Hey all. So here's good old chapter 6. I hope you all enjoy it. Again, I'm kinda hoping to get a Beta. So if anyone wants to read my chapters ahead of time and just gimme some feed back (grammar and spelling help would rock my world) tell me about it in a review or e-mail me and maybe we can set up a system of some sort. It would be much appreciated- no worries if no one can though.
Disclaimer: I don't own anything except for my own characters. Anything/anyone you do not recognize belongs to me. I may use lines and/or quotes from other sources, which are not my own, later on in the story. I'm not quite sure though-so I''m being un-specific. Those (if I do choose to use them) also do not in anyway belong to me.
NOTE: Merlin isn't gunna be showing up until next chapter. Sorry to all you Merlin fans...cause I know there are just so many.
HOPE THAT EVERYONE HAD A GREAT HOLIDAY SEASON
Choices
Chapter 6: A Boy I Used to Know
Night had come upon the caravan, and it found Lena and Guinevere within Fulcinia's private wagon. As she had promised, Fulcinia was giving the girls their long awaited bath.
Lena gave a deep sigh of relief as the Roman woman gently poured warm water down her back. Working diligently, Fulcinia was able to wash away the thick layer of blood and dirt covering Lena and Guinevere from head to toe. Under the grime she discovered strange and graceful blue markings swirling down the girls' backs.
After throughly washing Lena's face Fulcinia smiled slightly. The girl's countenance was very nearly normal. There was no trace of swelling, though light bruises were still visible. Her eyes seemed, if possible, brighter in contrast with her pale skin.
Lena shivered as a cool wind hit her wet body. The only wagon available for bathing had a screen wall on one side, making things rather cold.
Lena turned her head slowly and looked over her shoulder out of the screen. She saw a figure in the dark-Lancelot? Yes it was Lancelot, and as her vision adjusted she was able to make out his face, his eyes. He was watching her strangely, and she returned his gaze.
"Tilt back you head, child." Fulcinia said, holding a vile filled with a thick liquid.
Lena turned suddenly at her words, surprised.
"Your head..." She repeated, thinking Lena had not heard her.
The woad looked back to where Lancelot stood, but he was no longer there.
Facing Fulcinia again, Lena nodded and tilted her head as the woman had instructed.
Guinevere watched the entire scene suspiciously. What was Lena doing? Why had Lancelot been watching them bathe? This was only a little strange.
Fulcinia artfully tied back both girls' hair, after combing it to a shine. She then provided them with dresses, cloaks, and leather slippers-all in the traditional roman style. Both dresses were dove gray, and held together by golden brooches at the shoulder and elbow. Neither girl could quite "fill out" the garments, but they were thankful none the less.
Guinevere sighed deeply. She had never been so happy to be washed. The warm water had cleared away the filth and grime of the dungeon. The water could wash away the proof of her torture. She finally felt clean. For the first time since her rescue, Guinevere truly felt free of the prison.
After helping them tie on the thick burgundy cloaks, Fulcinia sent the girls on their way. Both woads thanked her profusely, and left.
"We are to meet father tonight." Guinevere spoke in their native tongue, not wanting anyone to overhear the conversation.
"We shall wait for everyone to fall asleep, you must bring Arthur to Merlin, and I will follow." Lena answered in the same language as they walked closer to the knights. "Can you get him to follow you?" she asked.
"I think so." Guinevere scanned the campsite until her eyes fell on Arthur. "I will."
Lena nodded. As she was about to head towards the campfire where the knights were situated Guinevere spoke once more.
"Will this work, Lena?" Lena turned to look at her cousin. "Will Arthur fight for us?" Worry was quite apparent in her eyes. Lena could see how hard this was for Guinevere. She liked-well more than liked- Arthur, and she did not wish to hurt him, but they needed him to fight.
"I cannot be sure, but I believe he will fight...for you." she whispered. Guinevere nodded, and left pondering her cousin's words.
Tristan looked on from the shadows as the girls parted ways. He had been watching them for quite awhile. He did not trust either of them, for several reasons.
One-they were woads. WoadEnemy. EnemyBad.
Two-that Guinevere one had gotten to Arthur, and Lena to Lancelot. He knew the power of a pretty woman, and that his comrades were infatuated. InfatuatedBad.
