With All My Heart
Summary: "I will not let you die." She breathed. "Not again.." – Time Travel, Arthur/Guinevere.
…WAMH…
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drip
drip
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drop
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drip
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drop
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She could vaguely hear the rhythmic sound of liquid in the edges of her mind.
..
drip
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Where was she?
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drop
..
The calming sound was slowly letting her fall into deeper slumber.
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drop
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'Child'
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Hm?
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'Gwen'
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Who?
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'Guinevere'
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Guinevere?
Was that her name?
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'C'mon now'
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Guinevere
Yes, her name is Guinevere
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'Wake up, Gwen'
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But, I don't want to
It is so comfortable here
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'C'mon now lass, wake up.'
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Do I have to?
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drip
drip
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drop
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'Make haste now, you don't want to be late do you?'
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What?
Late for what?
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She felt a gentle hand shaking her shoulder slightly.
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No, go away
I want to sleep
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'Wake up child'
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Persistently, the hand continued shaking her shoulder. She was slowly being brought back to the brink of consciousness.
"Gwen, wake up now lass."
She groaned, not wanting to wake up yet. She was ever so comfortable here.
"You will be late again, if you don't get up now." A warm voice of a man said. For some reason, there was something about it that made her feel calm and protected.
She gave one last groan before reluctantly opening her eyes. She closed her eyes as soon as she did, blinded by the light coming from the window. Rain drops can be heard pattering against the panes.
"I made breakfast." chuckled the man, bustling around the room. "Gruel, your favorite."
A sudden wave of coldness rushed through her being.
No, this is not possible
Heart hammering against her chest, she slowly opened her eyes again and looked around the room. She was in a familiar small yet quaint room that was filled with few humble belongings.
"Gwen, hurry up and eat some grub. You have a long day ahead of you."
Guinevere rapidly turned her head to the man who had spoken, not caring the least that she slightly cricked her neck in the process. A man stood in the front of the fire, scooping up a handful of gruel in a bowl and placed it on their rickety wooden table.
"Father?"
Tears rapidly blurred her sight as she took in the man she had not seen in so long. A man she knew to be dead.
This is not possible
"You better hurry." stated Tom, his back facing her as he arranged their meal on the table. "or Martha, the evil cook of Camelot, will be on your case again. Don't want that, do you?" he barked in laughter at his own joke.
"Martha, the evil dragoo- oof!"
Guinevere collided with him; embracing him tightly for all that she's worth. She sobbed uncontrollably against his chest.
"Father." she whimpered, not letting go of her father even for a moment.
She felt herself choke up at the extremes of emotions dwelling upon her.
"Hey, hey," Tom stared at her daughter with worried eyes, patting her back and wiping the tears that were falling fast on her cheeks. "What's wrong?"
"I-I, I thought that-" she gasped, her entire body trembled. "You were gone!"
"Gone?" exclaimed Tom, perplexed.
A new onslaught of tears overcame her, hindering her ability to speak coherently.
"Shh," Tom consoled her daughter, and then proceeded to cradle her face in between his hands.
"I saw you," choked Guinevere, clinging to her father. "I-I, saw you-"
"Guinevere, listen to me," he said, looking at his daughter's glistening eyes. "You only had a bad dream, nothing more."
"But-"
"Look here lass, I'm fine, I'm fit as a fiddle." reassured Tom, smiling gently at her, wiping the tears away from her face. "Besides, I would never leave you, not for anything in the world."
"But I saw you-" she gasped.
"And as I have said, it was nothing but a dream." Tom said, embracing his daughter. "Nothing but a dream, Child."
Guinevere leaned into her father's embrace. Sobs still occasionally shook her delicate frame. She felt warmth spread through her being as she took comfort on the fact that her father was alive.
Nothing but a dream
She had always prided herself for her independence. She had been forced to grow up much earlier on than other children her age the moment her mother passed away. Her father had wallowed in grief for months after her death. Tom's grief had only managed to push his already delicate relationship with his son to the breaking point. Years later, Elyan left home.
Little Guinevere had no choice but to support her remaining family the best she could.
But just for this moment, she allowed herself to depend on her father again. A thing she had not done ever since she was but a child.
Letting his arms cage her, protect her, from the harsh realities of the world. Even for just a moment.
..
Was it all just a dream?
..
…WAMH…
Guinevere walked through the streets of Camelot garbed in cloak to shield her from the light drizzle of rain. The rain had started to abate and the sun was starting to peek from the heavy clouds in the sky.
I don't understand
Her mind was muddled with thoughts. Earlier, she had confided to her father about her dream, father was adamant about that. She had tried to grasp and remember what her dream was about, but it was like a haze was suddenly cast over it. Try as she might, she can only remember certain things from her supposed dream. And those things were ridiculous indeed; thank heavens her father was the only one present when she was blabbering about it.
After all, how could she, Guinevere, a mere servant girl, a blacksmith's daughter, and a handmaiden to the King's ward, could possibly be Queen?
Guinevere? Marry Prince Arthur? Preposterous.
If anyone could hear her now, she would probably be thrown in the stocks for even thinking of such a thing. People would think her mad.
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But why did it felt so real?
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It can't be real
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Can it?
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She groaned, frustrated at herself.
No, it was just a silly fantasy, a fantasy of every other female servant in Camelot. She thought she was above that, fantasizing about a Knight in a white stead taking her away to a distant land.
She scoffed at the thought.
