This chapter is a semi-continuation of the Holy Grail "interlude" so go check that out if you haven't yet.
5th century Britain
Camelot
Hands of steel grip Excalibur tightly, fingers sticky with blood.
She is breathing hard, taking advantage of the small respite in battle. A hard-won break after taking down five enemy soldiers.
None of the blood coating her armor is hers. At least not yet. Instinct honed after years on the battlefield has kept her alive this far, but...
Avalon has been lost.
When she woke up in the morning, Excalibur's sheathe had disappeared from her tent.
Normally, knights would have been sent to find the holy scabbard, but with hordes of Saxons on the way, Arturia knew she couldn't spare a single man.
A horse neighs from the side and the king raises the sword to block. Only to breathe a sigh of relief at the sight of Bedivere's face.
"My lord, please get on," he says, drawing Llamrei's reins behind him.
And so, Avalon or no, she rides and fights. Retreat and defeat is not an option.
If she has to, she'll carve out victory from the enemy's blood, one corpse at a time.
She promised Gwen after all. Pendragons don't die easy.
And it's time to teach the Saxons exactly what they mean when they say you should never wake a sleeping dragon.
The battle has been won and the battlefield is silent.
Her hands are shaking and she doesn't know if she has just forgotten what pain felt like or it's the fatigue seeping through her bones.
It's not her time yet, she knows.
Visions of a hill of bodies streaked red by sunset have haunted her since the day she drew the sword of appointment.
It doesn't look like this, she knows.
But as her knees buckle, for the first time, she fears what's to come.
She thinks of a laughing woman with blue eyes atop a black mare and a child whose eyes are as green as her own as her vision grows dark.
Guinevere stands frozen in front of the wooden doors.
There wasn't enough time to bring the wounded king to their bedchambers. And so she's here, watching castle servants run to and fro carrying bloodied bandages for all of their soldiers.
Avalon was lost, Bedivere told her. She had to stop the man from kneeling and begging for forgiveness since he let the king get hurt even as she felt her heart fall when she heard the news.
And she stands frozen in front of the physician's room. She's heard the stories of the unbeatable king for over ten years, seen Excalibur's brilliant shimmer herself on the battlefield.
"I- I don't know what to do," She confesses.
"You don't have to be here, my queen." Her loyal knight, Lancelot, grabs her outstretched hand that was about to knock on the door.
He's right, she doesn't have to be here. Arthur himself sent her away with a smile when she visited her wounded husband in the past.
But back then, there were cheers of victory and joy in the Great Hall.
Tales of the strong Gawain, the skilled Lancelot, the reckless Mordred, and of course, the undefeated Arthur, were told for months around Camelot and the rest of their sprawling kingdom.
Today, she can still hear cheers from the hall and mugs of ale passed around. But the mood is quieter, somber.
And the king is not awake.
But even so...
"I can't leave, Lance. I owe this to Arthur."
She is Guinevere Pendragon, Arthur's queen. Camelot looks to her for inspiration just as much as they watch their king.
Taking a deep breath and gathering her courage, she knocks.
The physician, long entrusted with the king's secret, bows as she enters.
"Kay," she says, spotting the brown-haired seneschal sitting by his 'brother's' bedside. He looks so 'lost' that Guinevere grits her teeth in worry. "Is he..?"
"What? Oh no, no. He's fine." Kay quickly stands and offers her the seat. Rubbing his hair he says, "It's just... you know, I've always wanted to beat my brother. At anything. But I never... seeing him like this, I-"
"Maybe you can carve him a new lion when he feels better."
Arthur told her the story long ago. And despite the massive number of gifts they've received as a couple over the years, the misshapen yet lovingly carved "lion" always had a permanent spot on the royal dresser.
She looks away as Kay bites a quivering lip. "I-yeah. Maybe, maybe a dragon this time. Thank you, Gwen."
Lancelot bows and claps a soft arm on the other knight's shoulder, leading him outside.
Alone now, she wordlessly grips her husband's hand and prays for her family's swift recovery.
Notes: So in Garden of Avalon, Sir Kay practically ridicules King Arthur and his ideals. Now, true to Fate fashion, I don't think he hates his "brother" and is instead endlessly frustrated with what Arthur's life has become. Remember, he and Arturia grew up together and he's been with her the longest out of any of them. So what happened in the end has to have hurt him a lot.