Three-there was something strange about Lena. He couldn't quite place it, but something was off, and what he saw at the fire the previous night only added to his suspicions. He had heard the roman guards talk about her as though she was a worshiper of black magic. He did not entirely trust the reasoning of the guards, being that they were Roman-and idiots. But either way, Black MagicBad.
Four-he'd been listening to the girl's conversation carefully, and though he did not understand the language they were using he had heard two very key words. Arthur and Merlin. They were planning something that involved his leader and the infamous Dark Wizard. That he would not have.
The girls were clever, they had charmed his friends with the least bit of effort, but they had not taken Tristan into account. And Tristan had eyes that could see through anything. Well, almost anything.
Taking the first available seat she saw, Lena sat herself beside Galahad on a log in front of the fire.
He looked at her strangely before a spark of recognition flashed through his eyes. "Lena! You're..You're clean!" he gaped, taking a swig from his drink.
How was one supposed to respond to a statement like that? "Yes...thank you?" she said uncertainly.
"I can barely recognize you with a clean face and a proper dress, Lass!" Bors laughed.
Lena feebly forced a chuckle at Bors' words. It was making her uncomfortable to have the men look at her like this.
Lancelot and Gawain approached the fire, and Gawain placed himself next to Lena. She caught Lancelot's eyes, and though he did not seem at all surprised at her sudden cleanliness, he averted his gaze.
Was he embarrassed? Was Lancelot embarrassed? No that's not what this feeling was. He had seen her bathing-and it wasn't that Lancelot didn't enjoy seeing her (or any pretty woman for that matter) without clothing-but it felt like Lena was better than that. She was too beautiful to be spied on as she dressed. Lena was worth more than your average naked woman.
Worth more than your average naked woman? What was this! He had himself rifling through this nonsense for a woad! One who was, until very recently, hideous!
Lancelot dared to look up at the subject of his thoughts. She looked rather uncomfortable, he noted, sandwiched between Galahad and Gawain. She smiled softly at something the slightly drunken Galahad whispered. Lancelot smiled at seeing her do so.
"And I like her very much!" Galahad concluded quietly. He had, in his partially drunken state, confessed to Lena that he found Etta to be a "very nice looking lady, indeed." It appeared that during their brief ride together that afternoon the young knight had grown quite fond of Lena's new friend.
"She is very kind." Lena agreed.
"Yes! Yes, I thought so too!" He stated excitedly. "Very nice!" he repeated, clapping Lena on the shoulder as he spoke happily. She went ridged a his touch.
And then, though her eyes still appeared to be taking in the sights currently around her, all she could see was Galahad wielding a blade and bringing it down upon what was obviously a woad warrior. The cold steel cut through his abdomen and crimson gushed not only from the fresh wound, but from the mouth of the dying woad.
Lena inhaled sharply at the sight.
"Are you alright, Lena?"Galahad asked at hearing her gasp, his voice bringing her back to reality.
"Yes." She breathed. It had been one of Galahad's memories of battle. "Yes," Lena repeated louder "just thinking."
Memories were the easiest things to see. Men are made of moments passed-things so common they took no effort to see. Memories gave themselves to Lena, she need not try to see them. When viewing the past, the sight did not affect Lena so drastically. She went a bit stiff, but other than that one could not tell she was "seeing" anything.
Lena's mind raced over the vision she'd just had. The man's eyes had been wild with fear as he lay gasping for air. Blood sputtered from his colorless lips, mixing with his blue woad paint. A sickening feeling of familiarity washed over Lena was she watched the man die over and over in her mind's eye.
She recognized his face.
A wave of nausea hit her as Lena realized she knew the man she had just witnessed Galahad kill so ruthlessly.
"Anlaf." Lena breathed the name.
He had been a boy from her village-only two years younger than Lena. At 12 he had fallen hopelessly in love with Guinevere (he'd grown out of it by the time he was 13, mind you, but it was all she could remember of the sweet boy). Lena had not even known he was dead. It must have happened well she was in the prison. And the man sitting mere inches away from her was responsible for his death. Galahad had slaughtered him without so much as-
'That's not fair, Lena' she silently reprimanded herself. 'He's doing his job. Woads have killed countless knights. Kill or be killed. It's not his fault.' she reminded herself. 'It's not his fault.' she repeated the words to herself over and over, but try as she might Lena could not shake the image of the dying woad from her mind.
"Are you sure you're alright?" asked Galahad once more, smiling goofily.
