Disclaimer: I do not own any of the character names, save my own original creations. I do not wish to be compensated for this work, nor do I wish to infringe on any copyrights held by any stakeholders of the movie King Arthur. This work is an original creation, based on the legend of King Arthur and his knights.
Scribe note: Rowan Dash, thank you for your wonderful encouragement and excellent insight into chapter 4! I love the metaphor you gave for the dance sequence, it fits well! I agree, Lancelot is indeed a complex character and I should look at making his confusion more apparent to himself, even if he is to afraid to act on it.Your comments and review are most appreciated.
Yours, Cardeia
Chapter 5: Friend and Brother
Cerys slipped out of the hall some time later, and returned with a stoppered clay vial, hidden closely to her skirts. She bent over Galahad, he nodded and took it from her, pocketing it before Gawain could turn around and offer Cerys a spot near his side. She rumpled his hair and giggled at something that he had said, and pointed over to her own plate, sitting abandoned beside Lancelot's. The dark-haired girl looked protectively to Galahad, but Galahad placated her with a nuzzle to her neck, which made her squeal with delight. Cerys shook her head at the action and made her way back over to Lancelot to sit down again.
"For Gawain?" He asked without looking up.
"Yes."
"Does it help?"
Cerys grimaced and shrugged, looking over to the brothers, who were now both feeding the dark haired girl strips of venison and letting her lick their fingers. She sighed and looked back, resting her chin on her hand. The night was winding down, and she was beginning to tire. Tomorrow morning was going to be a struggle to get up, and her head would be fuzzy.
"I only hope to the Gods that it does. It's temporary. He needs to face his demons or they will haunt him to his death. I just wish I knew what they were, so I could..."
"Cerys..."
"No, Lancelot, I do! All of you are important to me, Arthur is my kin! You go off to do battle and we women sit here and wait for your return, either riding triumphant or covered in a cloak. If I could only..."
Lancelot stretched a hand out to her and grabbed hers.
"I know."
She rubbed her face with her free hand and sighed again, her face showing her frustration. How could he know how much pacing she did, the endless watching on the wall at night, waiting for a dust cloud, or drumming hooves to signal their return? Of sleepless nights tossing in her bedding? If he only knew how helpless she felt when they were gone, how needy she was of their presence. Damn the Gods but she hated feeling so helpless!
Lancelot squeezed her hand and watched her for a moment. She took her hand back and rubbed the hem of her skirt between her thumb and index finger, looking down, her brow furrowed. Damn, she thought. Damn me for spouting off again.
Tristan came out of the shadows and joined the two, crouching down to grab an apple from the plate they were sharing. He looked coolly about as he cut a piece off and munched silently.
"Gazelle."
Cerys smiled up at him and pulled him down by the arm to sit with them. The compliment by way of nickname he had just paid her made her feel a bit lighter. There was no need to dark thoughts tonight, she admonished herself. She had not realized he had watched her dance, but was not surprised. He had a funny way of watching everyone. Cerys found it comforting.
"Watch changed over on the wall?" Lancelot asked him, sitting up and grabbing his cup.
Tristan nodded and popped another piece of apple into his mouth. He held a second sliver out to Cerys, without looking at her. Cerys pursed her lips as she regarded her friend, and instead of grabbing the slice with her hand, she grabbed a hold with her teeth and pulled it into her mouth. Oh how she enjoyed keeping Tristan on his toes!
When Cerys was a child, and Tristan a young recruit, he never spoke to her, only regarded her with those icy blue eyes, nodding at her when they crossed paths. She decided to make time to sit with him, and he taught her the ways of listening to the trees to find out the wind direction, the scrabble on the ground to signal which way a hare came from, the stillness required to tame a hawk. She learned to respect his solitude, and his need for silence. She wondered then how he had become so remote, but she treasured it. The other boys were so boisterous, and sometimes she craved stillness. So, she would just come and sit with him, waiting for him to notice her, and then show her the next natural wonder, all without a single word between them.
When Cerys left for Powys, he had followed her for a full day on his horse. When he caught up to her, he had simply said "Sister", thrust a braid of ribbon into her hands, then turned and galloped off. She had cried all that day until they stopped to camp. It was the first word he had ever spoken to her, and she knew a week's pay had gone into the ribbon for her hair. Indeed, then and now, he was just like a brother, albeit only slightly more talkative.
Tristan lowered his hand, looked at her, and a small but brief smile crossed his lips as he bit into yet another piece of apple.
Cerys thought "Success!" to herself as she chewed on hers. Such fun to make the once quiet boy, now serious knight, break a smile for her.
"Tristan, you know better than to hand feed a gazelle, they bite!" Lancelot jested, and tweaked Cerys' nose. Cerys wrinkled it in response and turned to Tristan.
"Sky is well?" She asked.
"Yes," Tristan replied as he swallowed, "Just an arrow graze to his flank."
