A Royal Pair, the Untold Story

AG1

"Yes, we must ever be friends; and of all who offer you friendship let me be ever the first, the truest, the nearest and dearest!" Henry Wadsworth Longfellow

Arthur, Guinevere, and the wounded Lancelot, Dagonet, and Tristan.
Camelot
late Augustus - early September 465AD

Was it her place to help care for the knights in this time of suffering? Not really but Guinevere would anyway. Though in truth she was in a manner of speaking keeping an eye on everything transpiring between Arthur and her father, for while Merlin thought better of him, she somehow doubted he could trust him to the degree needed to put the old man at true ease. After the chaos however, there was finally something of a… moment to breathe as it were.

Perhaps it was a female ideal but the one thing she wanted more than anything was to soak in a tub for... well if she could, days. After the battle, she had gone with her father for a while to tend to the wounds of her people, as was her first priority. Though she found it odd, the need she felt to see those knights who were left bed-ridden. Especially her desire to see Lancelot, though her father warned her to not look upon him with such kind eyes, she feared it was something she could not compel herself not to do.

She felt as though she were covered in blood, even well after the battle, she was still caked in the blood of others, and the paint she placed on her flesh. Long tresses of dark almost ebony hues looked darker than usual due to the smoke’s ash that had seemed to stain her hair. Taking a lock between her middle and forefinger of her right hand she smirked, thinking of the reaction the knights would have when she removed the dye from her hair.

Indeed our little Guinevere had a secret. To make herself a little less notable she coated the silken threads with such a dark hue, though in reality they were quite a few shades lighter. She idly wondered if either Arthur or Lancelot would recognize her after her cleansing of those herbs that made her hair so dark. Her father even had her use drops in her eyes to darken them a shade, the natural color of sky blue and her unique hair color was something she had been praised for as a child, and those who knew of her as his daughter... Well the old man was paranoid and wished people to not realize who she was if she were to be more fighter than feminine.

To counter the herbs which stained her hair she would wash them with a mixture that smelled of honey and oddly enough grain. Her father was quite the genius when it came to these sorts of things so she didn’t really question him. Though she more than likely if he ever offered to help her in matters of men she would shun him, thinking he would probably be thinking of poisoning a potential mate shortly after the ceremony. She had to chuckle at the thought... she knew he wanted her to find someone suitable, and even knew he might have preferred Arthur, though she sometimes wondered if Author even was interested in her. He wasn’t the type of man to actually show his desires when it came to women, or so she assumed, given the bare minimum of time they seemed to even spend together. Yet this was a point where he had little time for such things. Perhaps now that the battle was over he would be a little more open with any feelings he had.

Ironically, if Lancelot had not been harmed she was almost sure he would have been more attentive to her now. She assumed the two knew the other fancied her and so they were perhaps both contemplating if they wished to pursue her.

Whatever the case may have been, she was eager to see them both. The idea of either man being harmed had bothered her to a degree, and she had wished to avoid that result with all her heart. It took some time to clean herself of the battle’s taint and of the self-inflicted coloring to her hair, but soon she was fresh and clean. Looking down into the water of the lake near her father’s camp, she wondered if perhaps Arthur would think her possessed. Her eyes were a bit bright without the drops for a full day... She still relatively looked the same however, her features soft and feminine, with the ability to be quite scary if she was coming at someone with a weapon... but at the moment that was not near the case.

Those bright eyes looked back to her, gleaming in her reflection. Those long locks framing her face seemed foreign as well, and made her look quite different, a contrast to the normal, and when let down long seemed to bring out a softer look to Guin.

A pair of breeches and a loose fitting top was her normal attire though she added a cloak given the shock that her hair would pose. The dark hood covered up the drastic change, in order to not scare Arthur out of his skin, though a wry smirk had to come to her lips in thought of that stone hardened face of his showing a glimmer of shock.

She packed some saddle bags with herbs and medicines she thought the camp would no doubt be running low on and mounted the dapple gray mare with an ease that came with the practice she gained from years of doing so without assistance. While some of her injured were nearer to where Arthur was given their inability to be moved, she used that as an excuse to visit, considering her father wouldn’t keep the majority of the forces in the same place... they were allies but not complete friends as of yet.

Given that her face hadn’t changed most knew her and nothing different was seen about her as she rode into camp. She even forgot at one point that she looked any differently as her concern turned to the injured. Her cloak just got in the way so it ended up that the red locks and her bright eyes were no more hidden by the hood than if she had not worn it at all... since well she took it off within a few minutes of getting to the camp. Some just assumed she was a relative... others knew of her natural look, those who were her people that was...

Having a doppelganger that looked like her could have solved a lot of issues... Guinevere could be Arthur’s, the twin to Lance, or vise-versa... sadly though, even if one saw her and believed this to be a solution for but a moment, as soon as what would have to be, Arthur given the condition of Lance, heard her voice there was no mistaking it was Guinevere.

“He is giving you a fit? He is half dead, do you want me to believe you can’t overpower him?” She was of course referring to Lancelot, already giving trouble to his caregivers. She was giving one a look that could possibly bore a hole right into their skull. The poor man trying to explain but she would have nothing of it. “…’e is a big boy, ‘e can ‘andle it if you ‘old ‘im down and force ‘im to get well. Tie ‘im don if ye must.” The thought of Guinevere tying someone down in a normal situation might have been... rather interesting, though right now she seemed rather put out. Her jaw clenched and she pouted in her own manner, turning to tend to Lancelot herself.

She found him in a feverish fit, and instructed the poor man taking care of him to allow her to help. He more than happily obliged her and she took his place beside Lancelot. Her demeanor changed rather quickly, her voice soothing and almost cooing as she spoke to the wounded knight. “Lancelot... its Guinevere... can ye ‘ear me?”

If he opened his eyes he might see a very different Guinevere before him... but it was very much her... just with lighter hair... eyes slightly brighter... even if she might have smacked the first man to say it, she looked more gentle... more womanly... and a little less hardened than before. She placed one hand on his shoulder and the other held a cool rag that she held to his forehead. “Everything is alright now... I promise everything is fine… Sleep Lancelot... rest so ye can get well... ye must get well.”

Dagonet’s wounds were healing well, despite the multiple hits, him being in reasonably good shape. He had been wounded weeks before the battle, and he jokingly accounts for his quick recovery, despite the ferocity of his wounds, to the gods of Sarmatia, and how they did not want him to be with them in paradise… so they gave him extraordinary powers to stay upon the Earth… And each time Dag tells that story, Bors begins rebuking it by saying the gods were punishing him by keeping Dag upon the Earth with him… And those listening cannot help but laugh with each version of the story.

But after the battle, the young scout, Tristan, was in much worse shape. All feared for his life, and Arthur had ordered any, and all, physicians to focus every effort to Tristan. His sword arm would be lucky to even be able to keep the arm, much less use it… and the right leg, where the injury to the thigh had damaged the nerves and left his leg immobilized. Luckily the Saxon had not struck a higher and deeper body part.

Now as his wounds continue to heal, Tristan walks with a limp, and his arm in a sling most of the time… And he remains sullen, and retains feelings of uselessness… But to combat the uselessness, Arthur had ordered Tristan to begin instructing new recruits in tracking, scouting, and use of the bow… Not only to replenish his depleted forces, but to keep the Sarmatian scout occupied.

The bolt to Lancelot’s shoulder caused some damage… but it was removed quickly and expedient field dressings were applied on that fateful day… and for weeks after the battle, he walked around doing everything one-handedly… To everyone’s surprise, he was helping where he could, staying busy, seemingly unharmed from battle… but somewhere along the healing timeline, the wound got infected… and while Tristan, the worse of the three wounded was recovering considerably well, while his comrade got worse.

Now Lancelot lay in a straw bed, the fever keeping him unfocused and confused. Sight and sounds were magnified and distorted, contorting faces and simple sounds into eerie fermentations of one’s fears… The fever would ebb and tide with efforts of the physicians… when it would finally break, the man would return to normal but tired from the emotional stress and illness… only to have it return with a vengeance. How long could he endure the fevered delirium without permanent damage?

“Lancelot... its Guinevere... can ye ‘ear me? …. Everything is alright now... I promise everything is fine… Sleep Lancelot... rest so ye can get well... ye must get well.”

The caregivers would not have to tie him down, as from the depths of his fevered mind came a voice… like a light in the darkness drawing him toward it… Had his gods finally granted him peace?

He wouldn't be quite granted peace as of yet. No, she couldn't let him slip away totally. Goodness be, if the Gods took him she would have to make them beg forgiveness and spit his soul back out into his body again before anyone besides her could notice! She definitely wasn't about to allow him to dare think PEACE was in his reach just yet. He could have all eternity in the heavens when he got there… he could SO withstand a few dozen years longer on the mortal coil that was Earth!

Guinevere would take over the care of the knights if she could, to an extend she did. Making sure that they were getting the extent of care which she believed to be the best possible at that current point in time. She would be running between Lancelot’s bedside and soon to Arthur’s side to see if she could be of any help. Though she honestly wondered what he would think of her given her current state. She looked... rather pretty, despite her stress. How she could pause and wonder what he would think of her was anyone's guess including her own. She knew it wasn't a good time to be thinking of such things... but... Perhaps with the battle over and the knights at least in one piece Arthur would show her more of who he truly was. He seemed always preoccupied in thought before... Perhaps now was a good time to get to know him a bit.

Since well his knights were incapacitated... they were always needing him for something. At the moment she was his main go-between when it came to her father... so they would have plenty of time to speak... Why was it that this idea made a slight blush come to her cheeks?

A voice, so soft and genteel, was heard in the background of his nightmares… Was it an angel coming to take him home? Nay, twas Guinevere… Was it her hand upon his arm? Surely the gods would grant him serenity… if not in the afterlife, then here upon the Earth… And as his mind realized it was she and not the gods, something semblance to a smile crossed his face…

The eyelids stuttered open, and there, for a moment, was a figure, blurry, and shadowy from the fevered mind… But as the fever miraculously cooled, his visions became clearer… The shape did not appear to be the Guinevere he knew, no longer were her hair matted, her eyes dark; and the semblance of the smile formulated into a grin…

The shadow behind grew as he walked up behind her. Arthur had just completed his rounds of the fort, and was now wandering thru the tents and buildings housing the wounded and invalids… saving his time for visiting Lancelot for last.

