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.
Chapter 7: No Control
Cerys looked up from her spot in the corner of the baths as a shadow crossed through the shaft of light hitting the steam escaping from the pool. She would not normally have been in the baths at this time of day, and was hoping to be alone with her thoughts.
Ever since their dinner the first night back, she had been so confused over the way she was feeling around Lancelot. He was her best friend and she was acting like she was just getting to know him for the first time! She had been avoiding the men for the past three days because of this, diving into her work like a madwoman. That she could control. Her head, seemingly, right now she was having trouble with.
Dammit, her dress was hanging on the far wall.
"Who's there?" She asked, her voice echoing along the stone walls of the small fort bath.
"Cerys?"
Cerys waded over to the side of the pool closest to the door, resting her arms up on the side. "Lancelot! Good to see you finally got away from your nanny goat! What a prize she must have thought she had!"
Lancelot crouched down so that he was visible to her. She could see he had been working, the sweat on his forehead had caught dust and dirt, and ran in streaks down his face. Similar marks creased his torso. She smiled to him, teasing him. He smiled back, winking.
"Gods, did everyone see me on that pile this morning?" He said, putting his coin sack down and straightening to lift off his open tunic.
"Only myself and Nimli as we went to the kitchens this morning." Cerys laughed, her tongue stuck out between her teeth. She watched him take off his tunic, then unlace his trews. She turned herself to look away as she waded back to her spot in the pool, to give him some privacy, as was the usual when she shared the baths with other people.
With an audible sigh, she heard him splash down into the water. She closed her eyes. She listened to him dunk himself underwater, then come up for air just across from her. Why was she so nervous all of a sudden? Of all the people to be nervous about sharing the baths with, it shouldn't be him, her closest friend. Her stomach did another flip. They had shared the baths, many times before. This was no different.
"Of all the things those bloody Romans left us with, I thank them for this." Lancelot sighed. She could hear him splash softly as he settled deeper into the warm pool on one of the stone seats.
Cerys opened her eyes and regarded the man across from her. His hair hung in spirals, plastered to his forehead and neck, his long eyelashes dark against his cheeks as he relaxed against the side of the pool, eyes closed. His muscles shone wetly where the morning light from the windows hit them, scars from old wounds running pink across his chest, his arms. She could remember some of them, having been there with thread and needle to help Dafydd sew him up after some battle or other. She had heated up the iron to cauterize some of them, changed dressings for others when the healer was too busy. She did that for all the knights. It was part of her duties as both head of the household and surrogate sister.
She scanned his chest for one scar in particular, just above his heart. Her stomach leapt again, this time for the memory, when she found it.
He had come home draped in a cloak from that particular outing. Arthur had galloped in with his horse in tow, screaming for Cerys and Dafydd. Cerys had come running in time to see Arthur hefting Lancelot off of the horse and onto the ground. She was startled to see him still in full battle armour, Lancelot the same. She had screamed and ran towards them, but Arthur's cheeks, covered in tears, made her stop, skid and run for Dafydd's rooms. Cerys didn't remember many details after that, just the long hours of pacing while they pulled the crossbow bolt out of Lancelot's chest, the screams as they cleaned and cauterized the wound and then the waiting to see if he would live. She had spent the whole time running for water or boiling cloth to dress the wound, the night at that point being a blur. He had almost died, and Cerys took late night watch on him once he had been settled, Arthur sitting across from her, still in battle armour, asleep with legs sprawled. She could still see the firelight reflected off his bloodsplashed and dented cuirass as he lay in that chair, her on the other side watching Lancelot and Arthur alternately. Never before had she been so scared to lose one of her knights before, and since that day, whenever they left for any reason, it made her worry and pace and have horrible dreams about what she saw when Arthur had galloped in and laid out Lancelot on the ground, blood pouring from his wound.
"Cerys? Are you alright?" Lancelot said.
Cerys had not realized she had been remembering so vividly, and blinked. Lancelot was now beside her in the pool, looking concerned. How had he gotten here? She had not heard him wade over.
"Oh... I'm fine! Really..." She fumbled. She averted her gaze again and clasping her hands under the water. She wanted desperately to reach out and trace the crescent moon shape of the scar. Why was she thinking such strange thoughts around him since his return? This was madness.
"No, you aren't. Arthur says you have been tired more lately, that Guinevere says you have been getting up earlier and retiring late while we are gone." He said softly.
"Oh."
"Cerys? You know you can tell me, I'll listen." He said, moving to her side to sit again, submerging himself in the water once more.
