A/N: I know exactly where I want to go with this story now, so I'm really eager to write the next chapter; this is a short hold-over until I finish that. I hope you all enjoy it, even if there isn't much of it!
Disclaimer: I own nothing, don't sue.
Dinner was a somewhat rushed affair, in which little politics was actually discussed. Either Elaine's father found it distasteful to do so in front of ladies or he found himself truly at a loss for words. Guinevere imagined it was a bit of both. Elaine simply looked mortified all throughout dinner. She did not once turn to Arthur, barely even spoke to him. Instead, she gazed morosely across the table. Her shock and horror at the shameless flirtations of Arthur's knights she was apparently unable to disguise. The girl shot Guinevere a glance that said you should discourage them if you love Arthur so.
Guinevere smiled in return, her special triumphant smile. Jealous, Elaine? You would do the same with Arthur, if you had the courage…you will, no doubt, whenever I am not with him.
She found the meal to be somewhat enjoyable; the wine was not watered down thoroughly enough, and the room was stiflingly hot, causing the satin-like material of her gown to stick against her skin. All of it was going to Guinevere's head, and it caused her to be a little giddy. Her eyes had gone just slightly out of focus. Her cheeks had colored. If the flirtations had been entirely innocent before, as the night wore on, Galahad and Gawain looked at her in a different way: almost hungrily…and Arthur's gaze hardly strayed, the blazing blue eyes remembering their stolen moments the evening prior to Badon Hill, a meeting which had never truly been resolved these many months. While it would be fair to say that Guinevere glowed by the end of the evening, Elaine simply became more mousy and withdrawn, angrily forced into admitting her opponent was, just then, worthier than she.
Arthur stood when all the dishes had been taken from the table, moving to go around to Guinevere's side, but Elaine caught his arm. "My lord…my lord, will someone not show me to my chambers?" she inquired sweetly.
A skeptical expression crossed his face like a shadow. "Why, my lardy, you seemed to be perfectly capable of doing so yourself this afternoon," he replied coolly. Guinevere had to look away so that no one but Galahad and Gawain could see she was grinning over Elaine's plight. She hardly felt sorry for the girl, whose cheeks had turned a bright, embarrassed pink.
"I – I – my lord, I have never had the honor of visiting Hadrian's Wall before, and it is quite dark. Please…"
Her eyes were large, pleading, almost innocent…they could have fooled Arthur, if Arthur had not already caught onto Elaine's game. Just then, before he could refuse, Elaine's father spoke up. "Yes, Arthur, I really think it's for the best…for my daughter's reputation, you understand. Best not to take any chances." Guinevere felt disgust rising in her throat. She did not have time to watch this woman play the fool that she so obviously was not. People respected Arthur; knowing the girl was under his protection, no one would dare to touch her. What man would want to?
Yet now Arthur could not refuse. He frowned. "Sir Bors' lady –"
Elaine, heedless of any civility, eyed Bors with a suspicious glare, and then shrieked with ill-mannered laughter. "Sir Bors' lady," she repeated, "is no lady at all." Bors' face reddened, and Guinevere put a hand against his own to try and calm him. She may have been unkind to Elaine earlier, but there was no call for this.
Before anyone, however, much less her father, could breathe a word in protest, Elaine came around the table, planting herself squarely behind Guinevere. The look flashing in Bors' eyes was murderous, yet she simpered when she spoke. "Forgive me, sir, but I think Lady Guinevere ought to show me the way, if it isn't too much trouble for her." And though Guinevere shot her a look as she turned to face the hideous girl saying plainly that any favor done for Elaine was more trouble than it was worth, she appeared to be utterly oblivious. Perhaps she'd seen the looks passing between Arthur and his lady, and decided to intercept them at the source. Not that your God would let a woman decide how best to use her own body, Guinevere thought to herself bitterly.
But if they were going to play Elaine's game…Guinevere's face brightened considerably, as the girl's father turned to look at her. She could practically hear his thoughts: no civilized woman would reject the request, leaving a poor girl to find her way alone. Haughty, ignorant Christians. Ten of your weak-willed and cowardly people could not equal even one Pict, her mind spat fiercely. But she kept her emotions in check. To win this, she had to act and do it well…and she was learning quickly that there, skill was with her.