Standing next to the woman, he looked down at his best friend and smiled seeing him finally awake and at least a bit coherent. “Greetings Lancelot… I am glad to see you better… I have prayed to God every day for your health.” Then his hand went to the woman’s shoulder… “Thanks be to you M’Lady for caring for the brave knights…” and lightly squeezed her shoulder…

Lancelot lay upon the bed, the sweat from the fever beaded upon his head. Twas always a good sign for sweat, as the fever had once more broken. The man was not use to being lain in bed for days, twas not his nature, nor habit, and as best friend came to visit he smiled as he looked up when the Commander spoke…

“Talk to your God, say your prayers for what they are worth to comfort you, M’Lord…. But I place my faith in M’lady…” and his dark eyes veered from his Commander to the woman who had her back to Arthur.

Lancelot could not help to smile at the pair, for Lancelot noticed the slight change is her looks and posture, but apparently Arthur had not. Lancelot would notice her anywhere…

No longer did she match Lancelot in dark hair color and mood… no longer was she the painted Pict warrior, dark and embattled… The caterpillar had turned into a beautiful butterfly… Across the room, a healer bumped into a table and spilled the contents because he was too busy looking at the new butterfly… none in the fort had seen the true Guinevere…

Lancelot looked between the two… quirked his lip a bit in a twinge of… well, maybe jealousy… and looked at her, then his Commander. He had spent much time with Guinevere since their fortuitous meeting months ago and they had developed an odd relationship… It was he who found her in the Roman dungeon, not Arthur… the Commander had paid the Pict woman little attention back then…

Arthur cleared his throat… “Ummm, Guinevere… I… ahh…” he canted his head and smiled… “I did not realize the… ummm… changes…”

Lancelot laughed… “What my fearless Commander is trying to say, is that you look stunning… and the pleasant appearance besettles you…” then he smirked and glanced briefly to Arthur who shot him a look of a thousand curses…

“Yes M’Lady… yu do look different, if a good way…” and he gave her that charming smile.

“Since I was nae 'urt I could not see why I shouldn't be 'elpin those who ‘elped us…"

“Yes and yu are helping very much… and we are in deep gratitude…” But what he did not tell her if how he felt… oddly enough, he was attracted to her.

She looked to Lancelot first, seeing he wasn't as out of sorts as when she first arrived. Her head canting to the side and one hand tucking some of those bright locks behind her ear. "Iffin ye do not hurry and get well, I will be forced to beat you to a bloody pulp once ye are better- just for aggravating me so. Mind you that will be rather counterproductive given I will then 'ave tae take care of you again, but it would be worth it."

She gave him a little bit of a smirk as if to tell him she was teasing... well sort of. She enjoyed Lancelot's company and overall liked him more than the others. Perhaps because he did pay attention to her, or perhaps because it was he who saved her. Turning her attention to Arthur with a light laugh at his rather obvious fumbling due to her identity. "Lancelot wasn't shocked. I may look a bit different... though if you prefer I can always use that infernal dye again and change the color back. If it tis too much a distraction for you."

Yes she was teasing him, it was odd how different things were now. The truth of the matter was she was attracted to both men to an extent. However, it was Lancelot that caught her eye a little more than Arthur. This was no doubt due to the odd sort of relationship they had. Though Lancelot didn't seem to return her interest, or Guinevere just didn't notice perhaps? Quite honestly this little display from the commander was the first obvious thing she could chalk up to being because he was attracted to her.

Icy eyes came to look at Lancelot again, her hand drifting to his forehead. She frowned and would lean down and moving her hair back so she could put her hand to her own forehead and brushing his bangs away from his forehead with the other. Comparing the temperature that way. "Ye are still warm. Luckily ye just as stubborn as yer fever is."

She would give him quite the lovely smile as she remained close to him for a moment, her eyes meeting his and him getting to see how very bright they indeed were. Though it was short lived, a she would soon be standing again, the softness of her hand leaving Lancelot. "Seems tae me yeh will 'ave yer knight back in tip top condition soon enough... if he allows the poor souls trying to take care of him to do their jobs."

Thank the Gods that his fever had broken… at least the nightmares would go away… and to awaken with Guinevere at bedside… The beard upon his face crinkled as he smiled and closed his eyes filing that beautiful face of her to memory. He opened his dark eyes once more and smiled again. “My dearest Guinevere… not only do I have your sword to thank, but your beauty as well… twas worth being ill, to have awaken with such in sight…” Then he winked, angling his head toward Arthur…

He had listened to Lancelot… it was apparent that the Sarmatian knight liked this Pict woman, and even though it was he who found her, it was Arthur who chose not to imprison her as his enemy, but to allow this Pict to remain free, those many months ago… “Nay M’Lady… the dye shant be necessary… but if I may, I shall enjoy the distraction…” Arthur smiled and looked at Lancelot… then back to Guinevere… “Do not let the shirker lay here too long… he is needed back at work…” then he winked at Lancelot and looked at Guinevere… “If he is able, supper will be served at the usual time and place… and you are invited as well M’Lady…”

Lancelot felt his head and lay back down… “I feel not good M’Lord… I shall remain here a bit longer…” then he chuckled and turned on his side away from them.

She was disappointed that Lancelot wasn't going to attend. Though grateful to be invited by Arthur all in the same turn. Her hand would idly go to touch Lancelot's arm in a reassuring manner before she would take a step toward Arthur; her voice holding a soft elegance to it. "I am sure 'e will be fine. Lancelot isn't the type to be felled so easily." Even if the wound was not something easily managed, she held a confidence in her voice which just showed how much she believed in the man lying on the bed. "We should let him rest for now."

She turned to look to Lancelot over her shoulder. "If yeh give the others any problems I will return and trash yer 'ide." It was a threat, promise, and perhaps a little bit of a tease as she would go with Arthur. Walking beside him her mind idly lingered on the thought of which man she would honestly like to walk beside in life. The commander, or the man who seemed so gentle with her from the beginning. Both seemed to enjoy her company more than was common, and yet neither really told her so. If things continued she might just make her own mind up about it and pick one to pursue.

Silently, he retained his thoughts as his own regarding Lancelot’s staying behind and his pretended weakness. “I am sure he isn’t… but with women here in the infirmary, tis best he be put back to work, even if it is light duty…” then Arthur chuckled.

Lancelot rolled over and looked at Guinevere with a smirk. Seeing Arthur’s back was to him, Lancelot gave her a nod, a smile, and blinked his eyes in approval; then laid flat on his back as a healer walked to him to test his forehead. The flirt looked up at the girl and smiled…

Arthur, oblivious to Lancelot’s antics behind his back, would have thought a match was being suggested and approved, had he seen what was relayed between the pair.

And the Commander, with so much upon his mind, now took time for her. And momentarily, he reflected back upon the day they had rescued Guinevere… It was as if he could smell the musk smell of the dungeon and it sent chills upon his spine. To know that had it not been for his urgence to investigate Marius Honorius’ dungeon, Lancelot would have never found her… nor Dag finding Lucan… And now, she represented her Father by being a Pict liaison here at the fort.

He smiled at her as they walked from the infirmary… the reason would be unknown to her… but to him, he would enjoy their time together. Arthur was not shy when it came to the female gender… but this woman… she was different… and he was attracted…

The walk was slow, calculated, and enjoyable. Their walk was accompanied by small talk… nothing of importance… nothing about themselves… Could these two actually say what, and how, they feel? Was Arthur so blind to the ways of personal life, or was being the Roman Commander of the Sarmatian Cavalry all too consumptive?

Lancelot, considered a slave by Roman standard, was actually the free one of the two… He had a duty to Rome… he fought wars and lived the life he had, though restricted by location… He enjoyed his life, despite that he had lost Evaine many years ago… But Arthur… he was in social purgatory... half Roman… half Briton… and he had not even attempted to live his life as a Briton. This duty to Rome, his Command… the legacy of his Fathers before him… this was his enslavement.

He smiled at Guinevere as they entered the dining hall… On the far side of the room, stood Bors, who nudged his fellow knights. The whispers between them unheard by Arthur or Guinevere.

As far as Lancelot was concerned she rolled her eyes as he began his flirtation with the care taker. A little jealousy panged within her mind and she would choose to ignore it. If he wished to flirt with others that-- was none of her concern right? She was perhaps a little knowing of how he was in all honesty, since her arm would slip into Arthur's own, allowing him to guide the way. Also giving them the opportunity to touch, however brief and light the touch might have been. Giving him the softest of smile as she looked to him.

"Mayhap you would like to go ridin’ with me in the future. The land has many attributes I'm sure yeh will find lovely." She said this right before they went into the dining hall. Almost as if she could tease him with the prospect of spending time alone with her. Her eyes would shift to gaze upon the other knights and she offered them one of her gentlest smiles. Indeed for someone who could best most here with her skills in weaponry, she could at least ... look the part of a lady when she so desired it.

In the months since the dungeon, he had seen this woman come and go in the fort, and even since the battle of the Mons, she had tended the wounded, filled water barrels, and emptied human waste cisterns… and yet, she had always offered him a smile when they crossed paths… and this was the first time he had given her even a moment of his time… and guilt seemed to envelope his body and mind… especially when her arm seemed to snake about his… and his automatic manly guidance of their path when his elbow tucked to his side as her hand settled upon his arm.

It was only when they neared the door of the dining hall, that he looked closely at her… to see the redness of her hair and the true blue of her eyes… His free hand reaching out to pull open the door… and all the worries of command seem to filter away… and he offered her a proper smile, not one of protocol, but of emotion…

“Riding with you…? That would be grand M’Lady…” as he held open the door for her… and added a slight bow and sweep of the hand… “After you…” He had seen the land… and what he had seen was beautiful… except danger lurked at every valley, open area, and dale… As they walked into the dining hall, all eyes were upon them… but their attention was upon one another… for now.