Guinevere was no dreamer, she was a realist. After all, fantasies such as that will not keep her mouth fed. She would rather focus on her work and earn honest money instead of wasting precious time thinking of such ridiculous notions.
It was for the best to just forget about it.
..
Nevertheless, why did she felt that something was not right, something had niggled at the edge of her mind…
She shook her head, trying her best to dispel such thoughts from her mind.
No, Father's right, I need not concern myself with this.
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All of it was nothing but a dream.
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…WAMH…
The kitchen was bustling in commotion once again; people rushed past each other as they either gathered ingredients for the next meal or tried to stir at different pots at the same time. If Guinevere could summarize it in one word, then she would definitely word it as chaotic.
Vaguely, she could hear the head cook, Martha, or the evil dragoon, as her father was kind enough to supply, was already screeching at the top of her lungs again about some injustice being done in her kitchen. It really wouldn't come as a surprise if Martha had led a battalion in her past life.
Guinevere sighed tiredly, feeling an ever present ache in her head. Couple that with the various aromas mixing in the air around them, as well as the warmth that the stoves emitted. Well, let's just say that all she wanted to do was crawl up in her bed again and sleep the day away.
Splendid, it was only morning and yet she felt already exhausted.
"You there!" bellowed Martha, pointing her ladle towards Guinevere, who jumped slightly in shock.
"Well, what are you waitin' for?" Martha pointed at a dish sitting on the table. "Bring that to your mistress before it gets cold!"
Eager to get out of the cook's way, she picked up the dish and a jug of water before quickly rushing out of the kitchen. She headed immediately to Lady Morgana's chambers, not really paying attention to her surroundings. After years of serving her mistress, she knew the castle like the back of her hand.
It did not take too long before she reached her destination. Balancing the food and the jug of water in one hand, she raised her other hand to knock at the wooden door. But her hand stopped in mid-air before she could even make contact to the wood.
Huh?
For some unknown reason, her whole body tensed. She felt something squeezing her chest and her palms began to sweat. She was nervous about something that much she knew. It was like her own body unconsciously knew something she didn't.
Stop being so silly Guinevere
Stilling herself, she knocked at the door.
"Come in." a melodious voice was heard.
"Good morning Milady," greeted Guinevere, slipping through the door and closing it behind her. "I brought your breakfast."
"Pleasant morning as well Gwen," smiled Morgana, glancing at her from beside the window.
Guinevere halted as Morgana glanced back at her, their gazes colliding. She felt herself stop breathing; her earlier nervousness came back at full force.
"Is something the matter?" asked Morgana, concern painted across her beautiful features.
"A-ah, No, it's nothing Milady," she curtsied, confused at her reactions herself. "But thank you for your concern."
Forcing herself to shake off these inane emotions, she proceeded to organize the food on the table.
"Are you certain?" asked Morgana, walking over to her and gazing at her form to scrutinize any flaws that will indicate to her illness. "It'd be best for you to rest if you don't feel well."
"Oh, no Milady," reassured Guinevere, shaking her head. "I just probably slept in the wrong side of the bed, is all."
"Well then, if you're sure." conceded Morgana, smiling gently at her. "And please, stop calling me 'Milady' all the time, it makes me feel old. I have told you time and again to just call me 'Morgana' when we're alone Gwen."
"Yes Milad-" Guinevere stopped, seeing Morgana's raised brow. "-Morgana." She smiled sheepishly.
"Better." Said Morgana, lips twitching in amusement.
"You should probably eat now before the food gets cold." She suggested, gathering the dirty laundry. She stacked all of it in a pile in a corner before she then proceeded to make the bed.
"Actually," muttered Morgana, staring back at the window. "I'm afraid I've no appetite. I'm feeling rather faint. I think I'm coming down with a bit of a cold."
"Really?" asked Gwen, worried about her mistress. She came over Morgana's side carrying the laundry along. "Do you want me to get you anything?"
"A tonic would be nice." said Morgana, turning to her. "Gwen, would you be a dear and request Gaius for a tonic?"
"Certainly." nodded Guinevere, hefting the laundry up in her arms more securely. "But you should probably eat something before that, even a bite will do."
"I will, I promise." smiled Morgana, placing her hand on Guinevere's shoulder.
Guinevere could not stop herself from tensing from under Morgana's hand. The feeling of the contact unnerved her greatly.
"Are you sure you're alright?" said Morgana, frowning slightly as she felt Guinevere tense.
"Y-yes." stuttered Guinevere, abruptly pulling herself from Morgana's grasp. "I.. I better go find Gaius." she added, trying to smile, though it probably came out as a grimace judging from Morgana's expression.
She hurriedly left the room, laundry in hand, feeling the weight of Morgana's gaze at her retreating back.
…
A/N: Pretty short chapter, I know. Sorry about that, I promise that the next chapter will be longer. It's just, I'm so busy right now, studying for my NMAT and all…
Anyway, to make up for this rather short chapter, I'll give you a little sneak peek to Chapter 3. :D
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The people that had gathered around the incident stared in awe as a group of Knights passed through. Yet it was the man in front who caught her attention.
Her heart clenched at the sight of him. Such longing filled her very being.
The sight of him alone caused so much reaction from her, and yet, she did not know why.
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Guess who that is.. kinda obvious.. :D
BUT the scene is subject to change,.. my mind is always changing, I'm weird that way,.. so yeah..
Many thanks to the following wonderful individuals:
Guest#1, Guest#2, Larasmith, buzzy31bee, whitecrossgirl, somegirlinthisworld, aprilf00l, Arthurlover7, Guest#3, and energis121