"Yes." she answered, surprised by the harshness of her own voice. Lena knew she had no right to be angry with the knight-he was even worried about her-but she was angry.
Galahad, taken aback by the tone of her answer, was suddenly snapped from his drunken, Etta-induced euphoria. The look of surprise on his face trounced Lena with guilt. He could have no way of knowing why she was upset. This was not fair. How could Galahad understand that she had just seen him murder Anlaf?
Pretending had always been the hard part for Lena. Making sure people who couldn't know about it didn't know about the sight. Pretending she hadn't just seen life escape a boy she used to know. Or a massacre. Or a child drown in the river. Or whatever it was her eyes were forced to look upon. Before she had come to the Woads, before people had known or understood what she was, she had been normal. She hadn't a need to pretend then. But Lena couldn't remember that time.
Even with the woads she had to pretend. Make believe she could control this thing, this "gift". Pretend it didn't hurt her, that it didn't scare her.
"I have to go." She said dully, looking away from the fire. She couldn't let herself break down like this in front of all these people for no apparent reason.
"Lena, are you-" but before Galahad could finish his sentence she was gone.
Lancelot watched as Lena, who was very suddenly looking rather sickly, stumbled away from the campfire. "What have you said now?" he asked Galahad, his voice full of accusation, as he began to stand.
"Nothing, I-I just asked if-" but Lancelot was already gone, following his woad through the dark woods.
Lena found a relatively clean spot on the ground, untouched by the icy snow, under a large tree. She threw her back against the trunk and sat, staring into the cold nothingness of the forest.
And then Lena let herself cry.
Because now Anlaf would always be the boy who wrote sweet love poems to her cousin. And because she knew that Galahad didn't wish to kill at all. And she cried for those who would die in the war, because there would be a war. She had already started seeing the deaths that would occur, in her dreams. Only faceless Saxons so far-but soon the visions would be of dying friends. More Anlafs bleeding into the earth. She cried because all would be lost if the woads could not win this-their home would be utterly destroyed. And she cried because Arthur was selfless and his men loyal-she knew he would fight and that his knights would join him. She cried more for the knights because she knew how they felt. Lena was trapped too. They would be free someday but she would always be crushed by the burden of her sight. No matter how many years she waited she would never be granted freedom.
A twig snapping somewhere to her right brought Lena from her thoughts. She looked up to find Lancelot standing several feet away.
"How long have you been there?" she asked shakily while brushing away her tears.
"Not long." he lied. He had been there the entire time, watching her cry. "I wanted to make sure Galahad hadn't upset you too much." He came closer, noticing her red eyes. "Seems he has..." her face was still wet with tears. "Damn eunuch" Lancelot muttered under his breath. The young knight always ran his mouth off once he had a bit of ale in him.
Lena laughed at the eunuch statement-though she knew Lancelot had not intended for her to hear it. "No, no" she replied. "He hasn't said anything. I'm just...tired." she supposed it wasn't a full lie. She was a bit tired, more mentally than physically...but that counted too, right?
Lancelot furrowed his brow and gave her a incredulous look. "...Tired?" He doubted that tiredness could send a girl like Lena into such a fit. Lancelot knew how Galahad could behave once drunk-he just hadn't thought it enough to make a woman cry like that.
Lena did not wish to lie again. Instead she said "Galahad hasn't done anything, Lancelot. Please believe that." and hoped it would be enough.
What was she supposed to say? 'I'm crying in the middle of the forest because I just witnessed your friend slaughter a boy I knew very long ago and I've recently received several visions of dying Saxons in the war that is so soon to come-which, by the way, I know so very much about because I am the legendary Woad 'Seer'
No, she was just guessing-but it didn't appear that would go over very well. So she looked at him, pleading with her eyes that he would let it be.
Lancelot nodded. "Very well." Lena sighed thankfully. "So then tell me," he began, a smug smile drifting into place. "What is it that's gotten you so upset?" He sat down beside her as he spoke.
And she had thought he was letting her off so easily.
"I'm worried, I suppose." It wasn't a lie. She was worried.
"Ah, worried." again he smiled charmingly. "And who is it you're so worried for, fair lady?"
"Everyone." she whispered.
Lancelot gave a look of concern "Everyone is quite a few people, Lena."