Lancelot was a flirt, and while some women might acknowledge his efforts for attention by getting visibly jealous--that first bit of annoyance was all he would be able to claim, and it certainly wasn't enough to prove she had feelings for him. Though it was quite possible that with his flirtations to the other woman he had just pressed her attention closer to Arthur.

"I look forward to it then." She said in a soft tone, meant to escape the ears of the others as she looked to him. The lowering of her voice was almost suggestive in a manner, but the expression on her soft features was far from it. She looked rather angelic at times-- as if she had no impure thought in her mind at any time. Perhaps he was just imagining that her voice for those few words had become almost sultry.

She would be the first to admit that this experience had not been the most enjoyable, from being put into that prison to rot, to now feeling at times like nursemaid--she had her fair share of tasks that were less than lady-like. Let us not forget those instances where she fought alongside the men. Indeed she had done her utmost to repay the men for saving her life.

While Arthur hadn't paid much attention to her, she still found that on occasion she was attracted to the slivers of emotion he showed. While she hadn't really gained his attention much before this moment, she was eager to learn more about him if time remained on their side.

For now she would play the part of his lady companion. Within the dining hall she was quiet, graceful, and gentle. When she did have to speak. Her laugh was light, and her posture perfect, as was proper for a lady. While she was far from raised in a proper environment, and had a will that was stronger than most men at times, it seemed she rather easily could put on an air of femininity that without her knowing it resembled that of a proper lady in court.

What she thought polite, others might see as proper. However she was not as frigid as a lady in court. At one point in the meal her hand reached to touch Arthur’s arm again, as her eyes lifted to find his. Her expression was encouraging in a manner. With that soft smile she told him she was enjoying herself, and with her gentle touch she silently tried to remind that he should be enjoying himself as well. It was all too often he allowed himself to become serious and dark when in the presence of a crowd. She surmised if left to his own thoughts his mind would surly leave the spirited room and go deep within some unknown cavern of thought.

He had always been jealous of Lancelot… for he was more of a free soul. Though the man was considered a slave by Roman standards, Arthur thought the man was often freer than he. His outlook on life seemed brighter. What he did not know was Lancelot was dark inside… often pushed to the brink of no return…

He escorted Guinevere into the Hall… and all eyes were upon them… and she handled herself at Court much better than he, or anyone else, would have expected. In the mix of Roman and Briton, it was easy for the arrogance to consider her the Cavalry Commander’s wench, instead of his guest. Stride for stride, the pair walked slowly across the floor, to take the place at the table. Servants rushed around placing food strategically on the table… others poured wine in routine, or at the behest of an empty goblet.

With a nod and a smile, he greeted person after person until he helped Guinevere into a chair, then sat beside her.

As he sat down, he leaned to her, taking her hand and whispering… “Are you nervous?” Then he smiled and kissed her hand… and leaned back as if nothing had happened.

“Hear ye Hear ye…” as he stood up, banging his dagger to the brass goblet… “Old friends… New friends… Comrades… brothers at arms…” He looked around the room at the people gathered. “We have been thru much together… and as a new neighbors, with the passing of Rome from our midst… we forge ahead on our own legs… under our own standard… No longer bound to the Eagle…” Again he looked upon those present… especially to Bors and Galahad, his most outspoken ones… “In the days ahead, I shall meet with Merlin… to propose a lifetime accord between our people… then I shall meet with the Saxon King, Cedric, and ask for his treaty…” and he watched the reactions…

Arthur continued to talk about the future… No one wanted to discuss the twelve battles… nor the victory at Mons Badonicus… No one knew the future… But Arthur had a vision for the future… They had land… they had food and water… they had one another… but most of all, they had their freedom… and everyone… even down to the last man, woman, and youth… was ready to die for their freedom. Such a power that is… and Arthur knew it… This was their future…

“M’Lords… M’Ladies… I shant keep thee longer… Eat… Drink…” Then he sat down, taking her hand once more, kissing the back again. He smiled, released her hand, visually bidding her to partake in the meal.

To the Hall

Arthur and Guinevere
Camelot
late Augustus - early September 465AD

Lancelot looked between the two… quirked his lip a bit in a twinge of… well… maybe jealousy… and looked at her, then his Commander. He had spent much time with Guinevere since their fortuitous meeting months ago and they had developed an odd, unexplored, platonic relationship… It was he who found her in the Roman dungeon, not Arthur… the Commander had paid the Pict woman little attention back then…

And the Commander, with so much upon his mind, now took time for her. And momentarily, she reflected back upon the day they had rescued her… It was as if she could smell the musk smell of the dungeon and it sent chills upon his spine. To know that had it not been for his urgence to investigate Marius Honorius’ dungeon, Lancelot would have never found her… nor Dag finding Lucan… And now, she represented her Father by being a liaison here at the fort. But was it more than that?

Arthur smiled at her as they walked from the infirmary… the reason would be unknown to her… but to him, he would enjoy their time together. He was not shy when it came to the female gender… but this woman… she was different… and he was attracted…

Their walk was slow, calculated, and enjoyable… accompanied by small talk; truly nothing of importance… nothing about themselves… Could these two actually say what, and how, they feel? Was Arthur so blind to the ways of personal life, or was being the Roman Commander of the Sarmatian Cavalry all too consumptive?

"Mayhap you would like to go ridin’ with me in the future. The land has many attributes I'm sure yeh will find lovely." She said this right before they went into the dining hall. Almost as if she could tease him with the prospect of spending time alone with her. Her eyes would shift to gaze upon the other knights and she offered them one of her gentlest smiles. Indeed for someone who could best most here with her skills in weaponry, she could at least ... look the part of a lady when she so desired it.

In the months since the dungeon, he had seen this woman come and go in the fort, and even since the battle of the Mons, she had tended the wounded, filled water barrels, and emptied human waste cisterns… and yet, she had always offered him a smile when they crossed paths… and this was the first time he had given her, even a moment of his time… and guilt seemed to envelope his body and mind… especially when her arm seemed to snake about his… and his automatic manly guidance of their path when his elbow tucked to his side as her hand settled upon his arm.

It was only when they neared the door of the dining hall, that he looked closely at her… to see the redness of her hair and the true blue of her eyes… His free hand reaching out to pull open the door… and all the worries of command seem to filter away… and he offered her a proper smile, not one of protocol, but of emotion…

“Riding with you…? That would be grand M’Lady…” as he held open the door for her… and added a slight bow and sweep of the hand… “After you…” He had seen the land… and what he had seen was beautiful… except danger lurked at every valley, open area, and dale… As they walked into the dining hall, all eyes were upon them… but their attention was upon one another… for now.

"I look forward to it then." She said in a soft tone, meant to escape the ears of the others as she looked to him. The lowering of her voice was almost suggestive in a manner, but the expression on her soft features was far from it. She looked rather angelic at times-- as if she had no impure thought in her mind at any time. Perhaps he was just imagining that her voice for those few words had become almost sultry.

She would be the first to admit that this experience had not been the most enjoyable, from being put into that prison to rot, to now feeling at times like nursemaid--she had her fair share of tasks that were less than lady-like. Let us not forget those instances where she fought alongside the men. Indeed she had done her utmost to repay the men for saving her life.

While Arthur hadn't paid much attention to her, she still found that on occasion she was attracted to the slivers of emotion he showed. While she hadn't really gained his attention much before this moment, she was eager to learn more about him if time remained on their side.

Arthur had been in social purgatory... half Roman… half Briton… and he had not even attempted to live his life as a Briton. The duty to Rome, his Command… the legacy of his Fathers before him… this was once his enslavement. But now? He was free… in a sense… and he smiled at Guinevere as they entered the dining hall… On the far side of the room, stood Bors, who nudged his fellow knights. The whispers between them unheard by Arthur or Guinevere.

For now she would play the part of his lady companion. Within the dining hall she was quiet, graceful, and gentle. When she did have to speak. Her laugh was light, and her posture perfect, as was proper for a lady. While she was far from raised in a proper environment, and had a will that was stronger than most men at times, it seemed she rather easily could put on an air of femininity that without her knowing it resembled that of a proper lady in court.

What she thought polite, others might see as proper. However she was not as frigid as a lady in court. At one point in the meal her hand reached to touch Arthur’s arm again, as her eyes lifted to find his. Her expression was encouraging in a manner. With that soft smile she told him she was enjoying herself, and with her gentle touch she silently tried to remind that he should be enjoying himself as well. It was all too often he allowed himself to become serious and dark when in the presence of a crowd. She surmised if left to his own thoughts his mind would surly leave the spirited room and go deep within some unknown cavern of thought.

He escorted Guinevere into the Hall… and all eyes were upon them… and she handled herself at Court much better than he, or anyone else, would have expected. In the mix of Roman and Briton, it was easy for the arrogance to consider her the Cavalry Commander’s wench, instead of his guest. Stride for stride, the pair walked slowly across the floor, to take the place at the table. Servants rushed around placing food strategically on the table… others poured wine in routine, or at the behest of an empty goblet.

With a nod and a smile, he greeted person after person until he helped Guinevere into a chair, then sat beside her. Who knew, in less than 5 years, they would again sit at the very table again… as King and Queen of a new Nation ?? !!

“Hear ye Hear ye…” as he stood up, banging his dagger to the brass goblet… “Old friends… New friends… Comrades… brothers at arms…” He looked around the room at the people gathered. “We have been thru much together… and as a new neighbors, with the passing of Rome from our midst… we forge ahead on our own legs… under our own standard… No longer bound to the Eagle…” Again he looked upon those present… especially to Bors and Galahad, his most outspoken ones… “In the days ahead, I shall meet with Merlin… to propose a lifetime accord between our people… then I shall meet with the Saxon King, Cedric, and ask for his treaty…” and he watched the reactions…

Arthur continued to talk about the future… No one wanted to discuss the twelve battles… nor the victory at Mons Badonicus… No one knew the future… But Arthur had a vision for the future… They had land… they had food and water… they had one another… but most of all, they had their freedom… and everyone… even down to the last man, woman, and youth… was ready to die for their freedom. Such a power that is… and Arthur knew it… This was their future… and he looked to Guinevere and smiled… then he looked to the crowd…

“M’Lords… M’Ladies… I shant keep thee longer… Eat… Drink…” Then he sat down, taking her hand once more, kissing the back again. He smiled, released her hand, visually bidding her to partake in the meal. Realizing what he did so absentmindedly, he blushed. Blushed! The Commander actually blushed. Would others notice?

