Gwen; or now Gwaine as Owen had introduced her, had grown up on a farm. She had gutted pheasants and carved pigs. She was used to having her feet deep in mud and shit and her arms covered in blood, but was still rather apprehensive at the thought of going to war. This may have been for several reasons. One, she could die. This was an extremely good reason and incredibly likely to be the case. Another was that the blood on her hands would belong to other people.
Getting into the army was surprisingly simple. Owen had introduced her as Gwaine Cooper, son of Geraint Cooper and therefore Gwen received the conscription notice for her family. Her hair had been cut roughly on the day of her humiliation and fell in ragged bangs across her forehead. Owen was correct in assuming no one would care enough to check the Coopers had a son. The Daleks were thought to have a massive army and their own army were signing up as many soldiers as possible.
Owen lead Gwen to the Physician's tent and dumped his kit bag in a corner. Gwen had no possessions but the rough clothes Owen had leant her.
"Are we sleeping here?" Gwen asked in a voice that suggested she would rather have stayed somewhere else, such as a castle with a poster bed and lake view. Sadly; as this was an army camp, such a room was unavailable.
"We need to be close at hand in case someone gets injured," Owen replied, shoving a blanket into Gwen's amrs, "That's your bed,"
Gwen frowned. "What shall I sleep under?"
"Your cloak, obviously. Now stop behaving like a flipping princess, we have work to do,"
"Owen," Gwen murmured quietly in case she was overheard, "I'm not a doctor,"
"Really?" Owen cried in amazement, "Well no one told me,"
Gwen was begining to wonder what she ever saw in Owen. She had already given up on explaining why she felt he was worth throwing her life away for.
"I mean, I don't know what to do if someone is injured and I have to tend for them,"
Owen's face softened. "I'll tell you what to do. And frankly; the higher ups have their own physicians attending them, they don't give a damn what happens to the foot soldiers,"
Gwen looked up from where she was spreading out her blanket.
"Then why do we fight for them?"
"I'm not fighting for them! I'm fighting for the poor souls back home whose lives will be destroyed if the Daleks break through our defenses. And I suggest you do the same,"
Owen knelt down in front of Gwen and looked her in the eye.
"Gwen, I'm telling you now. People will die. You yourself may die. And at one point you may have to kill someone. When these things happen, remember who you are fighting for. Not for the nobles with their horses who can leave at any moment and leave the canon fodder for dead. No, you're fighting for the normal folk like you and I. You're fighting for the women who may be raped, the children who will be slaughtered and the farmers who will see their lands torched before their eyes,"
Owen and Gwen stared at each other. Owen's uncharacteristic passion left Gwen feeling uneasy. And a slight niggle of resentment entered Gwen's brain.
"You mean I will be fighting for the people who called for my death and threw me in a cell?"
"Exactly! Think of it this way, do this for them and you can consider yourself far their superior,"
Gwen gave a small smile.
"Well I do like to consider myself better than others. Which had been admittedly hard to do these last few days,"