Chapter 9
Rated: R… Hard R for later chapters.
Disclaimer: Don't own a bloody thing.
Okay, just so you all know...I don't hate Guinevere. I'm pretty sure that the way I'm depicting Lancelot and Guinevere... it's hard to understand where they're coming from and hard to like them because of the way they are acting. But basically, they're both nice people. They just made a couple bad decisions.
Anyway, just thought I should clear that up. It's pretty easy to side with Finn and Arthur, but I'm sure if you thought really hard you'd see why L and G do the things they do. They may not be right, but its not like they MEAN to be mean spirited...
And I'm defending fake characters so I'll shut up now and let you read. And REVIEW! hint - STILL enjoy long reviews
Oh and lots of action in the next chapter... of that you can be sure!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Lancelot awoke the next morning, the sky was a deep ocean blue; the clouds toward the east tinted a light pink. He felt Finn stir in his arms, though she stayed in the arms of slumber, her even breathing continuing. He exhaled, and for once he had a smile on his face. Not a cocky, arrogant smile designed to seduce or irritate. It was a truly content smile.
In the night Finn had slung her arm over his chest and her leg had tangled itself in his own long ones. She was breathing down his open collar, her light warm breath tickling his collarbone. He let his hand fall to hers and his long fingers traced her thumb, her wrist, the underside of her palm. He was letting his index finger smooth her knuckles when the wagon cover rustled and his eyes looked up into a pair of dark brown ones.
Guinevere sat on the edge of the wagon staring at the sleeping lovers. She bit her lip and for once she felt self conscious. The only other time she'd felt this way, was outside Arthur's bedchambers, the first time they'd made love.
"I see you are awake." She said quietly. He nodded, and the two stayed silent for long moments.
"How is Arthur?" Lancelot asked, his anger having sobered, leaving nothing but the gritty after taste of remorse.
"He is fine." She said simply. "And Finn?" she threw in, trying to sound as if she wanted to know. Lancelot's smile flitted across his face, and Guinevere felt her heart rise up into her throat.
"She is well enough." He said, and his fingers now continued their soft dance along her own hand. "What is it the two of you were talking of? In the wagon, before I discovered you?" It had been a question he'd wanted to ask since he'd heard them speaking in the dark of the night.
Guinevere looked slightly surprised, as if she didn't expect him to ask. But a split second later she had shrugged and taken a seat on the floor in front of him.
"You, mostly." She said as her fingers fidgeted with her archery glove. "She wanted to know how I felt about you." He nodded, his face turning a bit grim. He knew it must have pained Finn to know that he had eyes for another.
"And your response?" he asked, and to his shock, dread pooled in the pit of his stomach.
"I told her that I care for you." She admitted, looking down at the carriage floor. "More than simply a friend, and certainly more than the other knights." He should have been jumping for joy. He'd wanted to hear that confession since the night he'd spied her bathing while they were delivering Alecto to Germanus. But now…he felt even emptier than before she'd admitted anything.
"She was heart broken." Guinevere continued, upon seeing Lancelot's face. "She believed that she could not compete with me when it came to the affairs of your heart." Lancelot felt his hold around Finn tighten.
"And what was it that you told her?" he asked, his eyes not leaving hers. He needed to know. Desperately.
"I told her that it was I who could not compete where your love was concerned." Her face softened and he saw a sad smile make its way to the surface. "I know you love her." She said quietly, her gaze now downcast. Lancelot's eyes followed hers, to the floor.
"Arthur knows." He said lightly, his voice barely a whisper. But Guinevere's keen hearing didn't miss it and her head lifted immediately to see if he was lying. When she saw he wasn't, she felt her heart fall down into the depths of her stomach.
"He…" she trailed off, her arms coming around her to hug herself. "He knows?" she repeated. Lancelot nodded.
"For how long, I cannot be sure. But I believe that it has been since we first met." He said and he saw her face grow pale and she whimpered, though no tears fell.
"I've been a vile friend." He said to himself more than to her.