The Meal

Arthur and Guinevere
Camelot
late Augustus - early September 465AD

Guinevere did notice the change in the Commander's face, mainly because she was privy to all his features and expressions. It did not take long to understand the Commander, and to memorize what he did present for all to see. He was a simple man with complex ideals. His strength came from those around him, and their strength came from him. What good would a leader be if he allowed his subordinates to see weakness behind a confused expression? Arthur had earned the trust of everyone around him, and he had earned Guinevere's attention. Guinevere did not think she was made of the same strength as Arthur; her strength came from other facets which, until now, had gone unnoticed by the Commander.

This wasn't a matter for which she took offense, Guinevere was an understanding soul and she retained a wisdom beyond her years. The Commander had much more important matters to discuss with strong Knights, defenses to bolster, or men to move. These days left little time for the mundane chase. Of course, Guinevere had gone out on a limb to suggest they go riding together, but her motive was still hidden, even to herself.

She had been silent while he spoke of country and people, just like he was a King… yet he was simply a commander of a militia now… and yet, she patiently waited for his acknowledgement of her. And when he was finished, he took his place beside her, for she was his companion for the evening… He felt odd when she looked at him, as if she took in every feature of his face… as if she peered into his soul. Did the daughter of Merlin have such powers? Could she see his soul?

Guinevere, daughter of Merlin… She had learned so much of the man named Arthur, and his feats, from her Father… the Pict leader… a man considered by some as a shaman, or sorcerer… something of legend and myth... and she of his blood. Now she sat next to Arthur. And the man who would become King, simply looked upon the new relationship with a smile.

Arthur was mesmerized by Guinevere… and SHE had asked HIM to go riding with HER… and he had accepted. She was bold in battle, and with him… and despite all the responsibility he held, he enjoyed her boldness.

Guinevere looked away from Arthur and acknowledged the meal before them. It looked well cooked, and the spices created a rich smell that made her mouth water. Still, there was that sound…

Guinevere looked around the room until she saw that a few of the men had taken to pulling their knives, using them to cut the meat. She watched one man stab the bird, and carve a large portion off for himself. Others ground their knives across plates, scraping loudly, and sending Guinevere back to another time entirely. The scraping on the plates created a sound she related to swords scraping against each other. To those watching her, Guinevere was silent and staring ahead, her eyes had glazed over, gleaming thanks to the nearby candle light.

He did not eat before her, but, in defiance of what was customary, he waited for her to eat. But alas, the Commander’s plan of chivalry was interrupted by a knight offering a toast to the fallen… those that secured the freedom of those remaining with their lives. Arthur stood, taking ale in hand and toasted with the other men; the women hefting their goblets while seated.

In the corner of his eye, he noticed the stare that Guinevere had… and the eyes that oddly gleamed. She had not partaken of the toast, and he soon sat down, his hand coveting hers. “M’Lady, are you alright?” and gave her a slight squeeze. His heart raced soundly in his chest, silently praying to God that she was well… for he surely cared for this woman.

She had missed the toast entirely, but those around had not noticed that something had ensnared her attention. Guinevere had retreated to a place in her mind she rarely traveled; it was a place which only haunted her in dreams, but suddenly she had allowed it to escape so everyone could see. The memories of war and horror flashed before her glazed eyes, but they fell away when she felt the warmth of a calloused hand upon hers, squeezing gently. Her mind turned toward a white, translucent veil from which Arthur's voice could be heard from the other side. When she passed through the veil, the ambiance of the meal returned, and Guinevere blinked several times to rid the dryness from her eyes only to find she was safely planted in reality.

When her eyes came to focus, they narrowed upon a concerned looking Arthur. Those around the table had went on with their meals. Guinevere managed to maintain her bearing, withdrawing from the overwhelming sensation to run. Instead, she smiled and nodded. "Yes, yes... I am fine. Sorry, I just got lost in thoughts," said softly, as to not draw any unwanted attention from those who would gawk. Guinevere's hand was cold, and though she enjoyed the sensation his touch brought, she reluctantly pulled her hand away to return to the meal.

Her first approach to the meal began with the wine which sat just in front of her. She reached for the glass and pulled it close, peering inside it. Her first thought was how closely it resembled blood, which drew her gaze up to watch as others drank, staining the corners of their mouth with red. Some of the men attending even allowed their drinks to dribble onto their beards. Guinevere closed her eyes and brought her glass up, tempting a taste to thwart the thoughts clouding her mind tonight.

Despite her reluctance, the wine was very good. She swallowed a generous amount before setting her cup aside to look her meal over, then begin.

The Stroll

Arthur and Guinevere
Camelot
late Augustus - early September 465AD

Had the man been apart from the gentler sex too long not to notice something was bothering her? Could he trust his intuition, even with women, and despite her saying she was alright? Had war done its damage, despite the strength, skill, and courage she had demonstrated upon a field of battle? The questions rattled inside his brain as he sat there looking at her while she ate; it appeared to him that, in her own mind, she was all alone…

He did not know how to approach her. And it seemed that the meal went on forever… her dainty picking at the meal; but she finally pushed her plate away. There it was, the time for an excuse. He turned to her and smiled… “M’Lady, would you grant me the honor of your company? I am in need of a walk…” he smiled… “Mind, you, a short stroll…” There, he had asked her to walk alone with him… Would the Lady accept? A silent pray crept thru his mind.

Guinevere looked up after pushing her plate forward, and by chance, she saw that Arthur had wished to grab her attention. She looked up to him, narrowing her eyes to watch his lips as he spoke. Guinevere didn't have a hearing issue; she had just grown up watching people speak. Over time, she developed a unique trait to depict what people were saying from a distance, but sometimes, her translations were not very accurate.

"A walk?" Guinevere squashed the urge to answer his question with one of her own; instead she straightened and nodded her head. "I think a walk would be lovely." She provided an attractive smile, and stood from her seat. Even the most mundane of motions were made to look graceful, granting Guinevere with a purposeful image; she moved as if each motion was practiced and carefully thought out before; such grace could not be taught.

He rose from the chair and extended his hand to her, just as a servant came and pulled her chair slowly back as she rose. Arthur thanked the servant… for the servants were just that, not slaves… then turned his attention to her as he offered her his arm. Looking to the people gathered, he spoke. “So much good food, I have eaten too much… the Lady is escorting me for a walk…” and with that came the heckling in jest… Vanora smacked Bors’ arm, and shook her finger, not allowing the man any opportunity to comment. Arthur responded in turn. “Continue the merriment… eat drink my friends…” and the pair walked slowly, in tune with one another as if they were made by God for this.

She reached for Arthur's arm, and matched his pace. Her eyes were trained ahead, and her expression content. When they escaped the prying ears of those around them, she turned her gaze toward him, admiring the features of his strong expression and handsome looks. "Have you something troubling your mind?"

Across the large hall, out the door, opened by a guard and into the courtyard they strolled. He spent more time looking at her than where he was walking, but he neither stumbled, nor tripped. All these months they had been in such close proximity and he never realized how beautiful she truly was, and how dignified her every action was. Removing his cape, he wrapped it around her shoulders in case the autumn chill would be too much for her.

But that gesture would be more symbolizing than requirement because of her being Pict, adapted to the harsh temperatures of Britain… but Arthur was a bit confused as to where she learned about her gracious, well-timed manners and actions, much unlike those savage manners of the Picts he was used to. It could have been from her earlier days at the estate of Marius Honorius, but those days are a mystery, having never spoken of them due to the circumstances of her torture.

Still, despite any maladies of the days prior, she was here, next to him, and he inhaled, the chilled air of pride. Had Merlin put a spell upon him? Doubtful. Regardless, he enjoyed her presence… her soft melodic voice, the accent in her speech, her brown doe eyes as she looked at him. Everything…Then she questioned him. He gave her that odd quirk of a smile… “Nay M’Lady… nothing troubling me…” then he paused in his step and turned to her. “But, I must tell you the joy you bring with your presence. I truly enjoy you here at Camelot. And verily, I pray yu stay for a while… even to take residence in the wing close by.” And an unseen reddish tint was sure to cover his face, but he could feel the heat of blush.

He remembered the days of, and since, her discovery… Her watery eyes as he pushed her elongated fingers back into place… her pleasured smile as she sat in the wagon covered by black fur for warmth… the fierce look in her eyes on the fields of battle… the blood of Lancelot on her arms as she held him… the months of her smiles offered him upon his visits with Lancelot in the infirmary. He remembered the months he had seen her come and go in the fort and here at Camelot where she tended the wounded, filled water barrels, and emptied human waste cisterns… and yet, she had always offered him a smile when they crossed paths…

AG2

Mainly Arthur and Guinevere; secondly many others
Hadrian’s Wall
September 465 AD

NOTE: This is a brief story of cause and effect... scenes from when Arthur married Guinevere... to the sordid affair between Lancelot and Guinevere... thru the months of Arthur's embattled mental state and the downward spiral of the Nation... to how the Knights convinced Arthur that forgiveness would heal not only his mind and heart, but the Nation... and on to the private lives of Arthur and Guinevere attempting to renew a land... and a relationship... The Rest would be history.

Arthur’s elite armored cavalry, and his allied Picts, Woads as some preferred to call them, defeated the Saxons in twelve engagements, culminating in the decisive battle of Mons Badonicus. That climactic battle, the "Battle of Badon Hill" just south of the then-abandoned Hadrian's Wall, allowed Arthur and his men a secured place to call their own.

After the victory, Arthur and his Knights, Guinevere, and Merlin, promise to lead the Britons, united with the defeat of the Saxons and retreat of the Romans, against future invaders.

