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 45: Tempered Pain
Cerys picked at her venison on a plate between her and Lancelot. She wasn't very hungry. She sighed and rubbed her eyes and pushed the plate away. The past few days she had not been overly interested in food. Perhaps she was just bored with winter rations and longed for some fresh vegetables and fruits, even fresh olives if they could get any from the port!
Her thoughts turned to spring planting and all that she would need to make ready. She would want more leeks this year, perhaps a few more turnips? Turnips preserved well.
Why was she thinking of turnips? She had a wedding to keep her occupied! She laughed to herself as she realized that although she was this new woman, old habits did die hard. She still had a fort to run, and her mind would never let her forget it.
"No appetite?"
Cerys lifted her head to regard Guinevere, patting her small round belly. She was just beginning to show. After so long, it was good that she was so proud of herself! She should be.
"Not really. Perhaps I am just tired."
Guinevere nodded and tweaked Lancelot's hair, causing him to turn around. Cerys noted he had been deep in thought since their late afternoon at the baths and she hadn't asked him about it yet.
"What?" He asked, amused.
"You look perplexed Lancelot, lose your singing partner?" Guinevere teased, picking at the food Cerys had pushed away.
Lancelot chuckled and then grimaced in jest, throwing his hands to the air.
"No one appreciates my efforts."
Cerys smiled as they bantered back and forth. She watched people come and go in the common, men gambling, drinking, women on their laps, and an air of happiness. A warm breeze blew through the fort this evening and it was easing the long winter nerves that developed from being cooped inside. The breeze tossed sparks from the brazier in the air, sending them wafting out over the crowd, the flames suddenly bursting upward with the new influx of air. She let it hypnotize her, tuning out her friends jesting. It was so beautiful, and she put her chin in her hand to watch it.
"I am not a goat." Lancelot lamented at Guinevere's reminder of his night in the straw, his eyes sparkling with mirth "One night falling asleep in the straw and everyone assumes the worst!"
Cerys made an attempt to stop her laughter as she caught the tail end of the conversation, and eventually all three laughed at his last comment.
Guinevere and Cerys talked a few moments more, then Guinevere saw her husband and moved off to join him. As soon as she was gone, Lancelot looked to Cerys. He put an arm about her and pouted.
"You would not laugh at me being stuck in a straw pile with a goat would you?"
Cerys thought a moment. "Yes, my lover, I would. It was very funny, and you know it."
He growled then, pulling her up to him and play biting her neck, making her giggle. His teeth found her shoulder and he nipped. She put her arms to him and then their lips found one another.
"You even nip like a goat." She teased, and he made a noise to protest the joke.
A cup thwacked down on the table in front of them, startling them both.
"Get a room." The flat voice attached to the hand that put the cup down said.
Cerys looked up and into Gawain's eyes. He looked troubled. He had looked troubled in the baths, but she had not wanted to disturb his peace. He had seemed quieter all day, even when out hunting. She tilted her head to him. They had invited him for a throwing contest earlier; Cerys thinking it may clear his head and bring his smile out. Lancelot had agreed.
"Gawain, are you well?"
Gawain sat and then drained his cup. He hiccupped and looked between Cerys and Lancelot. Cerys reached out a hand to him. He ignored it. She wondered at this man. He felt so deeply, and his nightmares had been constant since mid winter. He had not even brought his throwing knives. Had he forgotten?
"Gawain, man, what is eating at you?" Lancelot asked, his own face showing a perplexed look, trying to understand the man. Cerys wondered if she should leave them to talk alone, and went to rise, but Lancelot tightened his grasp around her waist, silently telling her to wait.
Gawain looked to the bottom of his cup and then away over Lancelot's shoulder.
"It is nothing, just restless."
"Horse manure." Lancelot spat back.
Gawain looked to Lancelot, slightly annoyed. He fiddled with his empty cup. Lancelot took the cup out of his hand and set it down. Gawain picked it up and went to rise.
"Need s'more."
"No, you don't." Lancelot said, quietly, picking the cup out of his hands again. "You're in no shape to be drunk."
"Piss off Lancelot." Gawain growled, rising and swiping the cup, knocking it clear of Lancelot's hands. It bounced loudly to the floor, and the common went quiet as they attracted the attention of other people near them.
Lancelot had risen with him, going nose to nose with the knight, his fists pressed down to the table. Cerys watched, a bit worried now, and edged down the bench to be out of the way.
They glared at each other silently, their poses mirrored over the table, arm muscles bunched, jaws clenched. One dark, one blonde. Cerys swallowed. She did not want a fight. She looked between the two of them, trying to figure out if she should say anything. She wanted to scream stop! Lancelot interrupted her thoughts by speaking.
"Stop being so bloody moody and tell us what is wrong." He said quietly between teeth, flicking a glance around him. "We'll go for a walk."