"And I a terrible wife." She added, feeling her insides grow cold. "You must realize Lancelot," she said, drawing his attention back up to her, "I love him more than my own life." He sighed loudly.
"As do I." He said. "And I do love her. I would give my life for hers if need be." Guinevere nodded, and she felt saddened by the news. But she'd finally grown enough to see that even as a princess, you are not awarded everything you desire. But she had been given the thing she'd wanted and needed the most in all her life. Her husband.
"What a pair we are. Hurting all those who love us better than we love each other…" he said inwardly scolding himself, as he stroked Finn's side lovingly. She murmured in her sleep, and Guinevere broke from her haunted daze.
"I must go." She said in a far off voice. She was about to slip from the caravan when Lancelot interrupted her escape.
"He loves you Guinevere. More than I ever could. It will be alright." He said quickly, wishing her to understand that not all was over between her and the greatest king of Briton. She turned and gave him a grateful smile and slipped away.
He drew in a long breath at having finally confronted Guinevere about Arthur and Finn. He felt a cool hand snake up his chest and neck and looked down to see Finn's eyes wide, her mouth smiling in the crooked way he'd come to adore.
"You love me…" she said tenderly, before she leaned up and kissed his chin softly, his neatly trimmed beard scratching her cheek. "You love me." She repeated, a little louder this time, her lips tracing his cheek and the corner of his own mouth. "You-"
"I love you." He said aloud to her, the first time he'd ever declared his love in person. He smiled as he saw her eyes light up, and then sipped at her lips, reveling in the warm feeling it brought to his body. He felt her smile into the kiss as he pulled her up on top of him so that she was lying against the length of him. She was deepening the kiss; she needed more, needed it like the air she breathed. But he suddenly pulled away and she frowned down at him. He chuckled lightly at her surprised look.
"And you?" he asked playfully. "You love me as well?" She smiled down at him and shrugged lightly.
"Love…such a strong word." She pouted, making the corners of his mouth quirk. "Besides, you smell like an old boot and snore like a bear." She teased, letting one finger trail down his jaw. He laughed boisterously before rolling them to the left so that he was looming over her. He tried to seem threatening but it was difficult when her smile was so infectious.
"Yes but I make up for it by being roguishly charming and handsome." He said as he pat her bottom. She gasped melodramatically, rolling her eyes.
"That, my dear, would be a matter of opinion." She said looking down at him, her eyes twinkling. He snorted.
"Perhaps I should ravage you, to teach you not to be so callous and cruel." He said grinning down at her, his hand gently pushing the shoulders of her dress down her arms. She looked pensive for a moment, as her hands came up to the back of his neck and spread through his hair. He leaned into the touch, as it shot lightening through him.
"Perhaps I should ravage you," she said noting how feline he was to her touch, "tie you to something and have my way with you." She let one of her hands slide down his spine, and he arched back when he felt her hand squeeze his backside.
"You are a saucy minx." He growled. She giggled at his choice of words.
"I know." She beamed. "I think you should dote on me more, though."
"Really? And how exactly should I go about that?" He asked, sounding intrigued. She leaned up to whisper in his ear, her hot damp breath making his skin tingle.
"I want you to kiss me, and make love to me, and I want to drive you to insanity and drag you back down…"
He was about to dive back down onto her and follow her every instruction, word for word, and probably enjoy it, when a knock sounded at the wagon's edge.
"Well, I want privacy." He snarled, genuinely irritated by the tendency of others to interrupt them. She sighed, and looked a bit disappointed herself as he climbed off of her and ripped back the tarp. Galahad stood sharpening one of his knives, not even bothering to look up at Lancelot.
"Go away." Lancelot barked. Galahad looked up, his eyebrow raised as he looked past Lancelot to Finn who gave him a slightly embarrassed smile. He then returned his gaze to Lancelot and smacked his friend in the arm.
"You'll have to put the romp on hold for a bit. Arthur says we have to move now." He said nonchalantly, while Finn's cheeks burned with mortification. Lancelot bared his teeth at Galahad.