Several months following the battle of Mons Badonicus; months since Tristan and Lancelot had been left unable to wield his sword without pain or trouble; months since Tristan had woken up in that infirmary, his torso, leg and arm bandaged heavily. Many thought the pathfinder dead, but being rushed back to camp would find the Sarmatian scout with injuries that had left him bed-ridden for many long and arduous weeks.

And Lancelot, his dark moods bringing his caregivers to fits… The crossbow bolt that pierced his shoulder missed all vital arteries, yet torn ligaments that controlled his dominant sword arm. His worst enemy was the fever that had set in… fever that rendered him unconscious to wander fields of fevered delirium…allowing his past to finally catch up.

Dagonet, the knight who had nearly died on the ice lake to save them all, tended to both now… the only one to ably manage both men. And the discussions that had been that of how not only he and Bors would be staying in Briton, but that the Galahad and Gawain as well. They were staying on to help Arthur build and restore the country and hopefully settle the disputes and matters of state.

Each knight had been given a certain part of the land in which to protect and they did so using their tactics and wits to ensure that each of their regions were secure and peaceful, not only within themselves but also those surrounding them. Notably, for reasons known only to Lancelot and his Commander, Arthur gave the Lake and the Pass to Lancelot to protect… and offered Dagonet his own land, but he denied ownership to second Bors. It was because of that Arthur swore an oath to Dagonet, that Lucan, his adopted son and rightful heir, would have a place at the Round Table when he was of age… and more men were honored by places at the Table… to rebuild…

They had almost grown up together… Had it been fifteen years already? Fifteen years of their lives had been spent serving Rome… Battle after battle, ride after ride, Lancelot had ridden beside and behind Arthur… Ever loyal despite the altercation or the reason there of… Whatever the foundation, or the reason, for his loyalty, Lancelot found it steadfast… Of course, Lancelot knew Arthur was not a God, but a man and cursed with mortal afflictions… and bound to make mistakes… and Lancelot was the balance… He was honorable, but wilder… though as a Sarmatian, he had been bound to Rome, yet he had been a freer spirit than Arthur, the freeman of Rome… Arthur had always spoken of God, and the freedom of Roman privilege… yet he and his brothers-in-arms had remained servants of Rome… and this in itself had fueled Lancelot’s hatred of the Romans.

But he had lain wounded upon a bed of straw…. His blood from the wound had stained the straw… It had not been from protecting Romans… or Roman land… but their land… It had been a battle of HIS choosing… and he was surprised NOT to have died that day… But, he figured Arthur’s God, or his pagan gods had thought him better suited to remain at Arthur’s side…

The bolt to Lancelot’s shoulder caused some damage… but it was removed quickly and expedient field dressings were applied on that fateful day… and for weeks after the battle, he walked around doing everything one-handedly… To everyone’s surprise, he was helping where he could, staying busy, seemingly unharmed from battle… but somewhere along the healing timeline, the wound got infected… and while Tristan, the worse of the three wounded was recovering considerably well, while his comrade got worse. But Guinevere stayed with Lancelot all thru the fevered pitches of infection… ever present to care for him. Eventually, he recovered…

Dagonet’s wounds had healed well, despite the multiple hits, him, once more, being in reasonably good shape. He had been wounded weeks before the battle, and he jokingly accounts for his quick recovery, despite the ferocity of his wounds, to the gods of Sarmatia, and how they did not want him to be with them in paradise… so they gave him extraordinary powers to stay upon the Earth… And each time Dag tells that story, Bors begins rebuking it by saying the gods were punishing him by keeping Dag upon the Earth with him… And those listening cannot help but laugh with each version of the story.

But after the battle, the young scout, Tristan, had been in much worse shape. All had feared for his life, and Arthur had ordered any, and all, physicians to focus every effort to Tristan. His sword arm would be lucky to even be able to keep the arm, much less use it… and the right leg, where the injury to the thigh had damaged the nerves and left his leg immobilized. Luckily the Saxon had not struck a higher and deeper body part.

As time passed, Tristan still walks with a slight limp, and his arm pains him most of the time… And he remains sullen, though the feelings of uselessness have passed… In order to combat the uselessness, Arthur had ordered Tristan to begin instructing new recruits in tracking, scouting, and use of the bow… Not only to replenish his depleted forces, but to keep the Sarmatian scout occupied. And now that tactic had paid off. Tristan was chief of scouts with 10 to lead and train, seven men and three women.

Now, there had been a Council summoned at Hadrian’s Wall between Arthur, his healing knights, Merlin, Guinevere, the Xiomara, and the remaining Pict ruling members. And at this council, Merlin spoke of beginnings, new beginnings that benefited all… Agreements and concessions that would need to be managed, and required uniformity amongst the united peoples of Britannia… And lastly, he would introduce some of the representatives from the Pict Nation to Camelot… and Arthur would re-introduce his knights, and introduce new members who would represent the Briton… to include former Romans, who pledged loyalty to the new Britannia.

Arthur’s mystic green eyes would look at those present, all had focused in on Merlin as he spoke again… with one exception… a tall woman, presumably a Xiomara… He had seen her before; had it been during the battle? After? He could not remember… and he smiled back at her…

The moment their eyes met something inside of her burned vibrant to life. As if something foreign was born from the ash of despair and uncertainty. Arthur... She had heard his name throughout Britain as if he were a God. Now to find herself face to face with the man, she could only wonder if this moment was nothing more than a dream. His eyes were of steel. Steady and unwavering just as a heart raging inside of him was just as fierce and devoted. Never in her lifetime did she believe such a man existed. But Arthur wasn't just any man... He was the unity and the force.

She stood beside Merlin as he spoke quietly to the Commander. Then, when it was time for her to step forward, the tall Xiomara did so. Lightly bowing her head out of dutiful regard.

Each time this woman would look at him, he would smile back. And at one point, Guinevere nudged him, whispering… “Tis my half-sister, Alison…” and she briefly closed her eyes in silent acknowledgement.

She never once questioned nor doubted the cryptic mind that belonged to her father as they had made their way toward Hadrian's Wall. She had heard his name throughout Briton as if he were a God. Now to find herself directly in his line of view she actually did feel... Small. As if she were inside a dream. His eyes were of steel. Steady and unwavering just as she imagined them to be; however it was the hint of equality that beset his features when regarding Merlin that did surprise her. From everything she'd ever known, Roman Commanders were haughty and above the rest... But not him... So then, did he consider himself truly Briton? Never in her lifetime did she believe a man like him existed. But, then again Arthur wasn't just any man. He was to be the unity and the force that would unite them all.

The Xiomara stood directly at her father's left while the men lowly spoke. Then, when it was her turn to step into focus she dipped into curtsey and offered Arthur a gentile smile. Regal and poised it seemed almost shocking that she could also be a trained killer.

Arthur seemed to veer away from Lancelot and Guinevere to shake hands with Merlin… The negotiations may have seemed seamless and fairly easy, but agreeing on certain things and conceding on others was never easy. And all offered and counter-offered until agreements were formalized. And as the men shook hands, Merlin introduced his daughter… Guinevere’s half-sister… to Arthur.

The man bowed slightly, his green eyes never leaving her… “Well met M’Lady… My sincerest thanks to thy efforts in battle, and in peace…” he stood and faced her and Merlin… “I have dreamed of this the day after the battle… a nation as one, in peace. A home for all who desire peace and freedom…” And Merlin placed a firm hand upon Arthur’s shoulder. “Arthur…” he said in his usual manner… “I leave you in good hands…” and the elder man moved away.

"I am very pleased that we finally get to meet, Arthur. Perhaps one day your dream of peace will be observed by all." Rather or not she truly believed such a thing could ever happen her voice was magic… soft and smooth.

Arthur looked back to Guinevere, Lancelot, and the rest of the knights; who gave their approving nods… needless to say, Gawain would tease causing them to laugh softly. Arthur then refocused his attention to the woman. “M’Lady, Trust in my words when I say I shall make every attempt to secure peace… but alas, the first step has been taken…” he chuckled… “Now tis only to tell the people…” Oddly, it seemed that the pair had started walking and chatting… and soon found themselves away from the Council area.

Haunting pale green depths steadily took note of her half-sister as Guinevere reluctantly allowed Arthur to withdraw himself from her… A silent testament of victory plagued the elegance of her visage while maintaining her statuesque form beside her father. Council assembled and now she was left to her own defenses in front of the approaching commander.

Arthur and his knights had suffered much and it was incredible that they had all survived their injuries. Badon Hill wasn't just like any other battlefield. It was the pledge of new beginnings and promise. She watched Gawain, Galahad, Bors, Leon, and Tristan for a half-second and then pivoted upon a heel to allow Arthur the rightful claim of her whole attention. "You know you don't need to thank me." There was a hint of playfulness in her tone and, with a charming grin dotting the corners of her mouth she side stepped, tilted her head to the side and began following him along the twisted path; away from the rest of the council. The sway silk of her cloak draped just across the skim of the blades of grass beneath each of their tall forms. "We fight and live for these lands and to secure it from tyranny. Your plight, Arthur is our own" There was command in her gentle voice. She looked up at his side profile. Curiosity dancing itself across her features. "So yes... I do trust you... But more importantly my father believes in you. And..." She chuckled lightly… "So too does my sister."

“M’Lady, there are many to thank… and I shall start with you…” and he offered her a charming smile that tended to smirk a bit. They walked together, the usual thud of his boots softened by the grass… and as she spoke, he twisted his head abit to get a better look at her. “Yes, I know m’Lady… and I pray that we do not oust one tyrant for another…” he shook his head a bit. “I know not who will lead us as we join together Briton and Pict into a new nation… but whomever that person shall be, needs to realize, some of my men are Roman, and some Sarmatian… all who now vow and affirm their loyalty, and trust, to me, in the hopes of me providing a freedom they could not hope to get should they travel the breadth of the Roman Empire to return to a land they know not.” He chuckled a bit… “Ahhh, trust… such a thing that leadth one to such fates as in the dark corridors of man…”

There was a mysticism about Merlin… and that mysticism intrigued Arthur. It seemed the man knew him far more than realized. And the same air surrounded this woman as well… but she and Guinevere were so different… and so much the same… even to be half-sisters. Arthur thought the Pict ways were odd… particularly regarding family. Family was family, nothing was disregarded… He looked to Alison and smiled… his thoughts were his own.