"This war that is almost upon us, Lancelot, it will change everything. It will change life for everyone. If we should fail, if the Saxons take Britain, the land, the people (not just the woads) and their livelihood- it would all be destroyed." She slammed her hand against the ground in exasperation. "We are a thousand to one! We cannot win, but we must!" She sighed in frustration.
'She has very pretty lips.' thought Lancelot as he studied her face. Then, feeling guilty that all her could think about were lips as Lena poured out all her troubles (which were troublesome indeed and, in fact, being poured out because he had asked so diligently asked to hear), Lancelot forced himself to concentrate on her words. Not her enchanting eyes, or how lovely she smelled, or how soft her hair looked...
"And if we won, our land would finally be ours."she continued . "The Romans are leaving-this should be our time! We have waited so long to keep this place, to have our home. Now we have this threat. We must fight again." she looked Lancelot in the eyes. "So many will die-Woads and Saxons alike. Much blood will be spilled in the days to come." Lena summed up her worries for the curious knight-conveniently excluding Anlaf, Galahad, Arthur, and the sight. "The woads-we've been fighting so long...they need to know peace, Lancelot." the knight was startled by how familiar her words sounded.
Lena let out a soft, cynical laugh "I suppose there's always a war though..." she muttered, looking up through the branches of the tree she and Lancelot sat beneath.
He chuckled at her dismal words. "Always a war" Lancelot repeated it softly to himself. Lena turned her head to look at the knight. He held her gaze and Lena, while staring back into his dark brown eyes, realized just how close she was to Lancelot.
She spoke more softly than she had before "If only for a while, the woads need fighting to stop." Lena could feel his warm breath on her freezing cheek. "Temporary peace."
Again, his alluring smile fell in place. "Too much peace," he leaned closer to whisper in her ear as though he was confiding a great secret. His hot breath tickled Lena's poor ear into a enticing frenzy. "would be dreadfully boring." his closeness sent tremors down her spine. Lancelot's eyes darted down to her lips and thoughts similar to his previous ones raced through his mind.
Lena's eyes searched his face hungrily as well. She wanted to respond to his statement-say something-but she could not find the words. She was silenced, however, before she even had the chance to speak by Lancelot's lips softly brushing over her own. He paused, as if waiting for approval. She looked a bit startled, perhaps he shouldn't have done th-
Lena kissed him again, this time harder and more deeply. Lancelot returned the favor with as much vigor as she had. Her hands found their way to his chest, and though it was covered in chain mail armor, the touch drove him wild. She shivered with delight as his hands ran up her back
They were forced to break apart for air. Slightly out of breath, Lena spoke. "Who could possibly live with boring?" she smiled playfully and Lancelot laughed.
It began to rain again, and the two made there way back to campground slowly, speaking along the way. It was growing late and when they reached their destination Lena headed towards the wagon. She needed to wait with Guinevere. They still had to see Merlin tonight.
When Lancelot reached the fire most of the knights were starting to settle down for the evening. He found himself a tree to sleep against and laid down. And though it was snowing, he was freezing cold, and knew that they were no less than a day away from confrontation with the Saxons, Lancelot found he was oddly happy. And so he drifted into a light sleep, thinking of Lena- with eyes so bright they burned his very soul.
Arthur sat wide awake. He could not sleep knowing the Saxons where so close behind, knowing that all these people were in danger even as the slept. He was driving himself mad, he knew he desperately needed rest-but rest would not come.
Guinevere silently nodded to Lena before soundlessly exiting the wagon. It was time and she could feel it-without Lena telling her so. She had to go to Arthur and take him to her father. She prayed that it would go well. Many a thing were to be revealed that night. Arthur would be given a choice that would change the lives of all her people.
Lancelot watched as his leader followed Guinevere through the snow. He'd expected as much. It had been obvious that Arthur felt for the girl. What he had not expected, however, was to also see Lena, following the couple. What was going on? He began to stand but stopped as he spotted yet another stealthy figure moving along the path the previous three had taken.
Someone was following Lena.
Ooooooooooookay. So this time I seriously expect to have the next chapter up relatively soon. Although a month is pretty good...for me...
Thank you so much to all my wonderful reviewers. It really does help a ton. To all of you who asked about Dagonet, Tristan, Lancelot, and there respective deaths I'm afraid you'll have to wait and see. The scene with the Saxons on the ice will either be in the next chapter or the one after that. We'll find out about Dagonet soon.
blue