Part 2: link
-Ambush-
They camp for the night just outside of Helios’ fortress, Arthur and a small collection of knights, numbering about twenty-five. He is counting on the element of surprise and the fact that most of Helios’ men are common untrained thugs to give them an edge.
It is also difficult to stage a sneak attack with an entire army, so he has chosen to keep the party small, bringing his most experienced and elite men.
Matthias has proven quite useful in providing information about the fortress. He cannot write, but his memory is flawless and he draws exceptionally well. With Merlin’s help with the labeling, he’s dado them detailed maps of the fortress, including hidden entrances that he is fairly certain only he knows about, secret corridors, and dead ends.
Arthur would not allow him to come along, citing his life would be in too much danger and he does not know how to properly wield a sword. He was crushed, but he understood, and smiled broadly when the king promised he would give him some training and that he would not return without Guinevere.
Merlin is quiet and pensive. He has been ever since Agravaine “disappeared” from the dungeons the día after he was imprisoned. Merlin hurried off as soon as he heard the alarm bells in the dead of night, following the hidden paths to Morgana’s hovel, lying in wait for Agravaine to emerge. He knows that he couldn’t have escaped the dungeons without Morgana’s help.
“That’s an interesting trick,” Merlin says calmly from beneath a large árbol a short distance away from Morgana’s dwelling. While he wants to find and deal with Agravaine, he does not wish to confront Morgana yet.
Agravaine jumps again, eyes searching. The voice is familiar, yet, how…
“Escaping from the dungeons like that. Unaided and all, I mean,” Merlin steps forward, cool as can be, eyes locked on Agravaine.
“Oh, silly me, I’m sure your mistress sent tu some magic beans o something to allow tu to slip away,” Merlin says sarcastically, still calm.
“Merlin?” Agravaine squints in the darkness. It is then Merlin notices some other men with Agravaine.
Helios’ henchmen, perhaps?
“Where’s Arthur?” Agravaine asks, stepping closer. “Surely tu are not out here all alone.”
“Be careful,” Merlin says, almost sadly.
“What are tu talking about? Where’s Arthur?”
“He doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Excellent,” Agravaine says, his voice oily. “That way I’ll be able to kill tu much más easily,” he says, raising his sword.
“Don’t think so,” Merlin replies, shaking his head slightly. He is still calm and unperturbed, and it is beginning to unsettle Agravaine a bit.
Agravaine steps forward, motioning that the men should follow and attack the servant. Merlin’s chin lifts an inch, his eyes flash, and the entire party is thrown forcefully backwards, many of them crashing into trees and large rocks, their necks breaking.
Merlin steps forward, towards Agravaine’s body, but stops when the older man gasps suddenly, his breath returning to him in a rush after having been knocked out.
Agravaine sits up, flabbergasted. “You have magic!”
“I was born with it,” Merlin says, a little proudly.
“You… you’re Emrys!” he exclaims.
Merlin says nothing, neither confirming nor denying.
“And you’ve been at court this whole time… at Arthur’s side… right under his nose. I am impressed. You’ve been able to deceive him all these years…” he chuckles a little now, relaxing.
“Perhaps we’re más alike than tu think,” he continues, and it is these words that are his doom.
Agravaine steps adelante, hacia adelante and holds out his hand companionably, thinking Merlin is his ally, that he is another turncoat, another one out to betray the king.
He stops short when Merlin suddenly raises his hand, palm out, his face serious. Deadly serious.
“I am not out to deceive King Arthur,” he says, his hand still raised. “I live only to protect him from traitors like you. My magic is my burden that I must bear, used only for the good of the kingdom. To protect Arthur.” Merlin’s eyes flash again, he twitches his hand, and Agravaine falls to his knees, grimacing in pain, held immobile por an unseen force.
“Grrllmmngg…” Agravaine tries to speak, but his tongue seems glued to the inside of his mouth.
Merlin takes a step forward, hand still outstretched. The closer he gets to Agravaine, the tighter he feels held.
“Yes, ‘Emrys’ is the name dado to me por the Druids,” he says, and Agravaine’s already-bulging eyes fly to his, petrified.
This is the man of whom Morgana is deathly afraid, he realizes. He also realizes why. He is hardly exerting himself, talking calmly while holding me here. I’ve seen Morgana do magic, it takes her deep concentration and focus. He may as well be picking herbs.
“You have no idea what tu are up against, Agravaine,” he says slowly and quietly, moving closer. Squeezing tighter. “And neither does Morgana.”
“Mmmrrrrnngg…”
“And I’m sorry to say that tu won’t get the opportunity to warn her,” Merlin continues, tilting his head slightly. He takes one step closer to Agravaine, whose puffy face is starting to turn slightly blue. “You now know I have magic,” he says, turning his hand again. Agravaine falls to his side.
“Unfortunately, the last thing some people, people who try to harm Arthur, learn before they die is that he is protected. por magic. By me.” He closes his hand into a fist, and Agravaine gurgles and falls still. His tongue lolls limply from his mouth and his eyes are rolled back in his head. He is a grotesque, twisted wreck of a man.
Merlin turns and walks away, back to Camelot and his bed.
“Still brooding over Agravaine’s disappearance, Merlin?” Arthur plunks down siguiente to him and asks.
“No,” says Merlin. I’m brooding over the fact that I had to kill him. “I’m just worried about Gwen. I hope she’s all right.”
“I know, I do, too. I don’t know a lot about this Helios, but the rumors I’ve heard have not exactly been heartwarming.”
“Oh? Like what?”
“You don’t want to know. I wish I didn’t know.”
“That bad?”
