My apologies this is so absurdly late (well, certainly to my mind) but school is really kicking in for me now. I've recently struggled through my French speaking exam (god, that was AWFUL!) and thankfully it is another fortnight until my exams really make themselves known. I hope to get this story done before the end of June, but i just cannot prioritise it over my GCSEs! Anyway, you're not here for a sob story. On with the chapter!
CHAPTER EIGHT: The Past is a Ghost, The Future a dream. All we ever have is now.
Gwen woke the next morning, stiff and troubled. She hobbled to the nearby river and washed her face and neck whilst her eyes adjusted to the blood red sunrise. She would have to get to Llanchad today and most definitely without Lancelot tagging along. She sighed, shoulders drooping as she made her way back to the remains of the campfire.
He was still asleep and curled into himself like a worm at the wrath of a blackbird. She drew her eyes slowly over his sleeping form, the matted brown hair and the faint muzzle of stubble dotting his chin. It seemed so familiar. Something tugged at her and she turned away, feeling like she was intruding.
Gradually, she went about collecting her belongings, soothing her horse and tidying as she went. It would seem odd to try and tidy up a forest formed on the bases of leaf litter, but to the devote servant it became an excuse to preoccupy her hands.
Finally, she took one last look at the sleeping knight and stepped up onto the horse, struggling with guilt and responsibility. The Queen rode away from Lancelot for the first time, a strong, unexplainable sense of foreboding wringing her dry.
~o~
"And where have you been?" Merlin scowled, folding his arms over his chest.
Arthur pulled a face, tugging off his dark brown jacket and addressing the boy. "Merlin, you're not my father. Cut the parent act and go fold my clothes or something."
Merlin raised his eyebrows. "Fine then. Don't tell me why I went down to see you at the end of training and the knights said you'd already left. With Princess Rosaline."
Arthur shrugged. "Well then you already know where I was. With Princess Rosaline." Merlin looked at him, silently attending the washing pile. Arthur gave an irritated sigh. "She has been with fever for a few days now and was desperate to get some fresh air, so I went for a ride with her. I'm perfectly capable of looking after myself, you know."
Merlin snorted loudly, holding up one of the Princes' shirts. "Says the man who can't even fold his own clothes." Or be alive right now if it weren't for me… he silently added, folding the shirt precisely.
"Folding clothes will hardly save my life one day, Merlin." Arthur growled, pottering around uselessly.
"I'd go out of my way to make sure it does, for the sake of irony." Merlin muttered from behind another shirt.
"What?"
Merlin cleared his throat and spoke loudly "Did anything odd happen?"
"Oh." Arthur pottered about his room, pouring himself a glass of water and finally settling in his chair. "Yes, actually." He responds thoughtfully, tipping the water in his glass like fine wine. "I mentioned a dream I had recently and she burst into tears"
"A dream?"
"Yeah. She kept saying sorry over and over again, but she wouldn't tell me why she was apologising. In the end she decided she should go back to bed." Arthur pondered glass of water long forgotten.
"Arthur, the dream?" Merlin pressed, paused in mid-fold.
"Oh right. It's nothing really," He downed the water, throat gurgling. When he brought the glass back down, his face was once again thoughtful. "I was dying." His face twisted with concentration "And there was a woman by my bed."
Merlin's head snapped round to look at the Prince.
"She was saying things like… I'm going to live to be the man she sees inside me."
"Do you know who she was?" Merlin cut across, urgently.
"No." Arthur laments. "Everything was dark. But I've dreamt about her before, I think."
Merlin blinked. "You think?"
"Yeah. Her voice was so familiar." For a moment, he holds the pose, face moulded as he thinks deeply. Then something shifts and he lifts out of the chair, crossing the room to draw another glass of water. "Anyway. Shouldn't you be cleaning my armour or something?"
Merlin let out a breath he didn't know he had been holding. "Yes, sire."
Arthur grinned cockily and reached up to ruffle Merlin's hair. "Good little manservant"
~o~
Guinevere reached Llanchad a few hours before sundown. She stood at the top of the valley for a second, looking down on the smattering of houses. It was hardly a village; it was too smothered by fields and flora. At first she had wondered if she had truly reached her destination. It was run down, battered and seemingly unoccupied.
She stepped down from her horse and trod carefully towards the gaunt little place, knuckles turning white as she gripped the reins. There were a few houses, all obtrusively broken and a stray cat, thin and ragged wound her way piteously around the ruins. She jumped as a woman emerged from a house.
The lady wove past, paying no mind to the stranger. She was well built and fed, a basket of clothes straddled under her arm and a matted handkerchief tying her brown hair away from her face. There was a large gash of a scar slashed across her features, leaving one of her eyes half-closed. Gwen spoke up.
"Excuse me; is this the village of Llanchad?" She looked around, curiously, as if expecting a huge sign to point out a wizard's house.
The woman paused and stared at her suspiciously. "It is indeed, what business do you have here?"
Gwen fidgeted, now blatantly aware of the blood on her men's clothing and her well-fed castle horse. "I'm seeking a man by the name of Alderfil, would you happen to know where I could find him?"
The woman frowned at her, scrutinising her face as if detecting for lies. "Any man called Alderfil or an Alderfil in particular?"
It took Gwen to figure out what she meant and she flushed. "An Alderfil in particular, I'm delivering a letter for him."
The woman smiled then, much to Gwen's relief, but it was a hollow, pitying smile. "Well then, I'm sorry dear. I've lived here all my life and I haven't ever heard of anyone by the name of Alderfil."
Gwen sighed, absently playing with the reins in her hands. "Thank you for your help anyway." And the woman nodded and walked on, basket still in hand. She vanished shortly after, a blur of rags in fields of grey.
"You're searching for Alderfil?" Gwen jumped, hand on hilt as a voice popped out of the shadows. "Woah, woah, put the sword down, missy; you'll have someone's eye out."
She squinted as a figure emerged from behind a house. He held his hands out in surrender, but from the smile in his eyes she felt he wasn't truly scared. Gwen, on the other hand was breathing raggedly, staring at the man.
"That woman hasn't lived in Llanchad all her life. In fact she was brought up not far from where you're from." He gestured to the horse, which happened to have a Camelot seal blazoned on its reins. Gwen watched him fearfully, eyes flickering over him with the sword still outstretched. "But she didn't lie to you. She just doesn't remember. Which -" he stepped further out of the shadows, revealing a face lined with age but an upright figure proclaiming good health. "-Is vital for her to be able to start a new life here. Her childhood was broken with abuse, it fares her to believe she received that scar from a farming accident."
"Who are you?" She gasped, sword had shaking.
The man smiled toothily. "Well, isn't it obvious? I'm Alderfil."
~o~
There are flickers of images; a house, well-light but basic, a tournament in flashes of red and gold and a woman; the same woman, the woman from the dreams before. Arthur recognises her voice now and the familiar emotion stirred within him. It is at first warm, so he smiles blissfully in his comatose as snatches of conversation flutter through his mind. Then it twists and his heart is pounding and she is turning away. He must be screaming for her, longing for her and he is running but she is too far away. She is all around him, a smell of flowers, a touch on his lips then something rips and he is awake.
"Arthur?" He blinks blearily, making out his father's concerned face. "Arthur!!" He's being shaken.
"Wha…?" He collects himself, registering the ceiling of the grand hall and the collective distressed faces of the court. He shakes himself, mind not caught up. "I'm sorry. I must have fallen asleep." He blurts. He hears Merlin's voice somewhere above him, gabbling about lack of sleep due to nightmares. Something is missing. Someone is missing. His vision goes black.
