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 55: Grief Washed Away
Cerys flopped down onto the bed as they entered the room, her feet dangling off the edge. After they had buried the small bundle and Arthur had said a few words, they had dispersed. Lancelot had walked back with her and Brinn and told them that Gareth was now home to rest, and how they had found him.
It was good that Gawain and Lancelot together had both struck the sword to earth in front of his final resting place.
She felt that he was hesitant when he spoke of their battle and the realization of the banner, but didn't tell her all of it. She could see how haunted Gawain was, and she saw the pain in Arthur. Something else had happened while they were out, and it had pained Arthur deeply.
No matter. When he was ready to speak of it he would. She knew better than to pry. It was bad enough how they had come upon what remained of their companion. She felt disgusted, but somehow, it was tempered with relief. They knew now. All they needed to fill in the gaps was Gawain's memories. She wondered if he would share them now that this had happened.
She looked up to Lancelot, who was stripping out of his clothes in the corner, the sodden trews making a plopping noise as he flung them at the wall. They were ruined to wear as leggings again. Cerys reminded herself to bring them up to the laundry to scrub the leather clean. They could re-use them to make glove palms for the men, and perhaps even patch some of the children's shoes.
He made his way to the chair by the fire and looked pensively into the dieing embers as he settled. It was a warmer evening, but he shivered.
Cerys got up and walked over to him. He sat, naked, his arms propped on its arms, his legs outstretched. He was filthy, he smelled, and she could see a gash on his thigh. He was also so tired she wondered how he didn't immediately drop into sleep.
"That needs stitches." She pointed to his leg. "You want me to get Dafydd, or can I do it?"
Lancelot looked up at her, nodding. He hadn't said much after they had said goodnight to Brinn. He had gone, in fact, completely quiet, his face set. She grimaced.
"Well, which?"
He sighed. "Get Dafydd."
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Once Dafydd had finished with his leg, and had pushed a pot of arnica into Cerys' hands, he made to leave quietly. He had already seen to Arthur, who had cut his shoulder. Arthur had filled him in on what happened.
"He may need a few days to recuperate from this." Dafydd murmured as Cerys showed him to the door.
"I know. I don't know all the details of what happened, but I know that this is not going to be easy for him. My concern is more for..." She replied, raising her hand, looking at Dafydd.
He nodded. "Galahad is with him. They will take turns watching him."
Cerys was relieved at that. "Thank you Dafydd." she said as he ducked out the door. He nodded and stepped away down the portico. Bors needed tending now, and it was the next stop.
Cerys went to the well and brought in a pail of water. Once the fire was roaring, she set it to warm. She pulled a cushion over to sit near him, and bent her head to his knee. His hand came out to her head.
"Love?" She said quietly.
He made a noise to let her know he was listening. She looked up quickly to see his head back on the chair, his eyes closed, his face now relaxed. She was glad for that, if nothing else.
Crumbs from a quick meal of bread and cheese she had fetched while he was being stitched peppered his stomach and thighs. She smiled at the memory of how he had wolfed it down, and put her head back to his knee and stared into the fire.
"Will Gawain be alright now?"
A huge sigh echoed out of him. He stroked the top of her head a couple of times, and slowly opened his eyes.
"I don't know." He said, his voice gravelly.
After a few moments of quiet, she got up and brought over the water. She proceeded to bathe him, and he let her. Normally he would have been ticklish, and would want to do it himself, but she insisted, and he grimaced as she washed him. She felt a bit playful, wanting to lighten his mood, so she purposely lightened her strokes. She watched his skin twitch as she grazed his lower abdomen. She traced scars with her other hand as she washed.
"Woman, you have the unnerving ability to use the lightest touch in the areas you shouldn't" He said through clenched teeth.
She giggled. "You, Sir, need to relax."
A hand came out and stopped her. "Enough."
She handed him the rag and he finished the job himself. She went and found a wool blanket for him to dry with, and he dunked his head in the water to wash his hair.
Once he had again found his way into the chair, she dried his hair. He sat back and looked up as she tousled his curls through her fingers, combing them through.
"Are you quite through primping me like a woman?" He grumped.
She laughed quietly as she crouched at his side, plastering arnica on his bruise. He kissed her, nipping her earlobe as she finished, wincing as he leaned over to do so. Cerys sighed. He could undo her just with his body, but she needed to be mindful of his injuries this night. She packed away the desire in her abdomen for a later time. She stood and wiggled a finger at him silently.
He smiled and leaned back again, closing his eyes.
