I got sooooo many reviews! I love you people! This one isn't so heavy on the Mushy Romantic Crap but its still there. I couldn't stop myself from adding a note here in there (Thanks for the inspiration TalkIsCheap! Your story rocks my socks!)
Senor Mordecai-Marching Band indeed!
Kate- I couldn't help myself. The cooties were too good to pass up.
Nianko- I'm so glad I have a membership!
Luna Hime- Thank you so much! That's so sweet!
TalkIsCheap- I'm always scared when you make a threat! (JK)
Elvishprincess130990- I think I understood about half of that. My e-speak isn't up to scratch I'm afraid...Thanks for reviewing!
SunsetSparrow- You're welcome.
Shallindra- We'll have more Mushy Romantic Crap throughout the story, never fear!
TJ- I'm glad you like it! You're right, most people don't think about a Dagonet/Fulcinia romance. I've always been interested in the psychology of abused women, and Dagonet seemed so perfect, being so gentle and all.
Elvenstar5- I liked the chapter title as well. The proposal was a bit odd, but I like it anyway.
ChildlikeEmpress- Is that a good "wow.." or a bad "wow..." ?????
Camreyn- So do I! A triple or quadruple wedding would kind of weird me out. When I used to play Barbie's with my sisters, that used to happen all the time. Kind of killed my taste for such events.
Note- I have decided that Mushy Romantic Crap must be capitalized. It just looks so much better that way.
Guinevere sat at the fire. So many people surrounded her, but she had never felt more alone. Arthur hadn't spoken to her since last night in the forest. Rebekah and Sera were...busy...with other activities that Guinevere honestly didn't want to think about. It was far too depressing. Arthur was standing by himself, with his usual pensive expression firmly in place. He wouldn't enjoy the interruption, but she had to talk to someone. She wanted to know what he would do when they returned to the wall. Sera and Rebekah had been talking about taking the knights to see their families. Would he come too? There, he would see that the Woads were not the monsters that he thought them to be. All they wanted was their freedom. They wanted their land back. Didn't he understand that?
Guinevere approached, and his shoulders stiffened. It was the only acknowledgement he made of her presence. She was not welcome company. And yet, she was. He did not send her away. He didn't know why, exactly. She was the one who betrayed him. 'Or did she?' asked the nagging voice in his head. It was true; Merlin did not wish him dead. Merlin wanted him to commit suicide. Well, it was as good as suicide, staying here to fight the Saxons. Why would he even consider such a request? But he was. He was thinking about it far too much for his own comfort. His mother kept surfacing in his memory. She had told him stories of her people; they were still fresh in his mind. Yet, they had killed her. The Woads had killed his mother. Yet, Merlin had not wished her dead. She was of their blood, he had said. As was he. He had tried to hide from that fact since the day she had died. It returned now. He was not the full Roman that he wished he were. For better, or for worse, he was a Briton, just as much as he was Roman. He was resigned to it now. There was nothing he could do about it, and he was surprised to find that he didn't mind it. He was proud of his mother.
"Has it always been like this?" he asked her, suddenly.
"Like what?" she asked, confused.
"Do you always lead a man on for your cause?"
Guinevere was a bit stunned by his question. She was shocked with herself, when she realized that she hadn't been leading him on at all. Well, perhaps she had, in the beginning. She hadn't been pretending for long.
"No. I wasn't leading you." She said simply.
Arthur's brow furrowed at this. He was used to people lying to him. It came with the politics of being a commander. He didn't see a lie in her eyes now. 'And that,' he thought 'was thoroughly disconcerting and uplifting at the same time.' Disconcerting, as he knew himself to be in love with a Woad, and uplifted because she loved him back. He couldn't quite decide which feeling was stronger.
Guinevere was apprehensive. She couldn't tell what the man was thinking; his expression was as blank as stone. Not only was he essential to their cause, she found that he was essential to her.
"Well...that changes things then, doesn't it?" he said seriously, and kissed her. (Author's note-Sorry, it was just a little residual Mushy Romantic Crap that carried over from the last chapter.) Everything was right again. Guinevere didn't know whether he would stay with her, or leave for Rome, but at the moment, she didn't really care.
Gawain, Galahad, and Bors were the only knights around the fire. They all looked at each other, disappointment etched in their features. They didn't know where their fellow knights were, exactly, but they couldn't help but wish they each had a wench in their lap. (Bors, of course wishing for Vanora, if she asks!)
"I wish we'd hurry up and get to the wall. I've had enough of all this Mushy Romantic Crap." Said Gawain (Author-Yeah for Gawain! Rock on!)
"Well said. I didn't know Tristan, Dagonet, or Arthur had a romantic bone in their bodies. Well, we knew Lancelot was a hopeless slut, but that hardly explains the rest of them." Said Bors. He really was confused. He had rode with these men for fifteen years, and never had they fallen so head over heals for any wench, no matter how beautiful. Even Lancelot was breaking from tradition. Usually, he went for Buxom Beauties, yet he was currently starry eyed over a rather plain, small-breasted Woad. Life simply wasn't making sense. Well, at least he wouldn't have to worry about Lancelot keeping his hands off Vanora. Sera knew how to keep a man in line.
Galahad couldn't wait to meet the cousins. Women didn't exactly flock to him. These women didn't know him, so he could make a fresh start. Rebekah was gorgeous, even with the scarring on her body, and if she was any indication, there would be other beauties as well.