"It's none of your business." Gawain said, hotly.
"Gareth isn't my business?"
Gawain roared and flipped the table in front of Lancelot, sending the man backwards onto the floor, skidding backwards from the force. Cerys screamed. Plate and cups flew off, landing with a clatter, food spraying across stone.
Cerys was pulled out of the way by Galahad before she was hit by a table leg. She landed in a heap in his arms, and he hefted her back to her feet. She immediately went to run for Lancelot, but Galahad held her fast.
"No. You'll end up in the way and hurt."
One plate rolled on its edge, the sound slowing as it settled, the entire common silent except for that noise. Someone coughed.
Cerys watched, helpless, as Gawain stalked up to Lancelot, who was picking himself up, dusting off his clothing, glaring.
"You have no right." He seethed as he pushed Lancelot in the chest. Lancelot pushed back.
"No right? He was my blood cousin. You think I do not grieve?" Lancelot yelled, his eyes flashing anger now.
Gawain took a swing at Lancelot, who ducked. They pushed at each other a moment. Cerys pulled at Galahads arm hold. He held her tighter.
"Let them Cerys." He said quietly in her ear.
"Why is he like this?" She whispered. "This isn't the Gawain I know."
"Gareth went out in late fall, and they found him in the Spring, don't you remember?"
Cerys nodded, remembering. His green scale armour shining in the late autumn sun, her laughing as he hugged her, then mounting his horse. He was always so grandiose in his actions, his dark eyes never showing any fear.
"Do not fret, my fair maiden, I shall return triumphant!" He had said as he swung his gloved hand in the air, gesturing grandly.
Gawain had laughed and wiggled his eyebrows at her as they rode out. The two of them always rode out scouting together.
Gareth never came back.
Now she understood.
Lancelot was attempting to calm Gawain down, who was having none of it. They circled one another. Gawain lashing out, Lancelot ducking, trying to grasp his arms to settle him.
"I have no wish to fight you Gawain." He said as he stepped out of the way of another punch.
Gawain grunted, his eyes blazing and he stepped forward again. "He was my friend. He was my responsibility." He shouted.
The rest of the knights were standing, Arthur was pushing his way through the throng to get to the circling men.
"Enough!" he bellowed as he reached the two warring men.
Gawain turned his head towards his commander. "None of your business Arthur."
"You are my knights, and I am your commander. Now I say enough!" He said, turning his glare between the two men.
"Arthur..." Lancelot began. Arthur held up a hand.
Gawain lunged forward then, Lancelot stepping out of the way. Arthur put an arm across his chest and levered him back. He went nose to nose with the blonde man, forcing Gawain to look him in the eye.
"Stop." He said. "You do no good fighting it this way."
Cerys watched Gawain sag then, the energy and anger leaving him. Her heart went out to him. He was in such pain. Why? What had happened all those years ago to make him dream such horrible things since? She looked back at Galahad out of the corner of her eye. He was still holding her tightly, even though she wasn't trying to run to Lancelot anymore. She brought a hand to his, on her shoulder.
"I'm sorry Galahad. You should go to him."
"And do what, exactly? I have tried talking, I have tried fighting. I have tried drugging. Nothing works, nothing helps."
She could hear the resignation in his voice.
She patted his hand as Dory came up beside them. She looked to Galahad, then to Cerys. Cerys pulled herself from Galahad's grasp as he relaxed.
"He needs you." She whispered to the girl as she walked out towards the trio of men.
Gawain turned as she drew close. She could see tears in his eyes, the pain now at the surface. She reached out a hand to him and he brushed it aside as he stalked away, out of the common. She felt a hand on her shoulder as she turned to watch him.
"Are you alright?"
She nodded. Arthur sighed and slipped his arm around her shoulders.
"I don't know what to do."
Cerys reached out a hand to Lancelot and nodded. He took it and pulled her away from Arthur into his arms. She could feel his heart racing, and his muscles shaking. He was still angry, she could feel it, but he was also feeling as helpless as any of them right then.
"None of us do either, cousin. None of us do."
Dear Reader:
And Gawain breaks.
Galahad is getting frustrated, and perhaps a bit discouraged that his brother, despite what he does to help, is getting worse. It can be hard for anyone to handle that. And now that Galahad is happy, and a future with Dory on his mind, he would dearly love for Gawain to buck up and be happy too. Happiness is infectious! But so is sadness. Gawain is unable to beat back this demon, and it is rearing its head.
Gawain loved Gareth, he was the knights best friend, as Arthur is to Lancelot. The pain at losing him has festered for so long now, it is time for the wound to open.
I leave you with awish.
May your meet your own demons head on, with chin raised and eye bright, capable of bringing them down and defeating them with hypothetical sword in hand.
May happiness then infect you, and your own lives ring with the laughter now shared at its coming.
Cardeia