"I know you wouldn't understand Galahad, having never bedded a woman yourself, but unless it is vital that I mount up, I rather think I'll stay here." He belted out. Galahad now looked like the humiliated one and Finn clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from smiling.
"As to that," Galahad growled, "there is a party of Saxons on our trail. They are but a few days behind, and their party is small, but Arthur does not want to risk open battle." Galahad's eyes strayed to Finn who now looked discomforted with the news of Saxons. "Unless you wish to risk casualties…"
Lancelot turned back to look at Finn, who was now pulling the shoulder of her dress back up, her eyes staring at nothing. He sighed as he dragged a hand through his messy hair.
"Very well. I'll be up in five minutes." He said, before Galahad turned and left, muttering half curses at Lancelot as he went. Lancelot turned back to Finn who bit her lip nervously. She knew what he would say, and just as he opened his mouth to say it, her hand rose to stop him.
"I know." She said as her eyes fell shut. "I am sorry to put a burden in your mind as to my well being." She apologized, as she let her hand fall to her lap. "I will keep to the wagon and out of sight." She promised. He nodded, as he reached for her hand, took it in his own and kissed it.
"Be safe." He whispered to her fingers, as he began to exit the wagon.
"But promise me something." She said quickly as he jumped down onto the ground. "Come back to me at the end of this day and every other." She pleaded. "Keep yourself safe." He nodded, before he turned and began walking for camp.
They both knew he could never truthfully make that promise. She'd known it the day she admitted she was not to marry Alden. She'd known the day would come when he'd be put in harm's way and he might not survive. But she hadn't wished that day to come so soon.
Lancelot stalked toward his horse, a grave expression fixed on his face. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones that today was not to be a good day.
Bors watched Lancelot come to his horse's side and stroke its mane, a severe look on his face, and Bors drew a long breath before angrily clamping an armor piece to his forearm. "I hate it when he does that."
Gawain looked up, eyebrows high on his forehead. "Does what?" he asked gruffly. Bors snorted.
"He thinks something's wrong." He said matter of factly, motioning over his shoulder to the lone knight. "And you know when he thinks something's wrong…"
"It usually is." Arthur finished as he joined his knights who were gathered around the fire. He turned to Wexley, a Woad who served to be their guide. "You're certain they are days behind us?" he asked warily.
Wexley nodded. "Days. Back by Dun Rohpoim. Far away." His English was detached, but he managed, before he grabbed his sack and pack and threw them onto his horse. Arthur had been told by Merlin that Wexley was a good guide, but he would've felt better had it been Tristan leading them and scouting for them.
"Good." He finally said before he clapped his hands together. "Mount up. We leave now." He commanded, and all the knights groaned melodramatically before making their way to their own steeds. Arthur was about to follow when he felt a gentle hand touch his arm. He looked down at Guinevere's face. He knew, even before she spoke… Lancelot had told her.
"My lord." She said quietly, her eyes larger than he remembered them to be. One giant hand cupped her face for a moment, while his for once unsmiling face took in her aura of guilt. He said nothing as his hand fell from her cheek and he turned away, shrugging off her hand. She stood there and watched him take his horse's reigns wordlessly from Jols.
"Jols." She said as the squire passed her. "Take my horse. I will ride in the caravan today." He nodded, a slight bow of the head, before he headed to her horse.
She looked back toward Arthur and saw that he was staring at her, his eyes cold and glazed with distrust. Suddenly he pulled the reigns of his horse and it turned as he headed toward the main road. She let out a breath, the air attacking it and making it seem like smoke. She felt like she must truly be the devil or some other wicked thing.
She sighed and walked quickly toward the wagon as one of the Woad warriors tugged on the reigns of the horses to start their journey. She leapt over the side of the wagon and landed soundlessly on the wooden floor. She heard Finn gasp as the girl whipped around. She clutched her chest and smiled in spite of her jumpiness.
"You startled me." She said, as her eyes opened again. Guinevere gave her a small smile in return.