If he truly wished to thank her than she wouldn't thwart him in his efforts nor would she offend him by mockery. Tall, poised and regal the Xiomara tilted her head while gradually steadying her gaze upon the man beside her. His smile was charming and infectious but she simply couldn't return the gesture. Lips tugged into the bloom of a grin.

When he twisted in front of her that gown gracefully swayed and settled along the length of her athletic body. Standing there but few inches beneath Arthur. "You, my Lord have little faith in what you already know to be true." She arched a brow. Forcing him to mull over those few words. "The people have already chosen their Commander... Their King. One who has the fortitude, wisdom, and strength to be so uncommonly selfless that he does understand religion, and customs can be meshed underneath one banner. This man will make us believe again in justice." She took a slow breath. The determination splashed against the contrast of her porcelain visage. Just as beautiful as she was she was equally as fierce. That, she did share in common with Guinevere.

He shook his head. “I seek no such crown… I obeyed a man in Rome blindly, just as my faith almost blinded me… I killed those that now are my allies…” he shook his head again. “I had neglected the fact that my Mother was Briton… only seeing the past events that killed her… and enacted vengeance against those actions against my own people.”

"Arthur do not question where others affirm their loyalty. It is free will that binds you to them and for that they live and die accomplished that they assisted one they believe in." Perhaps she spoke too far... That Arthur wouldn't welcome the compliments that she delivered so graciously and quickly.

The Commander looked at the woman. “I shall question no one’s loyalty who swears it to the new Nation. All I can do is pray that God allows each man… and woman… the graces of open eyes and guide my efforts…”

Unsure or Worthy of a Crown

Arthur looked at Guinevere and smiled… “How does M’Lady fare me as King?” and his coarse hand took hers in a gentlemanly manner and faced her. “Does M’Lady think I could lead a nation equally in Peace as well as War? Of which it may take both… or would the people be bored with me and eventually rebel?”

She should have been more prepared for Arthur to deny his claim for the crown. However that was not hers to grant him anyway. Yet his selflessness was appealing and won him the whole of her attention. Searching him with those passionate depths in her eyes.

"Leave the past exactly where it's meant to be set, Arthur, and have pride that your former enemy ally as friend. That they have proven themselves worthy of your grace." She tilted her head to the side when he smiled, claimed hold of her delicate hands and turned her to directly face him. Her thumbs affectionately stroked the hard base of his knuckles. Adoring his flesh with a lover's hold. "I fare you very well as King..."

"I believe you could lead a nation in both war and peace very well. You are a man of equality and the people will love you for it. But... if some ever did get bored... At least you should be confident that you are able to squelch raids without fail and quickly." After it was said, she pulled up his right hand and pressed her lips to the back of his hand. "I could never be bored with you, M'Lady..."

And he looked to their hands and smiled. She had been good to him, and caught his heart… and there Lancelot, his best friend and First Knight, stood beside her before Merlin and the Pict Council. He smiled… “I thank thee, M’Lady… your kind words provide me hope, that one day, our new freedom shall become a mainstay for the future…”

"Let us hope that your strength shall be recognized one day to the world." Her words were lighter now as she snatched herself away from the capture of their joined fingers.

Her blank expression caught him by surprise as he looked back to her. Guinevere apparently favored her mother more than anyone, as he would not even presumed Guinevere, and Merlin were related, even as they are. His strength? And with that said he smiled to her, a form of appreciation not often proffered… and she withdrew her hand… and if one looked close enough, a disfavorable glint would form in his eerie green eyes.

And now she was leaving him… much to his disfavor… “Yes M’Lady… tis well met between us… I too pray our paths cross again…” And he watched her walk away... He would remain where he was, looking out toward the stars as they became more visible… “Yes, dear God, show me the path I am to take…”

AG3

~ Arthur and Guinevere are Married ~

Arthur, Guinevere, Alison, Merlin and Others;
Stonehenge
Spring, 466 AD

Upon the 3rd day of Martius, All Roman governmental influence has vanished from Britannia and the people shall be united as one nation under a Council, with Arthur named Governor of Briton… and married to Guinevere.

The winter snows had gone, melted away… The birds and animals come from their hibernation to welcome the next cycle of life, now taking its turn. From the dark skies, now come the rains… once more cleansing the land of last fall’s bloodshed. And in the land of Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, and the Knights peace reigns… Arthur and Guinevere have formed a relationship that would appear steadfast and true… and the two of them, along with Merlin, Tristan, Gawain, and Lancelot, have been instrumental in talks of accord, attempting to unite the people.…

And now the agreements and concessions had been agreed to in order to forward, Merlin, the shaman and designated representative, was atop the Stone and was speaking to his people about the accomplishments in solidarity of the Picts, Caledonians, and western tribes into one nation against their enemy… and now, upon the accomplishments of Arthur forming one nation of the Briton against the Saxon invaders…

Merlin’s speech to the Pict Nation was powerful, though Arthur and his knights not fully understanding the language, could only imagine what Merlin spoke of. Until Merlin, surprisingly, began to articulate the same speech in the language of the Briton, leaving them in dismay, and looking at one another.

Once more, Arthur would scan the crowd, and with only a slight turn of his head he could see Picts, Britons, Romans, all gathered in one place where the erect stones formed a circle to hear an odd looking man… There were familiar faces, and faces of unknowns… men and women, and children intermingled within… all listening to Merlin.

He would take Guinevere’s hand and smile… their days of hiding their relationship, now revealed to all…

The befallen rain was perhaps an omen to the days of tribulation that was still yet upon the horizon for them all. Upon this particular occasion there within the heartland of the rocky terrain of towering relic, Arthur prepared to dedicate himself onto the young Guinevere. They listened carefully as the man spoke his motivating speech... Empowering the charge that would convince their kind to honor and respect this relationship…

Standing before Merlin, Arthur held Guinevere’s hand as the shaman spoke words for the coming future of the land… and focusing on what Merlin was saying, did not stop Arthur from noticing the looks upon the people's faces. He smiled, then refocused on Merlin.

Intermingled in the crowd were Arthur's great knights… Lancelot, Gawain, Galahad, Bors, Dagonet, Tristan, and Leon… Seven men, those remaining of Arthur’s 200 original Sarmatian knights, men who had already proven themselves to him... And this new nation, new army, new soldiers to battle the invaders. Now came the hour where others were called to the test of loyalty. Who would fail? Who would remain just? Time would be the verdict.

Guinevere’s hand in his, Arthur looked to the crowd… everyone knew they all would be travelling down a new path… but none truly knew the trials upon that path they would be taking. Arthur now remembered the men who could not see this day… and those, seven of them that remained… he smiled, knowing they were true of heart… Then he looked to Lancelot… the reason unknown; and his jaw shifted a bit.

Guinevere felt the warmth of Arthur's calloused hand upon the smaller surface of her own and, with a soft breath, her dark eyes reluctantly pulled from the protection of her father to observe Arthur, the man she loved. Much smaller in height in comparison to the others she reared up her face and forced a light smile at the corners of her mouth. Accepting the cup representing life, she would gently take a sip and then offer it up to Arthur. "With my life I vow to thee." Her words were soft and kind…

Arthur had refocused on Guinevere as she drank from the cup… then with calloused hands, he gently took the cup from her… his fingers caressing hers as he withdrew the cup from her… and with that charming smile, he took the cup to lips and drank deep. Then looking to her… “With my life, I vow to thee…” And he meant it by showing her in a kiss.

Then Merlin took the cup from the man… and spoke loudly, so all could hear. And it was the erect stones that seemed to echo the man’s words, so even all in the back could hear. “Arthur… For years, knights had fought and died for a land not their own. The world we all have known and fought for is ended. Now we must make a new world.” Merlin paused and looked directly at Arthur, pointing. “That sword you carry, Excalibur, is made of iron from this earth, forged in the fires of Britain. And on that day at Mons Badonicus, all who fought put our lives in service of a greater cause… Freedom…” He walked past Arthur and Guinevere, looking to the crowd… “Let every man, woman, child bear witness that from this day all Britons will be united in one common cause.” Then he looked to Arthur… then his daughter. “Arthur… Guin'vere... Our people are one. As you are.” Then he stepped to the side and presented the newly married couple to the crowd who began cheering.

Arthur held his new bride’s hand… and with his right, he drew the sword the people deemed a symbol, Excalibur, and held it high… and the people cheered. A new Nation was born… a man and woman was chosen to lead it… Soon he and his bride would leave Stonehenge and go to Camelot, their home.

"Let from this day forth all Briton is united in one common cause…"

Lancelot was proud to stand near his best friend and Arthur’s beloved bride… and Fate was upon his side to survive such brutal attack upon his body… and though it still pained him, he raised his sword high with the others, maybe even first after Arthur’s. And he looked to Dagonet, Tristan, Gawain, Galahad, Leon, and Bors… and he was glad to have the 7 of over 200 knights left to honor Arthur. But as First Knight, he knew it would befall him to train new knights… whether they be Briton, left-over Roman, or remaining Sarmatian… old heritage need not be discussed… and forward would they move as Knights of the Round Table. And last but not least, he would look to Arthur and smile… then to Guinevere, with eyes that yearned for days of old.

Standing there alongside her new husband, her right arm instinctively raised by the powerful urge of Arthur as together they raised the mighty sword into the sky. Merlin's words inspired her and actually coaxed thin lips to shift into a slow smile. The gesture almost shy compared to what all knew she was capable of.

When Arthur curled down she lifted upon her toes to softly return his kiss... nuzzling her cheek against the bridge of his nose but, upon rearing back those dark depths simply couldn't resist landing upon Lancelot who stood there at the foreground. Though her facial expression appeared indifferent, the stare she gave was curious and sententious.

