A/N: So, as I said in the last chapter's notes, there's some emotional trauma (at least, for me) ahead. On the bright side, I got to write a nicer bit for the next chapter (which was actually going to be part of this chapter until it got wicked long, which is why this chapter is so short). I'm still aiming to be done in fewer than five more chapters, but we'll see!
Disclaimer: See Chapter 1.
After dinner, Dinadan pulled out a small harp and coaxed Olwyn to sing with him. They sang several ballads, not all of them in a language that Morgause understood, but they were all beautiful songs. Partway through the concert, Vanora sent most of her children to bed; the baby girl, Jennie, stayed asleep in Bors's arms, while a toddler boy, Llamrei, slept on his older brother Dagonet's lap.
The sound in the tavern had mostly died down during the music, and stayed low even after Dinadan finished playing. Outside, the drums had stopped as well, and Morgause guessed that most people had probably retreated to the warmth of their homes. The conversation around the table was soft, both due to the drowsiness of those speaking and a desire to avoid waking the sleeping babies that Morgause, Cymbeline, and Gawain were holding.
A sudden commotion outside halted most of the conversations throughout the tavern as its occupants' attention was drawn towards the door. The noise grew louder and most of the knights rose to their feet. Cymbeline passed Rhience to Grav and followed Bedivere towards the door. Gawain passed Bella to Gareth and had started after them when the door burst open and a man with a close-shaved head and a wild look in his eyes burst in. Morgause noticed quickly that there was a great deal of blood smeared across his arms and chest.
"Bedivere!" the man shouted, and the big healer rushed forward. After a moment of quiet discussion, the man and Bedivere raced out onto the street. Cymbeline and Gawain traded a confused glance before following after. The other knights and many of the tavern's occupants trickled out after them.
Morgause was still inside, although she was nearing the door, when she heard Cymbeline shout: "Lucan!" As she left the warmth of the tavern, she saw Cymbeline running towards a small boy with sand-colored hair, a pair of cuts across his face bleeding profusely. He was absolutely covered in blood.
Cymbeline dropped to her knees in front of Lucan and cupped his face with one hand, the other tracing the air over the cuts on his face. "What happened?" she demanded as Gawain rushed up behind her and began checking the boy for injuries.
Lucan remained mute as Gawain searched his arms and torso. "Lucan, whose blood is this?" Gawain demanded, finding no wounds besides those on the boy's face.
Lucan's lip began to tremble and his eyes filled with tears as he lifted a shaking finger to point towards Bedivere and Ganis, who were leaning over a body they had pulled from a horse.
"Jorah," Cymbeline gasped, then turned back to Lucan. "Lucan, where's your brother? Where's Griflet?"
Lucan's tears began to spill over as he shook his head, silent sobs wracking his small body.
"Lucan, where's Griflet?" Gawain leaned down next to Cymbeline, catching the boy's chin in his hand and meeting the child's soft blue eyes with his dark ones.
Lucan shook his head again, his eyes drifting towards the body of his father.
"We need to get him to the infirmary," Bedivere's voice drifted away from the cluster of people around Jorah. Together, Ganis, Bors, and Kei helped Bedivere lift Jorah and carry him away, leaving one of Ganis's men standing with Jorah's horse.
"Take that to the stable," Arthur instructed the guard before striding towards Gawain and Cymbeline. "Is he alright?" the king looked at Lucan.
"He's in shock," Cymbeline replied. "I don't think he's hurt, besides the cuts on his face, but he's in shock."
Arthur nodded, then turned to look towards where Jorah had been carried off. "I'm going to go see what they can tell me about how Lucan got here. We need to find out what happened."
Gawain glanced up at Arthur and nodded, then turned his attention back towards Lucan.
"Lucan, can you talk to me?" Cymbeline prodded gently. "We need to know what happened. Where is Griflet? And was there anyone else with the three of you?"
Lucan merely shook his head numbly. Before Cymbeline could ask another question, another guard ran up, eyes wide and out of breath.
"What is it?" Cymbeline asked, standing.
"Another horse," the man gasped. "It was dragging its rider behind it."
Even from the distance, Morgause could see the color leave Cymbeline's face. Gawain stood and rested a hand on her shoulder. Morgause was the first to see the little boy bolt in the direction the guard had come from, a frantic look beneath the blood running down his face.
"Lucan!" Cymbeline cried again, chasing after the boy, Gawain just behind.
Lucan was fast, but Gawain had longer legs. He caught up quickly and grabbed Lucan's shoulder, whipping the boy around. Morgause saw him shake the boy roughly once, holding tightly to his shoulders, before picking him up and setting him on his hip like a much smaller child. Cymbeline had disappeared towards the gates, the guard following her, and Kei following the guard, but Gawain brought Lucan back towards the tavern. Grav jogged forward to meet his brother.
"What's going on?" Grav asked.
"I'm not sure," Gawain replied, coming to a stop in front of Morgause. "This is Lucan. He's Bedivere's youngest brother, and Cymbeline's cousin. Bedivere will be busy for a long time, from the looks of things; could you take a look at Lucan?"
"Of course," Morgause nodded, handing baby Lot off to Dindrane.
Gawain passed Lucan, who struggled slightly, to Grav. "Don't let him leave here," Gawain instructed. "Do you hear me?" he caught Lucan's chin and forced the boy to look at him. "You're not to leave the tavern."
Lucan looked both stubborn and broken at the same time, but he reluctantly nodded. Gawain glanced back to Morgause and nodded, then ran off in the direction Cymbeline had disappeared.
.*.*.*.*.*.
By the time Gawain reached the gates, Griflet's body had been bound in the loose tartan of his kilt. Kei was just finishing the wrapping, with the help of one of Ganis's guard, when Gawain approached; Cymbeline stood off to the side, holding the reins to Griflet's horse. She stroked the beast's nose, her hands leaving faint red smears on its hair.
"He's dead," Cymbeline's voice was thick with tears, and she didn't look at Gawain when she spoke. "He's fifteen, and he's dead."
Gawain looked at the tartan-wrapped bundle. "You should take the horse to Jols," he said. "It's hurt; Jols might be able to help it."
Cymbeline nodded, her eyes focused on the horse's face. She took a step backwards to lead the horse towards the stables, but the animal's legs crumpled under it and it collapsed to the ground with a cry. Cymbeline stumbled back, tripping over her own feet. Gawain caught her before she could fall, and pulled her away from the horse, which had begun to thrash on the ground.
Cymbeline buried her face in Gawain's chest and cried, partly because she couldn't help herself and partly to drown out the sounds of the dying horse. Everyone around them stood frozen, staring either at the struggling animal or at the too-small body shrouded in tartan wool, blood still seeping through the beige fabric.
When the horse was still, Cymbeline took a step away from Gawain and looked up at him, her eyes still watery.
"I have to go and tell Lucan," she said softly.
"I'll help Kei and meet you at the tavern," Gawain murmured, brushing her hair away from her face before leaning down to press a kiss to her forehead. "If you want to wait, I can tell him."
Cymbeline gave a little shake of her head. "I'll do it. It should be me. I'm his cousin."
Gawain nodded. "It's your choice."
Cymbeline looked back up at him. "Go. Help Kei. I'll see you soon."