"I did not mean to." She said, as she leaned back against the siding of the wagon. "You don't mind if I stay here for a while?" she asked as she let her legs slide out in front of her. Finn shook her head.
"Not at all. It makes me feel all the more safe." She said, trying to show appraisal for Guinevere. After having overheard her conversation with Lancelot, she found that Guinevere wasn't so much a villain as she was torn between two men.
Guinevere nodded and proceeded to look out at the countryside as the wagon bounced along the rough terrain, toward the main road. Finn watched her closely for a long while before she began speaking again.
"Arthur is angry with you." It wasn't a question. Guinevere did not look back at Finn, only nodded, looking sadly out at the wooded area. "It will not last." This drew in Guinevere's attention, and she turned to the fairer of the two girls. "I've spoken with him. And he does love you very much."
"It isn't as simple as that." The darker girl retorted. Finn shrugged.
"Love is always simple. Unlike life it isn't complicated. When one person falls, the other is there to pick them back up, no matter what. That is what true love is." She said cryptically. She didn't know how qualified she was to be handing out advice, but she felt that she'd given the right sort.
"Thank you." Guinevere said quietly. Finn nodded. "You seem… to be taking this all rather gracefully." Guinevere added, testing the water so to speak. Finn shook her head.
"Make no mistake Guinevere, I won't settle for just half his heart." She said, knowing exactly what she was inquiring after. "I do love him, but one day he will simply have to choose. Perhaps not today, or even tomorrow. But one day he must choose."
Guinevere nodded. "And so will you." Finn added as an after thought. "We will not be around forever." She said implying Arthur and herself. "And if you wait too long…we may be gone before you can catch us." For a long while, Guinevere was left in a deafening silence, and it was then she realized that she could in fact lose Arthur for eternity.
"Then my choice has already been made," Guinevere said, "and I believe Lancelot has too." For the next few hours, the girls stayed silent, enjoying the easy peace that passed between them as they sat in the rocking caravan, watching the world pass them by.
Rated: R… Hard R for later chapters.
Disclaimer: Don't own a bloody thing.
Okay, just so you all know...I don't hate Guinevere. I'm pretty sure that the way I'm depicting Lancelot and Guinevere... it's hard to understand where they're coming from and hard to like them because of the way they are acting. But basically, they're both nice people. They just made a couple bad decisions.
Anyway, just thought I should clear that up. It's pretty easy to side with Finn and Arthur, but I'm sure if you thought really hard you'd see why L and G do the things they do. They may not be right, but its not like they MEAN to be mean spirited...
And I'm defending fake characters so I'll shut up now and let you read. And REVIEW! hint - STILL enjoy long reviews
Oh and lots of action in the next chapter... of that you can be sure!
------------------------------------------------------------------------------
When Lancelot awoke the next morning, the sky was a deep ocean blue; the clouds toward the east tinted a light pink. He felt Finn stir in his arms, though she stayed in the arms of slumber, her even breathing continuing. He exhaled, and for once he had a smile on his face. Not a cocky, arrogant smile designed to seduce or irritate. It was a truly content smile.
In the night Finn had slung her arm over his chest and her leg had tangled itself in his own long ones. She was breathing down his open collar, her light warm breath tickling his collarbone. He let his hand fall to hers and his long fingers traced her thumb, her wrist, the underside of her palm. He was letting his index finger smooth her knuckles when the wagon cover rustled and his eyes looked up into a pair of dark brown ones.
Guinevere sat on the edge of the wagon staring at the sleeping lovers. She bit her lip and for once she felt self conscious. The only other time she'd felt this way, was outside Arthur's bedchambers, the first time they'd made love.
"I see you are awake." She said quietly. He nodded, and the two stayed silent for long moments.
"How is Arthur?" Lancelot asked, his anger having sobered, leaving nothing but the gritty after taste of remorse.
"He is fine." She said simply. "And Finn?" she threw in, trying to sound as if she wanted to know. Lancelot's smile flitted across his face, and Guinevere felt her heart rise up into her throat.