"Look at all that you have already achieved, my love" She whispered and then lifted the silk of her gown to step over the stones and follow Arthur toward their new home... To begin her lesson as wife to this great man...

He was focused on her for moment… and the crowd the next… He knew beside him was his beloved new bride… the other, his most trusted knight, Lancelot… and together, they would ensure the safety of the new Nation… And at Guinevere’s words, he looked to her once more… “Tis nay I m’love… tis all of us… and we shall go forth and the land will prosper…” and he guided them to the carriage, for their return to Camelot.

While passing Lancelot, she whispered up at him… "I love him…" As if she felt the need to justify herself and her dedication to Arthur.

Were the words meant for his ears, or his subconscious mind?? Regardless, Lancelot heard them… and it was painful to the heart… but his brother-in-arms had chosen Guinevere above all others… Did Arthur not know he loved her as well…?? But alas, he was First Knight… and Arthur’s best and most trusted friend… How could he not know…?? moreso, he would not allow Arthur to be hurt, nor cast doubt upon the land’s new leader. He loved Arthur… and Guinevere… and friends they would remain.

AG4

Betrayal of the Hearts

Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, and Others;
Camelot
September, 466 AD

Life could not have been more pleasurable with Guinevere. She was pleasant to be around, serviant to Arthur in most ways, excellent in bed, and commanding at Court, as the Governess… But the Saxon bandits began to sack northern Briton villages. Arthur and his Knights had begun to spend more time at the Round Table planning and devising the downfall of Saxon aggression; whilst Guinevere spent her time, not doing womanly duties about their quarters, but managing the overall affairs of the castle.

One evening… nay early morn… whilst the pair enjoyed some light pillowtalk, Arthur smiles, his hand caresses her face and speaks softly… “M’Love, is the Xiomara still active, or have the women all married and having babies?”

As wife, Guinevere was finding herself falling into a pattern where she pleased her husband well and learned how to be happy. Her training with the Xiomara had become limited as well as her natural spirit for rebellious freedom. Yet this devotion to court and city life would only last for so long before that other side of her reappeared. When it came to dealing with the populous, she was somewhat viewed as young, arrogant, and naive. Somehow this wasn't what she'd been expecting. To be looked upon as a constant symbol of peace, unity and security. For a time it boosted her ego, but as of late she was inwardly feeling a bit uncomfortable and yes, insecure. But she did her best to hide it from her ever loving husband.

Now lain at his side, her legs curled forward underneath the tangled bedding so that she was staring up at him from a near upside down angle. His question drew a small smile at the mere thought. "I'm more than certain that the Xiomara is." "Some may have married... It is natural to wish for a family in time." Frail shoulders rolled up into a casual shrug. Honestly, she didn't know what the Xiomara had been up to. As unlikely as it sounded, some may have wed and carried weight of a child by now. Yet this made her wonder; made her regret that she was so ignorant to her own people's lives.

Arthur rolled to his back, looking up to the ceiling attempting to remember her sister. “I know not the Xiomara…” then his head rolled to the side looking at her. “My beloved Guinevere… would you, as the governess of this new land, go to Segedunum… Lancelot is stationed there… Try to convince the Xiomara in the area it would be wise to support his efforts there.” He shakes his head a bit. “I know they trust not the Romans that support Lancelot cavalry, but we need to infantry… and they do not consider themselves Romans any longer, as they have remained when they could have left, and have sworn their allegiance to Briton…”

Arthur smiled and looked to Guinevere… He loved her… she was good for him… and he trusted Lancelot with his life…

How could life be so cruel as to what would occur in the near future…, though none would ever dream such an atrocity COULD occur??

Lancelot and Guinevere
Segedunum Fort, Hadrian's Wall
September to November 466 AD

Here are the events that led to the adulterous affair between Guinevere and Lancelot.

To the Fort

The meeting with Alison had been... to say the least, strained. Sisters, by half… same father, different mothers... and vastly different lives. The elder Alison now headed the Xiomara... and the younger Guinevere, the wife of the Commander, the Leader of the Briton. The gulf between sisters was wider than ever, as Guinevere had sought out Alison... bringing with her Arthur’s wish for the Xiomara, to join with Lancelot’s men against the Saxon incursions into the land... for Britain...

Of course, the Picts, the ones who were always of this land... not only native, but tied to the land in spiritual ways that only they understood, were wary, skeptical of the New Ruler, Arthur... even though he had bound himself to Britain by honor and marriage... and none more so perhaps than Alison of her brother-in-law. Yet, Merlin believed in Arthur... and now so did Guinevere. Allison had agreed to give aid to the Soldiers at Segedunum Fort on the Wall... and Guinevere had left her sister with a look back into the mist... for it seemed the warrioress faded into it.

Now Guinevere rode thru the forest unaccompanied… dressed not as Arthur’s lady and wife... but as herself, as she had been before Arthur... dressed in fighting leathers. The day was chilled, but with no need of a cloak, and she enjoyed the ride to Segedunum to inform Lancelot of the aid that would be joining his patrols in the coming days... the fall leaves blowing about brought mind of snowy days not so far away when Arthur and his knights had rescued her... their trek south to Hadrian’s Wall and Baden Hill. How brightly her husband had shown his honor, his strength, his will. She was captivated by him... he was strength personified. It was a good marriage.. and he was a good man... she smiled to herself thinking how only a few years ago she would have balked at the very idea of belonging to a man... but now she could say she was content.

Two days after leaving Alison and the Xiomara, she came to Segedunum... her horse prancing in annoyance at being held outside the gates until the one in charge could verify the woman’s need to enter... "Tell Sir Lancelot... to come... and invite me in…" she challenged when the sentry would know her name... "Tell him the Archer has arrived…" The joke between them, since she had bested him more than once at that weapon…

So she waited... astride the roan stallion dressed as times of old; her brown leathers hugging her lean body, her hair loose and wild about her shoulders... a crossbow and quiver slung across her back. How surprised would the Dark Knight be to find his healing angel here... in the wilds... away from her husband?

Roused from bed, Lancelot, slowly rubbed his eyes, and yawn. Reluctantly pulling on his leather boots, then slipping the grayish wool sweater over his head. And lastly, the black leather jacket with silver studlets. His nightly patrol beginning to take its toll. Looking at the Sergeant of the Guard, he snarls… “Who is at the gate this damned early?” Though it was a few hours after sunrise, Lancelot’s timing was a bit off due to his patrol schedule.

“M’Lord… tis a Pict warrioress… she said to tell you the Archer has arrived… and you are to invite her in…”

“Lady Guinevere? Here? What the hell is she doing out here…?” Lancelot responded… his sleepy eyes now opened with vigor.

“THAT was Lady Guinevere? The Governor’s wife?” and the Sergeant swallowed hard, thinking he had made a dire mistake. How could he not known who Lady Guinevere was??? The military man had seen the Lady, when she dressed like a Lady… He knew her not as the warrioress Pict, or daughter of the Great Merlin in her current attire. “My apologies MiLord.”

Lancelot now hurried to better present himself. He could not help but chuckle at the Sergeant. “Yes, she has her ways, Sergeant.” Then he laughed… “Apologize not to me, but to her…” and he offered the man a familiar smirk. “Now on your way… Tell the Commander to open the gate, I am on my way…” And before the man could exit, Lancelot teased him. “Oh yes Amareis, apologize to the Lady when Gaius opens the gate.” He laughed when the man sighed and departed.

Amareis, the Sergeant of the Guard ran back to the gate… only to find that Gaius had already authorized entry for the Lady Guinevere and the pair were talking. In rapid-fire breaths, he informed both the Commander of the Guard and Lady Guinevere, that Lancelot was on his way. And in a chuckle, Gaius dismissed the Sergeant… and Amareis apologized quickly and profusely.

Lancelot made his way to the gate, his quarters situated in the rear of the post. The two-room quarters once was a feed storage area, but he had it converted when he gave the old roman officer’s quarters to the Captains of the Fort… a gesture to his men. Thru alleys, and shortcuts past buildings, he finally emerged at the far end of the gate’s open yard. Seeing her, he smiled brightly… and the pair met half-way.

First he stopped a fair distance from her… bowed deeply, and respectfully as a First Knight to the Governess; then took 2 steps forward as they both fell into a friendly embrace. “Guinevere… tis grand to see you M’Lady… How long have I yearned for the sight of thee.!!” Memories of yesteryear flooded his mind. “You are looking well, M’Lady…” He had so many questions…

She had dismounted in the meantime, her horse trailing behind her as she spoke with Gaius, the roan stallion gleamed copper in the sunlight; her smile, however, was even more radiant than the midday sun as her gaze fell on Lancelot… and when he stopped before her she laughed, and ran to him flinging herself into his arms, circling his neck with the enthusiasm of youth… her hands cradling his face as she settled two chaste kisses, one on either side of his face… "There is my dear friend" she hadn’t realized how much she had missed his warmth, his smile… and his company... "You look so well…" her hands pinched his cheeks tenderly… "I have missed you so…" there was an enthusiasm that was contagious... in her smile and the quiet laugh that tumbled from her lips… "You looked shocked to see me here?" her brows wafted upward in a teasing motion… "I bring you glad tidings…"

None there would flinch, nor remark, nor offer any expression at the pair’s enthusiastic greeting… for it was well-known that Lancelot and Guinevere had become close during his lengthy and arduous recovery after Baden Hill. And since that day both men rescued her, Arthur and Guinevere had fallen in love, and Lancelot being Arthur’s most loyal friend, befriended the Lady Guinevere as well. Assuredly, had it not been Arthur selecting Guinevere to be his choice, Lancelot would charmed the lady toward his persuasion, especially after witnessing her bath in the wagon days after the rescue… witnessing her radiant beauty sans clothing… a sight that burned in his mind still.

“Thank you M’Lady… I stay well…” The innocent kisses upon his cheek burned deep. Outwardly, the platonic relationship was stalwart… inwardly, turmoil beset his soul, as he desired Guinevere beyond reason, but alas the loyalty to Arthur was greater. “And I you, M’Lady… much more than ye knows” … speaking softly regarding them missing one another.