Cerys nodded, and looked away, biting her lip. She wanted to tell him that she was fine, that all was well. In truth she had been getting up earlier and retiring later, and yes, Guinevere had found her twice in the clothrooms window sill soundly asleep. But, not for the reasons that Lancelot was thinking now, she was not sick or tired. She turned to face him again, trying desperately to put a smile to her face.
"I am fine Lancelot, this time of year is hard on everyone, with winter to prepare for. I just need to be taken up and danced with more often!" She smiled, attempting to jest with him and lighten the mood taking effect between them.
He raised an eyebrow to her and cleared his throat. Their eyes met and he held her there for a moment. He was looking at her like that again! Stabbing eyes... it was making her very self-conscious.
"Why are you looking at me like that?"
"Like what?"
"Like you are... are... oh!" Cerys spurted and waded away from Lancelot. She needed to put some space between them; this closeness was muddling her thoughts.
She felt a hand on her arm.
"Cerys, please... Have I done something to make you angry?"
This was not the exchange she wanted. Her friend was worried about her and she was behaving like he was treating her poorly! She was so happy to have the men home. But... She was working herself so hard since they had come home, cooped up for hours inside taking care of provision lists and food stores, organizing staff schedules... Baking, cooking, preserving for winter... Damn her thoughts! They were ruling her head this past few days and it had to stop! She had responsibilities and she needed to keep a level head for handling them. She should not be so testy.
She rubbed her hands over her face, feeling the warmth from her wet hands across her cheeks making her skin prickle once she lowered them. She turned around in the water to apologize. He was only inches from her, and she became keenly aware that they were both naked. She looked up at him and their eyes locked, his showing her the concern he had.
Cerys felt like her knees were going to give way at that moment. She put a hand out to his arm to steady herself and took a deep breath. Silly girl, she admonished. She could not tear her eyes away from his, and for a moment they just stood there, looking at one another. She bit her lip again and slowly, as if possessed by another woman entirely, reached up with her other hand and traced the crescent moon scar above his heart. She left her fingers on it for a moment, blinking slowly, moving her gaze from his eyes to his scar.
Lancelot grabbed her hand, and his other hand left her arm and found its way around her shoulders. He pulled her into him and groaned softly.
"I am alright, and I will be. I know that when we leave you that you worry. I wish I could tell you that we will always come back, but I can't and you know it. Short of immortality, we can do nothing but do our best to come home again." He said thickly. She could hear his throat working as he swallowed. Damn her insensitivity to their station as knights. She should know better!
She nodded against his chest. He took breath again. "And you need to stop working so hard. Put your tally sticks away for today and come on a hunt with me. I think Tristan and Gawain are coming too. It will relax you."
With that said, he released her slightly and looked down to her. She felt his gaze and again their eyes caught. Her breasts were pressed up against his chest, his arms holding her close. Her heart beat was racing.
What was going on here? She thought. She wanted to push away from him but found herself unable to move. This had never happened before with them, and she was scared, but felt so warm. She thought that this was him comforting her, albeit naked in a bath, but it was comfort from a friend no less.
She heard him moan ever so softly from somewhere deep in his chest and he lowered his head and kissed her lightly on her lips, his arms locking her close. He kissed her again, this time a little harder, another groan escaping him. She felt, somewhere beneath the water, his manhood rising up to brush her thigh.
Cerys somehow found the strength and pushed away from him. This was so unlike him! She brought a shaking hand to her lips. This was not comfort from a friend.
"Cerys, I..."
The look on his face told her that he was truly sorry for what had just happened. She could see his eyes, pleading for her understanding, his throat working again, as he tried to get words out. He started towards her but she held up a hand. She did not want him any closer, this was getting out of control and she had to stop it. She was not going to let this happen! How stupid of her to have stayed in the baths. She should have gotten out when he arrived.
"I think I should go and leave you to your baths." She said, voice shaking along with her hand.
She backed up to the stairway, climbed out and quickly grabbed her dress. She quickly threw it over her head, pulling it down so hard that she heard a few seams rip. Bloody curses, but she was so mad at herself right now!
"Cerys..." He was still moving towards the stairway out of the pool, his hand running across the top of his head in frustration.
She could hear him calling her name as she ran from the baths, her dress sticking wetly to her body, her hair flying in all directions. She did not stop until she reached her own rooms, where she threw herself to her bed and sobbed.
Dear Reader:
Angst is a necessary part of opening the heart to what you had never thought there. Please let me know if I have properly captured the confusion that Cerys feels at her lack of control over her thoughts for our dear Lancelot
Thank you for your reviews and I look forward to more chapters to share with you.
Cardeia