"She is well enough." He said, and his fingers now continued their soft dance along her own hand. "What is it the two of you were talking of? In the wagon, before I discovered you?" It had been a question he'd wanted to ask since he'd heard them speaking in the dark of the night.
Guinevere looked slightly surprised, as if she didn't expect him to ask. But a split second later she had shrugged and taken a seat on the floor in front of him.
"You, mostly." She said as her fingers fidgeted with her archery glove. "She wanted to know how I felt about you." He nodded, his face turning a bit grim. He knew it must have pained Finn to know that he had eyes for another.
"And your response?" he asked, and to his shock, dread pooled in the pit of his stomach.
"I told her that I care for you." She admitted, looking down at the carriage floor. "More than simply a friend, and certainly more than the other knights." He should have been jumping for joy. He'd wanted to hear that confession since the night he'd spied her bathing while they were delivering Alecto to Germanus. But now…he felt even emptier than before she'd admitted anything.
"She was heart broken." Guinevere continued, upon seeing Lancelot's face. "She believed that she could not compete with me when it came to the affairs of your heart." Lancelot felt his hold around Finn tighten.
"And what was it that you told her?" he asked, his eyes not leaving hers. He needed to know. Desperately.
"I told her that it was I who could not compete where your love was concerned." Her face softened and he saw a sad smile make its way to the surface. "I know you love her." She said quietly, her gaze now downcast. Lancelot's eyes followed hers, to the floor.
"Arthur knows." He said lightly, his voice barely a whisper. But Guinevere's keen hearing didn't miss it and her head lifted immediately to see if he was lying. When she saw he wasn't, she felt her heart fall down into the depths of her stomach.
"He…" she trailed off, her arms coming around her to hug herself. "He knows?" she repeated. Lancelot nodded.
"For how long, I cannot be sure. But I believe that it has been since we first met." He said and he saw her face grow pale and she whimpered, though no tears fell.
"I've been a vile friend." He said to himself more than to her.
"And I a terrible wife." She added, feeling her insides grow cold. "You must realize Lancelot," she said, drawing his attention back up to her, "I love him more than my own life." He sighed loudly.
"As do I." He said. "And I do love her. I would give my life for hers if need be." Guinevere nodded, and she felt saddened by the news. But she'd finally grown enough to see that even as a princess, you are not awarded everything you desire. But she had been given the thing she'd wanted and needed the most in all her life. Her husband.
"What a pair we are. Hurting all those who love us better than we love each other…" he said inwardly scolding himself, as he stroked Finn's side lovingly. She murmured in her sleep, and Guinevere broke from her haunted daze.
"I must go." She said in a far off voice. She was about to slip from the caravan when Lancelot interrupted her escape.
"He loves you Guinevere. More than I ever could. It will be alright." He said quickly, wishing her to understand that not all was over between her and the greatest king of Briton. She turned and gave him a grateful smile and slipped away.
He drew in a long breath at having finally confronted Guinevere about Arthur and Finn. He felt a cool hand snake up his chest and neck and looked down to see Finn's eyes wide, her mouth smiling in the crooked way he'd come to adore.
"You love me…" she said tenderly, before she leaned up and kissed his chin softly, his neatly trimmed beard scratching her cheek. "You love me." She repeated, a little louder this time, her lips tracing his cheek and the corner of his own mouth. "You-"
"I love you." He said aloud to her, the first time he'd ever declared his love in person. He smiled as he saw her eyes light up, and then sipped at her lips, reveling in the warm feeling it brought to his body. He felt her smile into the kiss as he pulled her up on top of him so that she was lying against the length of him. She was deepening the kiss; she needed more, needed it like the air she breathed. But he suddenly pulled away and she frowned down at him. He chuckled lightly at her surprised look.
"And you?" he asked playfully. "You love me as well?" She smiled down at him and shrugged lightly.