The bruise had wound its way around his side, and was a deep shade of purple. No ribs were broken, but he would be too sore to ride for a day or two much less get up and down without effort. It was huge. She would have to ask him what had caused it.
She wasn't sure, however, if she wanted to know. Pictures in her mind of huge and dangerous weapons swinging at him made her blink and she shook them away. Some parts of her were still the worried woman, the one who would feel the knot in her back when they rode out the gate. That part would never leave her, but now she knew how to deal with it better, instead of blanking her mind to all but work.
Thank the Gods he had good armour.
She put the pot back on the water table and washed her hands in the pail, the water now filthy from his bathing.
Lancelot rose from the chair a few moments later and made his way stiffly to the bed. He sat down and ran his hands over his face, the dark circles under his eyes shining. His entire body showed exhaustion.
A night sleeping on the floor in front of Gawain, then a full day of riding, plus battle. It was much for any man to handle. She knew he would need a day or two of sleep and quiet rest before he would be back to normal. Would he allow himself that? She knew he had not really talked much about what happened other than to fill her in. She was worried this turn of events would...
Nonsense, she told herself. He had told her only last night that she was what he needed. She relaxed and remembered his words. She would try her best to just be there, be what he needed, whatever it was.
"I could sleep for a fortnight." He mumbled as he tilted over onto his side and pulled his legs up, wincing again at the stiffness of his thigh.
Cerys pulled the bedding up and over his legs. He looked up to her under his heavy eyes.
"Join me?"
She nodded and went to undress. Once under the bedding, she lay against him, mindful of his bruise and his thigh. His head found its way to her breastbone and he curled up beside her.
Her hand played with his hair absently as she stared up at the roof.
Suddenly she felt wetness on her shoulder. She turned her head and saw Lancelot silently weeping. His eyes were closed, tears falling out between the lashes to run down onto her skin.
"Love..." she whispered.
He held her tighter and she heard a soft sob escape him. She shifted up on an elbow; he sat up, frustration on his face. Her hand came to his face, wiping away tears.
"I'm sorry for all of this. This is not your fight, it's..." He rasped hoarsely.
"It's alright." She said as she sat up and pulled herself up to straddle his lap, folding him against her with both her legs and hands. She held him tightly as he began to cry openly, his forehead on her shoulder. She stroked his hair, rubbed his shoulders, rocked him ever so slightly.
How many times had she done this for Arthur? Held him and comforted him, let him cry. Now, she could do the same for him. She kissed the top of his head, she murmured comforts to him. So much pain. It was not fair that they had to deal with this over again, fresh, as if it never happened all those years ago.
She held him like that for some time, his arms holding her tightly, weeping like a child. She eventaully shed tears as well, feeling his sadness, his pain.
He looked up to her as he began to dry his eyes; his lips thinned together, his eyes swirling with pain and red-rimmed.
"I do not deserve you, this comfort." He said quietly. "You give so much, what do I have for you in return?"
She ran a thumb across his cheek.
"You are my strength. Through you, I am a better woman."
He shook his head. "How can I do this when I don't know what will become of me in the next day, the next battle...My world brings uncertainty."
She smiled and climbed off his lap to lay beside him, pulling the covers back over her. He lay back down on his side and gazed at her.
"Lancelot... No matter what happens, we are together here..." She pulled his hand up and brought it to her heart "And here." She touched his forehead.
He nodded then, his eyes downcast. "I still do not know what it is that I can give you."
She pushed him down on his back, and leaned over him, their eyes locked. What could she say? She saw his questions in his eyes. She knew he worried about what would happen if indeed he did not come home. She put a hand on his chest, and softly kissed him.
"Your love." She replied with soft determination. "Is what gives me everything I could ever need."
Lancelot closed his eyes, and Cerys could see a wave of emotion pass over his face. They held each other then, Cerys listening to him finally drift off into much needed sleep.
She hoped that her love would be what he needed now, and that he would be alright.
She kissed his forehead. She would make sure of it.
Dear Reader:
It's Lancelot's turn to be comforted and reassured that he is enough for her! She knows that she will be enough for him when he is grieving, and now he is reassured by her that she finds what she needs in him!
And the circle is complete and they are at a deeper level of understanding than they ever were before. Friendship turns to love (after some speculation), then to partnership. All that is left is the ceremony so that Perceval can get drunk and cause trouble (grin). And our love story is almost complete!
It's now time to get outside in the evening air and go for a gallop on my horse. Cheers to having the chance to do what you love on your weekend, with the ones you love doing it with!
Cardeia
