Chapter Four: Gawain

"Sometimes you think you need something, when all you need is love."

-Stephan King

Gawain was the first to arrive to find Arthur and Guinevere hovering over Lancelot's body. A few inches away from Lancelot's body lay Tristan's covered in nothing but blood. Gawain suddenly felt he was sick to his stomach, and immediately he doubled over and vomited, watching in disbelief at the bodies as the stink and oozing liquid slowly sank into the blood soiled land. He watched for a moment, seeing the scene that unfolded in front of him. Arthur, scolding his god, tears welling up in his eyes. Guinevere, her face showing of disbelief and sorrow as she stared longingly at Lancelot's body. Dead and injured Saxons, cries of pain and sorrow, Woads despairing over their lost ones, Saxons wandering, waiting to be killed. It was then that Gawain realized that tears began to form in his eyes as well and slowly leave a trail as they sank down his cheek and face. Galahad and Bors came their ways here, as if wandering and coming here on mistake. Galahad instantly turned his head when he saw the bodies, his eyes flashing of pain when he first saw them. Bors said nothing, but only stared at them...thinking his own thoughts. Arthur, Guinevere, Bors, Galahad and he knew the same thing at that moment in time. This battle, this goddamned battle, was something that neither of them will ever forget.

The night after that, the night that he was finally free, was hard for Gawain, even though he was sure that it was hard on all five of them. He hadn't know Guinevere that well, but he felt himself being torn away from her as they spoke no words to each other, all they had was to say goodbye by a hug. Arthur on the other hand, had something to say to him, "Be in peace, Gawain. You are free now, you must do what you can to make up for those fifteen years that you've spend on this wretched island." And with that, they hugged, watching each other...as if a father giving a son away, though Arthur was no father, he was like an older brother to Gawain, and this thought was comforting to him as he moved to Bors. Tears were welling up in Bors's eyes and Gawain watched him, just once before he had seen Bors cry, it was at the death of Dagonet, his best friend. They said nothing to each other, only sorrowful looks and a tint of knowing in each of their eyes as they said good-bye with no words. And then Gawain turned to Galahad.

Instantly, the tears began to well up again. Of all the knights, dead or alive, Galahad had been the one that he seemed to connect to. Of all the knights, dead or alive, Galahad had been the one that became his best friend. He didn't understand why this was, but Gawain had always known that he could count on Galahad, he could always see Galahad as a best friend, rather than a friend. They spoke no words for a moment, each of their minds going through the memories that they always held until finally Gawain nodded at him, a sign of satisfaction. And for the first time that day, Gawain actually smiled. Galahad's eyes began to slightly brightened as he nodded back, a smile also on his face, and stuck out his hand of which Gawain gladly took.

And with that, they all went their separate ways.

When Gawain had left Hadrien's Wall, he had a moment of panic, for he never actually knew what he was to do when he was finally free. Going home had always been his answer when he was asked, but now...now he wasn't so sure. He did wish to see home, no doubt, but something in his mind, a second voice, told him to stop. But...then what? He sighed and forced himself to return home, the place that he can vaguely remember.

As he rode his horse towards the Samartia countryside, his thoughts were so preoccupied of everything that he did not notice that within five days he reached his destined place...home. This sudden rush of astonishment washed over him as he saw the small village of which he was taken from. Jumping from his horse he was enveloped with the home that he had forgotten over the fifteen years. The green grass, miles of miles of them. The cold air that countered with the sun's warm rays. The smell of grass and home-cooking, this is tasting freedom.

When he entered the village, the people who were young then grew older and vaguely remember him. They would come from their huts and watch in awe as Gawain made his way to his house, hoping that her parents still lived there. The older people smiled at the sight of him, happy to have him back again and the younger ones, the ones that do not remember him were watching in curiosity at the elders as they stared at Gawain. It has been a long time since he had entered this place, a long time since he was finally able to taste freedom and standing here now, in his rightful village, he felt that at last, the one thing that he was waiting for had finally come to him. The freedom of home.

The entire day was spent celebrating his arrival. His mother was still alive, but she told her son that his father was passed since Gawain had been in Rome. Gawain's younger sisters, Enya and Ilde, greeted with a tackle meant to be a hug and the elders or middle-aged people who remember Gawain, visited the hut often just to say hello or thank the god that their knight has returned to them. But in Gawain's mind, he began to think of other things than home. His soul was still searching for the adventure that he experienced as a knight. Still young, he was, and not old enough to settle down and forget about being who he was. He felt sorry for his family, his friends, the people who came to see him, for tomorrow morning, his mother and sisters will find a note on the kitchen table saying he has left and signed by Gawain. The happiness his mother's face showed was priceless, but he couldn't look at her as she proudly walked around the hut, gratefully thanking those who offered their blessings to the family. He sighed as the supper was finished and the twins went to take care of the dishes. Now would be the best time to say his plans, but he could not face his mother who smiled proudly at him when he flashed a look at her. So, instead, he smiled at her, his smile fake, and walked outside, in need of more fresh air.