More friends joined the gathering, with Arthur settled into a cushion just behind Lancelot, and Guinevere draping herself over Cerys. Guinevere half laughed, half grunted as she reached for the last apple on the plate between Cerys and Lancelot. Cerys grabbed it first and held it from her, her own laughter joining. They play-tousled for a moment and then Cerys handed it over. Guinevere stayed cuddled up to Cerys' hip, and they each threw an arm over the other amiably. Arthur nodded to Tristan and also asked about the watch and his horse.
"Such an evening! You two danced so well!" Guinevere muffled between bites of fruit.
"It was fun, I miss dancing when the men are gone." Cerys smiled, poking Lancelot in the chest, hinting.
"Well we are here now, and dancing you can have." Arthur said.
Lancelot gave a pained expression to Arthur and rolled his eyes. Cerys relaxed into Guinevere's warm embrace and regarded the men about her. Arthur, his dark eyes and set jaw relaxed and soft in the torch light, Tristan sitting cross-legged, eyes never stopping, roving the crowd. Languid Lancelot, half-lidded with sleep, idly watching Galahad attempt to woo his dark-haired girl. Cerys sighed deeply and closed her eyes for a moment. Her knights were home, and she felt so content at that moment. She felt as if she was never happier. She must not let thoughts of their going again crowd out the fact that they were here now. Lancelot flicked a gaze to her at her noise, and she again fiddled with the hem of her dress as she felt his brown eyes find her. Why was he looking at her like that?
Somehow tonight she had seemed to have a different feeling around Lancelot. She wasn't quite sure why his glances were making her stomach flip, or why, when he touched her, her skin would feel cold when his hand departed. His kiss after their dance was normal enough, but... he was unnerving her, ever so slightly, especially stabbing his eyes at her like that! She pulled her earlobe softly with her other hand and thought on it a moment as the group's conversation ebbed over her head.
"It must be the wine." She mumbled to no one in particular.
"Sorry, I didn't catch what you just said." Arthur peered at her; his head cocked to one side.
"Oh, sorry, was just thinking out loud."
"Put your bloody tally sticks away and let's get some fresh air." Guinevere admonished and pulled Cerys to her feet. Cerys swayed and then collapsed into a heap back to the cushions. She flopped onto her back and stared at the hall ceiling, her hands half-covering her face in mock horror, her entire body shaking with laughter. Guinevere stood with hand on hip, a smile on her lips as well.
"I think it is time for sleep, based on my apparent lack of legs to stand on." She mumbled through her fingers.
Arthur helped her up and made the notion that indeed it was time to sleep. Cerys wrapped her arms about his waist and squeezed.
"Cousin, I have missed this." She said and looked up to him, chin resting on chest.
"I know." He said softly and looked down to her. He tucked her hair pins back into her hair, kissed the top of her head and then held a hand out to Guinevere. Cerys reluctantly detached herself from her cousin.
"Time, my wife?"
Guinevere nodded and took his hand. Cerys watched them leave, a bit wistful that they were headed to their apartments together. To have warm comfort, to wake up beside someone... She pushed the thought away. The wine and the long day together were making her think ridiculous thoughts late into the night, and she was in no condition to work herself up about it! She needed sleep! Tomorrow she would be busy, with no time to reflect on a sore head or aching body.
The rest of the knights slowly rose. Galahad had the dark-haired girl leading the way, and was carrying Gawain, now completely intoxicated, across his back, like a sack of flour. Gawain woke up briefly to blow a kiss to Cerys and then loll his head back to Gawain's shoulder. Perceval caught up to the brothers and helped shoulder the burden out into the night. Bors and Lorina had long since retired, and the rest of the hall was either snoring or quiet conversation. The torches again burned low.
Cerys looked about her, and hooked an arm in Tristan's, as he too rose. She smiled up at him and he motioned with his head back to Lancelot as they headed towards the door. She looked back to see if Lancelot was going to join them, but he had fallen asleep where he was laying, comfortable in the cushions, his chest rising and falling, his arm flung across his eyes.
Cerys yawned and shook her head. "He'll sleep better there than if we woke him to go to his rooms I think."
Tristan yawned at that point too, blinked and licked his lips. He took breath as if to say something, but then didn't, just smiled. Cerys patted his arm with her fingers stuck through the crook of his elbow, and they continued walking through the compound to her door. Tristan left her and continued on into the darkness to his own rooms, looking back once to make sure her door was closed, and the noise of the bolt sliding shut evident. Cerys listened to his footfalls out her window and then fell, face first into her bedding, falling asleep the instant she tucked her feet up off the floor.
Her last thought before she became oblivious to the world was of Lancelot spinning just out of her reach when they danced, mischievous eyes daring her to catch him.
Dear Reader,
And thus another chapter is born! Please do read and review, I appreciate any and all feedback, and will reply personally if I can. The only way to become great writers is to exercise the writing muscle, so that it becomes strong and flexible, able to wield the pen with ease. Sometimes the only way a muscle can get stronger is with encouragement from others.
May your writing muscles be strong and your thoughts flow freely through them!
Cardeia