The days went by, and everyone settled into a routine. Arthur would send Tristan out to scout, Rebekah usually accompanying him. Dagonet had developed a strange attachment to riding in the wagon, so he let Rebekah ride his horse. Rebekah hadn't given Tristan his garments back, and he hadn't asked so she rode astride, unlike any woman Tristan had ever met. It was unusual for a Woad to ride as well as she did, but Tristan said nothing on the subject. They didn't say much of anything, actually, as they were scouting. They took their job very seriously. When they rejoined the caravan at night, they were able to talk of many things, surprising everyone who knew Tristan. Usually, the fewer syllables, the better had been Tristan's motto, but not now. While he still kept his words clipped and emotionless, he spoke at length to Rebekah. And she spoke at length to him. Tristan did insist on breaking up the exchange of words, with virtual silence (with the exception of a throaty moan here and there) too many words could ruin a relationship.
Lancelot and Sera shared a saddle, laughing and arguing over various subjects. Lancelot was terrified of meeting Sera's family, though he tried not to show it. What if they didn't like him? What if her mother was immune to his charm as Sera was? Sera, he could win over with kissing, but he didn't feel that this was a prudent way to win over a potential mother-in-law. He didn't know about all these family relations departments. What about his own family? He hadn't seen them in fifteen years; he had no idea how he would behave around them, now. Perhaps Sera would come with him to Sarmatia...but, no. He knew, without a doubt that Sera would never leave this land behind. She might go for a visit, but she would never leave this island for good. Lancelot didn't know if he wanted to leave it either. It had been home to him for fifteen years, Sarmatia was no more than a distant memory.
Dagonet and Fulcinia spent their days in the wagon with Alecto and Lucan. Lucan looked up to Alecto as a sort of demigod. He seemed to know everything, and never seemed to tire of answering questions. Fulcinia looked on this exchange with a smile on her face. They were behaving like siblings, just as she had pictured it in her dreams. Dagonet took her hand, and she raised her gaze to his. It was good to see her smile, and he joined her. Alecto had looked upon him with suspicion at first, but quickly grew used to the gentle giant's presence. He made his mother happy. She deserved some happiness in life. Lucan's arm was healing well, and in a few weeks would be back to normal.
Arthur and Guinevere spent their days in virtual silence. Words were not needed. She was happy, truly happy, for the first time in her life, and enjoyed the feeling. Arthur felt like himself for the first time in a long while. He supposed the last time he had had a real sense of self was before the flames had taken his mother. They were discreet, not wanting to bother anyone.
Bors, Gawain, and Galahad sat glumly by the fire each night, Rebekah occasionally popping in, trying to lift their spirits. Gawain pulled her into his lap every change he got, if only to see Tristan scowl as he did. Rebekah didn't mind, as it usually involved Tristan kissing her with great force, just to show up Gawain. She really didn't mind. Bors and Galahad would laugh at that, and daydream about the women waiting for them. Bors actually had a face on his lady fair, though Galahad had to be a bit more creative.
At night, the Woads shared a wagon with Fulcinia. (Just for the people with their minds in the gutter-yes, I mean you!) They spoke as they usually did about what had transpired during the day, and what it would mean in future. The Saxons were discussed often; they had not forgotten the threat that was nearly at their doorstep.
On the last day of their journey, Tristan and Rebekah went out scouting as usual. All was going well, until she froze. Someone was there. Actually there were many 'someones."
Laim watched from above. Who dared enter these woods? Then he recognized the woman, and his heart nearly stopped in shock. They had thought her dead, and he had wept. Yet, here she was, alive, alert, and suspicious. Gods, he loved this woman. He was in charge of the Woads on watch duty, and he signaled to them to be careful. He did not know the man that she rode with. He jumped out of his tree, and Rebekah nearly shot him, before she recognized him. She dismounted, preparing to greet him. Instead, he ran at her, pulled her into a fierce hug, and kissed her.
For a moment, Rebekah was completely shocked, and then instinct kicked in. He was on his back in an instant, looking up into that beautiful face.
"What was that for Laim?" she asked.
"You're alive!" he said, getting up "Who's this?" he asked, looking suspiciously at Tristan.
Tristan didn't answer. He was studying this Woad, who had such strong passion for his woman. That could not continue.
"This is Tristan, I don't have time to explain anything now, we're going to the wall."
At that moment, Laim noticed the burn marks under her tattoo. His eyes narrowed, and he glared at Tristan. "What has he done to you?" he asked
Rebekah looked confused for a second, and then realized what he meant. "Tristan didn't do this. I spent four months being tortured, he saved me, and I don't have time for this right now. The Saxons are coming, and we have to get back to the wall. You should come with us. We'll need every fighter we can get."
Laim felt sick at her mention of torture. The woman he loved had been tortured? By whom? Why? So, it was true, the Saxons were coming. He would go with them. He would follow Rebekah into battle.
"I would be honored to be among your troops, lady Rebekah..." And realized that he had said too much. Rebekah was glaring at him. Obviously she hadn't told her precious Tristan about her authority among the Woads.
"That's enough, Laim. Come with us, we're going back to the caravan."
"There's more of you?" he asked
"Yes, Guinevere and Sera, to name a few."
They were saved. Their ladies of war had been returned to them at just the right time. Laim let out a sigh of relief. Everyone had thought them dead. The morale had gotten quite a blow with that thought.
"We will come with you." He said, and the rest of the watch duty came out of the trees.
"Good. I'll ride with Tristan. You can use my horse." She said shortly, and away they went.