He walked beside the huts, not really concerned about the contents inside each, for his thoughts were preoccupied by his emotions. He did not wish to leave his family once more, especially since he had just arrived, but he felt as if he was half-dead in this place. His soul was not meant to settle down, and he understood that. He sighed again, out of frustration, anger, disbelief, it was hard...leading a life such as his.

A sound to his right startled him and he snapped his head to see someone emerging from the shadows. As the figure became clearer to him, he saw a woman, perhaps the same age or younger walk towards him meaningfully as her charming smile flashed at him. She was medium height, thin with flawless facial skin. Her eyes were a deep blue, the kind that would suck you in and her hair was a light blonde color. Gawain had known he had seen her before, but he could not place her name on her face. She stopped in front of him, waiting for him to say something, but when nothing came to him mind, she cocked her head, "Do you not remember, Gawain?" and he shook his head, she gave a laugh, somehow it was comforting to him, "You mean to tell me you forgot your old childhood friend?"

At this, Gawain studied her...there was one childhood friend that he always kept close. Female she was, but her eyes were a light blue and her hair was a light brown, his eyebrows furrowed at these thoughts, he might as well take a shot anyway, "Isolde?"

She smiled as she took another step toward him, she nodded confirming his belief, "So you do remember."

"But...you look nothing like the old Isolde."

"I changed, Gawain. I can see that you have as well."

At this, Gawain said nothing, casting his eyes to the ground. It was true, he had changed since he was taken at the ripe age of ten. He changed into a man. He looked back at Isolde, who stepped closer. The light of a hut luminated her and he could see the resemblance of the old girl he had known fifteen years ago to the woman that was before him now. Her features were sharp and long, and in the light, it looked as if she was a goddess herself and Gawain's eyes felt like they were glued to her, for he could not look away. "Isolde..." he said, his voice astounded, "It really is you!" He took a step toward her and suddenly rushed her into a hug. She squealed in delight and accepted his hug as they stay embraced. Isolde had been one of his best friends, the only person that he felt he can really talk to. One of the few people that he was willing to die for. She nodded against his shoulder as he let go, "My god. You've grown."

At this, she giggled, "I suppose I have. And yet...you have grown as well. Into a man, I could say."

They both laughed at her remark, Isolde was like that. She always put a smile on anyone that was around her. But when the silence overtook them, Gawain's thoughts again were overrun by his soul, and his face showed of pain and frustration. It was Isolde who had noticed this, "Gawain? Why is there such a face on you?"

Gawain turned to her, sighing again, "I do not know. I have just arrived here today...but already my soul is wanting for more. More adventure. More thrill. I cannot leave my mother and the twins. But...I feel as if I am dead here."

"Dead? Why you look as much alive as a hopping toad," Isolde answered, her remark was not meant to be funny, for she was serious now as she scrutinized Gawain. "You must do what you wish. I cannot stop you and I can assure you that your mother would understand. She is that woman who understands anything."

Gawain nodded, it was true. His mother was an easy-going type who only sobbed rather than fight against anyone. He knew that he would receive no resistance if he told his mother that he was leaving. He sighed again...it seemed as if he was sighing all the time nowadays. "Still...I can't leave. I haven't seen my mother, you or my sisters for fifteen years. I cannot leave..."

"Your soul calls to you, Gawain. I can tell you now, you cannot ignore it, for it will eat you alive if you attempt at doing so."

Gawain nodded again. He turned to Isolde and said, "You look beautiful, more so than the last time I saw you."

She giggled...then stopped. She looked up and their eyes locked, "Gawain..." her voice trailed to be sure that she had his attention. A muffled response came from him and she continued, "Do you remember? Do you remember the last thing you said to me before you left with that roman pig?"

Gawain stopped. His face instantly came over with pain, of course he had remembered. Perhaps it was a curse or a blessing, but Gawain had always been gifted with wonderful memory storage. He said nothing to her question as she sighed and continued, "In all truth, Gawain, I do not wish to see your back as you ride away. I have not seen you in fifteen years, and now...finally I can lay my eyes on you once more, it's like I've been brought back to life. And now...now you tell me that you are in need of leaving. That you feel half-dead here? That you must go adventuring?" she cast her eyes down, "Tell me, do you remember the last thing you said to me before you left?"

"I said, 'I will marry you when I get back!'" he answered her and she nodded, "Do you still hold that promise?"

Gawain paused. Now...it was beginning to get clear for some reason. Before he had thought that his soul was restless, before he had thought that he was in need of excitement in his life. Before he had thought he could not settle down at home, before he had thought he was half-dead. But he was wrong. All he needed was someone, someone to be there, someone to help him, someone to love him.

"I love you," Isolde said, as if reading his mind and coming in on cue. He looked back at her...his face still showed of pain and finally...for the first time in many weeks, he smiled.

"I love you to," he said to her as he swooped her in his arms and interlocked his mouth with hers.

Gawain end.

Author note: FINISHED! YAY! I hope you liked the stories! goes to write more fanfics