"Love…such a strong word." She pouted, making the corners of his mouth quirk. "Besides, you smell like an old boot and snore like a bear." She teased, letting one finger trail down his jaw. He laughed boisterously before rolling them to the left so that he was looming over her. He tried to seem threatening but it was difficult when her smile was so infectious.
"Yes but I make up for it by being roguishly charming and handsome." He said as he pat her bottom. She gasped melodramatically, rolling her eyes.
"That, my dear, would be a matter of opinion." She said looking down at him, her eyes twinkling. He snorted.
"Perhaps I should ravage you, to teach you not to be so callous and cruel." He said grinning down at her, his hand gently pushing the shoulders of her dress down her arms. She looked pensive for a moment, as her hands came up to the back of his neck and spread through his hair. He leaned into the touch, as it shot lightening through him.
"Perhaps I should ravage you," she said noting how feline he was to her touch, "tie you to something and have my way with you." She let one of her hands slide down his spine, and he arched back when he felt her hand squeeze his backside.
"You are a saucy minx." He growled. She giggled at his choice of words.
"I know." She beamed. "I think you should dote on me more, though."
"Really? And how exactly should I go about that?" He asked, sounding intrigued. She leaned up to whisper in his ear, her hot damp breath making his skin tingle.
"I want you to kiss me, and make love to me, and I want to drive you to insanity and drag you back down…"
He was about to dive back down onto her and follow her every instruction, word for word, and probably enjoy it, when a knock sounded at the wagon's edge.
"Well, I want privacy." He snarled, genuinely irritated by the tendency of others to interrupt them. She sighed, and looked a bit disappointed herself as he climbed off of her and ripped back the tarp. Galahad stood sharpening one of his knives, not even bothering to look up at Lancelot.
"Go away." Lancelot barked. Galahad looked up, his eyebrow raised as he looked past Lancelot to Finn who gave him a slightly embarrassed smile. He then returned his gaze to Lancelot and smacked his friend in the arm.
"You'll have to put the romp on hold for a bit. Arthur says we have to move now." He said nonchalantly, while Finn's cheeks burned with mortification. Lancelot bared his teeth at Galahad.
"I know you wouldn't understand Galahad, having never bedded a woman yourself, but unless it is vital that I mount up, I rather think I'll stay here." He belted out. Galahad now looked like the humiliated one and Finn clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from smiling.
"As to that," Galahad growled, "there is a party of Saxons on our trail. They are but a few days behind, and their party is small, but Arthur does not want to risk open battle." Galahad's eyes strayed to Finn who now looked discomforted with the news of Saxons. "Unless you wish to risk casualties…"
Lancelot turned back to look at Finn, who was now pulling the shoulder of her dress back up, her eyes staring at nothing. He sighed as he dragged a hand through his messy hair.
"Very well. I'll be up in five minutes." He said, before Galahad turned and left, muttering half curses at Lancelot as he went. Lancelot turned back to Finn who bit her lip nervously. She knew what he would say, and just as he opened his mouth to say it, her hand rose to stop him.
"I know." She said as her eyes fell shut. "I am sorry to put a burden in your mind as to my well being." She apologized, as she let her hand fall to her lap. "I will keep to the wagon and out of sight." She promised. He nodded, as he reached for her hand, took it in his own and kissed it.
"Be safe." He whispered to her fingers, as he began to exit the wagon.
"But promise me something." She said quickly as he jumped down onto the ground. "Come back to me at the end of this day and every other." She pleaded. "Keep yourself safe." He nodded, before he turned and began walking for camp.
They both knew he could never truthfully make that promise. She'd known it the day she admitted she was not to marry Alden. She'd known the day would come when he'd be put in harm's way and he might not survive. But she hadn't wished that day to come so soon.
Lancelot stalked toward his horse, a grave expression fixed on his face. Something was wrong. He could feel it in his bones that today was not to be a good day.
Bors watched Lancelot come to his horse's side and stroke its mane, a severe look on his face, and Bors drew a long breath before angrily clamping an armor piece to his forearm. "I hate it when he does that."
Gawain looked up, eyebrows high on his forehead. "Does what?" he asked gruffly. Bors snorted.