“If I looked a bit shocked, tis good reason, for I never expected you this far north…” he chuckled think about what he would say next… “At least not so soon…” He knew she yearned excitement… And he incorrectly assumed it was the some ten years or so younger than Arthur, more near Lancelot’s age, that caused the yearning Still the Dark Knight kept his silence, and his thoughts, to himself.

"You should know well I am never what is expected…" she grinned charmingly up at him, what change had come over her, since leaving the walls of Camelot, walls that held her bound to the ways of a Lady, and not any Lady but Arthur’s Lady... the Governor’s wife... she had no real identity of her own... she belonged to Camelot, to Britain and to Arthur... but what of herself… her dreams and passions...? She had not realized how much she chafed at the containment... until she was free of it… free to be at one with herself, the land.. the forest... free from Camelot... and Arthur. The thought caused a blush to fall over her cheeks, a feeling of guilt just at the thought… He was her husband and she loved him... she reminded herself, inwardly chastising herself for feeling free... sans his presence... She fell quiet until Lancelot extended his arm for her...

He extended his elbow toward her, for her to take his arm. “I shall have quarters prepared for you…” and with the other hand, motions to a squire… “You, Squire, ensure the preparation of the visitor quarters for M’Lady Guinevere…” As he walked toward the tavern, a quiet place during the day where the officers can relax before the men invaded the night. “We shall be in the tavern until the room will be ready…” and the squire nodded, bowed, “Yes MiLord…” and departed quickly.

She took the proffered arm, with a smile banishing her earlier thoughts, she would be back in Camelot soon enough… no need to find the mood that accompanied her while she was there... here on this beautiful day. "So gallant and bossy…" she quirked a grin up at him... as they moved toward the Tavern... "But right on track as I am famishes... hard tack and jerked meat are no longer my usual fare, I fear I have been spoiled by the kitchens at Camelot" she jested lightly, she seemed uninhibited… free and childlike in her enjoyment of the autumn day and the company. How it was she felt so comfortable with the dark knight that most thought of as surly and sullen… hard... and yet the days of nursing him back to health had given her a rare insight into the man… his unusual sense of dry humor, and the honor and loyalty that he cloaked himself in… not only that... but the grief and loss of his family, his sister… and the brethren lost to a war not their own... they held so much in common.

Oh how difficult to harbor such emotions deep in the heart when she was around. He truly wished to allow them freedom. But she was destined to Arthur. At times, he wished he had died that day at Baden Hill… But fate sought a purpose for him; one which he knew not… nor she. “Oh really my dearest Guinevere… What glad tidings? Did the Saxon sail home? Had the Romans finally given up all holds against Britain?” To him, was her presence not enough glad tidings? Or pure torture? Why does anyone think he persuaded Arthur for the Pass and Segedunum Fort as his responsibility to protect in the Governor’s plan for Britain? Why not ask Arthur to remain at Camelot…? Guinevere !!

If her presence alone was a task to his control, certainly the Pict leathers would hold sway on his imagination as well... they seemed to have been painted on her lower half, her willowy long legs and pert backside seemed to bounce as she jaunted along beside him, the heelless leather boots giving her a certain spring in her step that delicate satin slippers would never abide... "Wish that I could offer those tidings to you, but no…" she grinned up at him with her impossibly large eyes, framed with dark lashes that fluttered like fans... and that mouth... grinning up at him, imperfect, too thin on the top, and too full on the bottom... her teeth to prominent, and yet somehow it was charmingly original to her and her alone… making her beauty all the more accessible… "I have been on a mission for Arthur on your behalf... to gain you allies and aid..." her dark brow widened up, trying to intrigue him, like a child trying to gain and co-conspirator... "Care to guess whom?" she laughed and stepped into the tavern as he ordered them mead... "And a bowl of whatever is hanging over the fire…" she added as she settled at a table near the fire... tossing off her gloves and laying aside her weapons that hung non-challantly from her delicate form... Straddle a bench she faced him so that they were face-to-face as they awaited their mead and meal... "I went as emissary to the Xiomara... My sister Alison leads them... and they have agreed to align themselves… with you and your men against the Saxons... in so far as repelling the incursions into these lands... do not expect much fraternization, they are still wary of Arthur’s Legions as they call you and yours…" she grinned at him... it was a wonderful boon... the beleaguered and thinly stretched manpower of Arthur’s Legions...

His feelings for the Lady could not be spoken… for it would appear treasonous to his best friend, and brother-in-arms. Treasonous to the new land… He simply smiled and opened the tavern door for her… “Mead, Tender… two.” And they moved to a table. “How is Arthur?” He inquired as they sat.

When he asked of Arthur... her smile seemed to dim... a bit... but she was relieved when the tender interrupted setting their drinks on the table along with two bowls of stew... and a loaf of crusty bread. She busied herself with tearing off a chunk of bread and dipping it into the bowl... "Arthur is well... exceedingly so... Each day brings new villages and people to his court, joining the birth of a new nation... he's often busy with new trade proposals and matters of law…" her mouth was filled for a moment and she chewed thoughtfully... "He misses you... his First... and best... misses your company and advice but he knows you chafe at the walls and the business side of diplomacy... that you need the wilds…" was she speaking of him or her... or both...?

Oh yes, he knew she was never what any would, or could, expect… maybe that was what he loved about her… She had always been that being full of energy. And as she took his arm, he smirked. “Yes, I am bossy… tis mine to boss…” he smirked. “And I am sure the kitchens of Camelot have been good to thee M’Lady, I see it…” he chuckles as he looks to her buttocks… and as he is chastised for his comment, he laughs. “Our kitchens are not like those of Camelot, but tis good cooks here.”

"Wish that I could offer those tidings to you, but no…" Oddly enough, he canted his head at her as he paused and sat down at the table. He only acknowledged the tavern keep with a nod, his attention focused on her. “Xiomara?” and his head swiveled to a mirrored cant. He knew the Xiomara, a bunch of half-breed Sarmatian-Briton-Pict women who refused to conform to a womanly nature. “Has Arthur lost his mind? Does he know what these women are like?” He shook his head. “You talk about bossy and demanding… To have these women roaming free with a bunch of men? Men who see only the whores and scourge of profiteers for months?” Maybe Lancelot was exaggerating a bit… or was he? In his mind he wasn’t.

“Fraternization? I hope not… I would prefer they not enter my fort…” And who was one of the biggest offenders of fraternization? And in order to change the tone of things he inquired about his best friend and husband of the woman he cared about most. “Each day brings new villages and people to his court, joining the birth of a new nation... he's often busy with new trade proposals and matters of law…" “Tis nay wonder, he enjoys such tasks…” “He misses you…” “And I him M’Lady…”

The lands of the Pass, and Segedunum Fort, had been his to command and protect… and was his sanctuary away from what he desired, but could not have… And he looked at her now at his table. Soon she would sleep here… and he would have to fight the demons that would betray him. Demons of desire that could, and would destroy a new nation… or destroy him if nay acted upon. He so much wanted to say how much he missed her as well… and he loved them both. Could love and life be so cruel? His moniker of Dark Knight was well deserved, but none knew by what depths. Twas best he get her to quarters and be rid of her… as distance between them minimal was cause for demons to stir.

He sucked down the mead, dangerously close to one gulp… and he ordered another…

KoRT (Knights of the

Round Table)

Faith, Charity, Justice, Sagacity, Prudence, Temperance, Resolution, Truth, Liberality, Diligence, Hope, Valor.

A Royal Pair, the Untold Story

AG1

“Lancelot... its Guinevere... can ye ‘ear me? …. Everything is alright now... I promise everything is fine… Sleep Lancelot... rest so ye can get well... ye must get well.”

The caregivers would not have to tie him down, as from the depths of his fevered mind came a voice… like a light in the darkness drawing him toward it… Had his gods finally granted him peace?

Unsure or Worthy of a Crown

AG3

~ Arthur and Guinevere are Married ~

Arthur, Guinevere, Alison, Merlin and Others;
Stonehenge
Spring, 466 AD

AG4

Betrayal of the Hearts

Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, and Others;
Camelot
September, 466 AD

Lancelot and Guinevere
Segedunum Fort, Hadrian's Wall
September to November 466 AD

Here are the events that led to the adulterous affair between Guinevere and Lancelot.

To the Fort

He sucked down the mead, dangerously close to one gulp… and he ordered another…

KoRT

Channels

KoRTArthur

KoRT Lancelot

KoRT~Tristan

KoRT~Gawain

A Royal Pair, the Untold Story AG1

​

“Lancelot... its Guinevere... can ye ‘ear me? …. Everything is alright now... I promise everything is fine… Sleep Lancelot... rest so ye can get well... ye must get well.”

​

The caregivers would not have to tie him down, as from the depths of his fevered mind came a voice… like a light in the darkness drawing him toward it… Had his gods finally granted him peace?

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

​

Unsure or Worthy of a Crown

​

​

​

AG3

​

~ Arthur and Guinevere are Married ~

​

Arthur, Guinevere, Alison, Merlin and Others; Stonehenge Spring, 466 AD

​

​

AG4

​

Betrayal of the Hearts

​

Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, and Others; Camelot September, 466 AD

​

​

​

Lancelot and Guinevere Segedunum Fort, Hadrian's Wall September to November 466 AD

Here are the events that led to the adulterous affair between Guinevere and Lancelot.

​

To the Fort

​

He sucked down the mead, dangerously close to one gulp… and he ordered another…

KoRT

Channels

*KoRT*Arthur

*KoRT* Lancelot

*KoRT*~Tristan

*KoRT*~Gawain

A Royal Pair, the Untold Story

AG1

Arthur, Guinevere, Alison, Merlin and Others;
Stonehenge
Spring, 466 AD

Arthur, Guinevere, Lancelot, and Others;
Camelot
September, 466 AD

Lancelot and Guinevere
Segedunum Fort, Hadrian's Wall
September to November 466 AD

KoRTArthur

KoRT Lancelot

KoRT~Tristan

KoRT~Gawain