons had ever known, and now to hear that he'd been defeated by six knights and the primitive native Woads...
Allerick drew his sword for a moment, lifting the blade to his face, where he could glare at his faint reflection. With both Cerdic and his son dead, Allerick was now high chieftain, yet that brought him precious little happiness. There were few Saxon warriors left to him, only those who'd been posted to defend the home fires and a few who'd been wounded at the time of Cerdic's marching. Allerick would have been well advised to stay on the home soil, and spend the next couple of years regrouping.
But that was just not the way of it; it was not the way a Saxon took revenge. And vengeance was indeed in his heart, for while he'd not loved Cerdic; he did know that his predecessor's once successful campaign would reflect upon him. The people were outraged and bloodthirsty, and looking to him to set things straight. Of course, there was nothing Allerick wanted more then to crush Artorius' skull with a battleaxe, but it just didn't seem possible at that point in time...
Now, he looked up at the young spy, who'd been standing before him outside of Allerick's tent, after giving him the latest news. The Saxon Chieftain sighed, setting his sword aside.
"So, Arthur's wedded that Woad wench, has he?" He spoke, in a rough voice that suggested he didn't speak much. "What, is she carrying his child?"
"By all accounts no," The boy shook his head, "Apparently, he loves her." Allerick coughed.
"Well, that will be his undoing," He smirked, and then paused, rubbing his beard thoughtfully. He'd been joking, but then again, perhaps he was right... "And what of this business about the people naming him their king?"
"That's it." The boy stammered, "He plans on campaigning all over Britain, building his army, and the people's support."
Allerick cursed. Rome had all but left the island for the Saxon's taking, the least Arthur could have done after Cerdic's defeat was to be just as wounded. But no, now he would build up an army from the barely cooled ashes...
"This is going to take something new, boy," He mused, muttering more to himself then anyone else, "Something more cunning...something more cruel."
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Author's Notes: Yay more.
It's hard writing the inbetween, forshadowing stuff, especially for me because I like getting to the meat of the stories (which is a bit odd, concidering I've recently gone vegan). But I'm fairly happy with how this aspect of the story is going, and the reviews help sooooo much
Had to get Nimue in there. Had to. Her name is too fun to say to have her overlooked in this telling of the legend. She'll play her old meaningful part too, to some degree.
In other news, I have my computer in my apartment, YAY! No more sharing a machine with anyone. No more headphone headaches, as my inspirational writing music wafts harmlessly through my rooms, instead of blasting in my ears to drown out whatever was on tv...I'm so insanely happy XD