She stood and watched with slightly narrowed eyes as Elaine floated to her side, moving as slowly and deliberately past Arthur as she could. Then, Guinevere seized her arm, hooking their elbows, and all but dragged the girl out. She did not even have time for a meager good-bye. Guinevere was sending her a message.
Arthur does not even see you.
Sending it, hoping not to reveal her real intent: keeping Arthur from seeing her. As much as Guinevere trusted him, she knew that men were weak. They indulged themselves in beautiful women. Elaine was, especially by those unfathomable Christian standards of grace, innocence, and true beauty, radiant. If only she was not so miserably ambitious, groveling at the feet of Arthur, begging him to love her so that she might live the life of nobility, that she might be renowned, be…Queen. Guinevere let the thought go, utterly disgusted. Disgusted with herself, even. For whoever won Arthur won all that, though it was not what she sought herself. She merely wanted the man.
They walked in silence until they reached Elaine's appointed chamber. The door was open, ready and waiting for its new – and Guinevere could only pray, temporary mistress.
"Good night to you, Lady Guinevere," Elaine said curtly. "Thank you for showing me the way."
It is not that simple, Elaine. Instead of releasing the girl's arm, Guinevere used all the strength that ran in her blood, all the things the Picts had ever taught her, and pressed Elaine into the stone wall. She was pleased when Elaine's eyes widened with apparent alarm, and then with fear. If she thought Guinevere was going to kill her, she was truly ignorant, but it was all the better that way. She would not do anything of the sort. She was going to make her point clear – that was all. "Arthur is mine, Lady Elaine, and you would best remember it. I do not say that out of jealousy, or spite. He saved my life. He pulled me from the rubble of a Christian's so-called mercy. And we love each other. Arthur is my life, and you cannot take my life from me."
They stared at each other for what felt like an eternity. Elaine's blue eyes narrowed. The fear Guinevere had read in those deep, azure pools began to ebb away, replaced by something inexplicable – pity. And contempt. As though it was Guinevere who was groveling at some man's feet, trying to impress them and woo them away from their lover. No. There was something darker there. Something that struck her as sinister, and made her shiver imperceptibly.
"Oh, no, Lady Guinevere," Elaine murmured in a soft, eerily benevolent voice. "I would not dream of such a thing." She took advantage of the new slackness in Guinevere's arms – the fear she had so suddenly instilled in her adversary – and slipped away, closing the door sharply.
Her breathing became labored. She had no idea what to make of all this. What was Elaine plotting? Hardly anything struck terror in her heart, but the maliciousness in her rival's eyes… It was nothing she had seen from someone who claimed to be a docile, obedient Christian. But she had seen that sort of look before, and was reminded painfully of her brutal imprisonment at the hands of men who claimed to be acting in the name of their God. They claimed they were doing it to save her soul. They were wrong: it had been Arthur, Arthur and his knights, who had given her reprieve. Not the Christian's God, who had not lifted a finger to save her from the miserable conditions that had rendered her half-dead.
Then, she had wanted to flee anywhere from that expression, full of hatred and condescension. Now, where could she flee? It hadn't lasted more than a few moments, and complaining to Arthur would seem childish. Would he even believe her? He could accept that Elaine was a silly girl with a father hungry for power and position…but he would never accept using the word "evil" to describe her.
Guinevere walked slowly back to her own room, lingering in the doorway. The men were probably still laughing and joking…expecting her. But she could not go back there. Not now. Instead, she pulled back the coverlet and laid down without pulling off her gown or worrying about her hair. She wished her father was there. Merlin would know what to do. He always did. But she had just seen him that same day – and come back to Hadrian's Wall with a warning. If there is something malicious in Elaine, would he have kept silent about it? That reassured her slightly. She was letting her imagination get away with her – she was remembering all the heartless Christians who had ever hurt her creep into how she saw little Elaine.
And with that thought, repeating it continually in her mind, she slowly fell into slightly troubled dreams.