"He thinks something's wrong." He said matter of factly, motioning over his shoulder to the lone knight. "And you know when he thinks something's wrong…"
"It usually is." Arthur finished as he joined his knights who were gathered around the fire. He turned to Wexley, a Woad who served to be their guide. "You're certain they are days behind us?" he asked warily.
Wexley nodded. "Days. Back by Dun Rohpoim. Far away." His English was detached, but he managed, before he grabbed his sack and pack and threw them onto his horse. Arthur had been told by Merlin that Wexley was a good guide, but he would've felt better had it been Tristan leading them and scouting for them.
"Good." He finally said before he clapped his hands together. "Mount up. We leave now." He commanded, and all the knights groaned melodramatically before making their way to their own steeds. Arthur was about to follow when he felt a gentle hand touch his arm. He looked down at Guinevere's face. He knew, even before she spoke… Lancelot had told her.
"My lord." She said quietly, her eyes larger than he remembered them to be. One giant hand cupped her face for a moment, while his for once unsmiling face took in her aura of guilt. He said nothing as his hand fell from her cheek and he turned away, shrugging off her hand. She stood there and watched him take his horse's reigns wordlessly from Jols.
"Jols." She said as the squire passed her. "Take my horse. I will ride in the caravan today." He nodded, a slight bow of the head, before he headed to her horse.
She looked back toward Arthur and saw that he was staring at her, his eyes cold and glazed with distrust. Suddenly he pulled the reigns of his horse and it turned as he headed toward the main road. She let out a breath, the air attacking it and making it seem like smoke. She felt like she must truly be the devil or some other wicked thing.
She sighed and walked quickly toward the wagon as one of the Woad warriors tugged on the reigns of the horses to start their journey. She leapt over the side of the wagon and landed soundlessly on the wooden floor. She heard Finn gasp as the girl whipped around. She clutched her chest and smiled in spite of her jumpiness.
"You startled me." She said, as her eyes opened again. Guinevere gave her a small smile in return.
"I did not mean to." She said, as she leaned back against the siding of the wagon. "You don't mind if I stay here for a while?" she asked as she let her legs slide out in front of her. Finn shook her head.
"Not at all. It makes me feel all the more safe." She said, trying to show appraisal for Guinevere. After having overheard her conversation with Lancelot, she found that Guinevere wasn't so much a villain as she was torn between two men.
Guinevere nodded and proceeded to look out at the countryside as the wagon bounced along the rough terrain, toward the main road. Finn watched her closely for a long while before she began speaking again.
"Arthur is angry with you." It wasn't a question. Guinevere did not look back at Finn, only nodded, looking sadly out at the wooded area. "It will not last." This drew in Guinevere's attention, and she turned to the fairer of the two girls. "I've spoken with him. And he does love you very much."
"It isn't as simple as that." The darker girl retorted. Finn shrugged.
"Love is always simple. Unlike life it isn't complicated. When one person falls, the other is there to pick them back up, no matter what. That is what true love is." She said cryptically. She didn't know how qualified she was to be handing out advice, but she felt that she'd given the right sort.
"Thank you." Guinevere said quietly. Finn nodded. "You seem… to be taking this all rather gracefully." Guinevere added, testing the water so to speak. Finn shook her head.
"Make no mistake Guinevere, I won't settle for just half his heart." She said, knowing exactly what she was inquiring after. "I do love him, but one day he will simply have to choose. Perhaps not today, or even tomorrow. But one day he must choose."
Guinevere nodded. "And so will you." Finn added as an after thought. "We will not be around forever." She said implying Arthur and herself. "And if you wait too long…we may be gone before you can catch us." For a long while, Guinevere was left in a deafening silence, and it was then she realized that she could in fact lose Arthur for eternity.
"Then my choice has already been made," Guinevere said, "and I believe Lancelot has too." For the next few hours, the girls stayed silent, enjoying the easy peace that passed between them as they sat in the rocking caravan, watching the world pass them by.