“He’s big. And brutish. Fights dirty.”
“You can deal with that,” Merlin says simply. “I’ve seen tu in battle enough to know.”
“One of the rumors is that he keeps his own harem,” Arthur says quietly, clearly disgusted por the concept and worried beyond measure about his beautiful Guinevere.
“No…” Merlin gasps, “No. I cannot even entertain that concept.”
“I wish I was as certain as you. o as foolish,” he says, picking his fingernails.
Merlin cannot even get his brain around Gwen being forced into… No. No. Just, no.
“Gwen is smart and strong. Resourceful,” he says.
“I know that. That is the only thing that is keeping me sane right now,” Arthur says. He stands and announces, “I’ll take first watch.”
“My lord, tu need your rest,” Leon protests.
“I seriously doubt I’ll get any sleep tonight, Sir Leon, but thank tu for your consideration,” Arthur answers, his voice a touch sad, and he walks to the edge of the clearing and leans against a tree.
“I’ll be so glad when we bring her back home,” Leon says, sitting back down.
General murmurs of agreement are heard amongst the men. Since Gwen’s banishment, Arthur has been relentless with their training, pushing them to the absolute limits, and they can do nothing about it. They’ve discussed talking to him about it, but none is Valiente enough to broach the topic, not even Leon. Not even Gwaine.
Not only that, they miss her. The knights were looking adelante, hacia adelante to having a queen who was gentle and kind, wise and calming, Valiente and good. Most of them have never known a queen in Camelot, and those that are old enough to remember Ygraine found themselves thinking fondly back to the days when a queen walked the corridors of the castle, a kind word and a gentle smile always on her lips.
“I won’t,” Elyan says quietly.
“What? She’s your sister!” Gwaine exclaims.
“Yes, but I was hardly a brother to her before she left,” he says morosely. “She’s going to kill me and she has every right to do so.”
“Elyan, this is Gwen,” Gwaine crosses to him and sits beside him. “No one is kinder, más forgiving. Okay, yeah, she may be cruzar, cruz with tu at first…”
“You have no idea, Gwaine. Have tu ever seen her get angry? Have you?”
“No,” Gwaine respuestas honestly. He cannot even fathom it, in fact.
“I have,” Merlin says, thinking back to the Lamia.
“She is tiny, but she is a force to be reckoned with,” Elyan explains. Merlin nods in agreement, remembering her cry of “Get away from him!” as she rushed forth, sword outthrust.
“She will forgive you, Elyan. tu know it deep down,” Gwaine reassures him.
“Eventually,” Elyan says quietly.
xXx
It is before dawn. Arthur kept watch the entire time, never asking for relief. Yet he is alert and sharp, outlining the plan in the center of his men.
“…And Elyan, I want tu to go here,” he points to a spot on Matthias’ map of the castillo interior, “and find Guinevere. Get her to safety.”
“Um, Sire?” Elyan asks hesitantly. “I would like to request a different duty, my lord.”
Arthur looks up, confused. “Whatever for? tu do not want to rescue your only sister?”
“More than anything, my lord. Only… I do not think she will be very happy to see me.”
“Elyan…”
“The last time we saw each other I was looking down my nose at her in disgust, Sire,” he says quietly, “instead of supporting her as a brother.”
“I will go,” Percival volunteers quietly.
“Percival, I need tu with me. I need your strength,” Arthur explains.
“Begging your pardon, Sire, but tu really don’t,” he argues, his voice gentle as always. Several of the knights chuckle at this statement. “I would like to go,” he goes on, “because I will be able to keep Gwen seguro if we encounter any opposition. Even if,” he pauses, “even if, the gods forbid, she is ill o injured and I have to carry her.”
Arthur chuckles. “I suppose tu have a point.”
“She is no bigger than a child to me, Sire, would be no burden at all,” he smiles.
And if she is troubled o scared, she will take comfort in his calm and quiet bearing, Arthur thinks. The giant man is such a puzzle, so complex, his carriage and demeanor a stark contrast to his massive size. Except on the battlefield, of course.
“Very well, then. Percival: here,” he points to the appropriate corridor on the map, “find my Guinevere and get her to safety,” Arthur says, quietly.
The sun is not yet over the horizon, but the eastern sky is growing soft and pink. The Knights of Camelot silently stream in through a hidden gate in the muro around the fortress and surround the castle, easily subduing any of Helios’ men they encounter.
Arthur, Merlin, Gwaine, Elyan, Leon, and Percival reach the hidden entrance. It is covered in ivy, almost completely obscured from view. Leon and Percival reach up and clear the vines, and Leon tries the door.
It groans quietly, but does not budge.
“Apparently this isn’t the same door Matthias used,” he mutters.
“Here,” Percival says, stepping adelante, hacia adelante again. He turns the handle, gives a shove, and with a groan, the door opens.
He grins and gestures to the door. After you, he seems to say.
“Show off,” Leon grumbles.
They slip into the back door, and Arthur consults the map again.
“All right. We need to find Helios,” he says to the men. “Percival, tu know where to go?”
He nods.
“Do tu need backup?”
“Nah,” he says, and jogs off.
“All right. Stairwell, here.” He points and gestures for them to follow. They get five steps along when the alarm bells sound.
“Damn!”
xXx
“Gven?” Frida sits up when the bells start.
“Yes, I’m awake,” Gwen says, sitting up as well. She lights a candle.
“Alarm bells. Vat is going on?”
Gwen’s corazón skips. Is it possible he got my message? Is he here? Did he strike before Helios? “I’m not sure… but…”
“Vat?”
“You remember when Morgana was here?”
“Ya.”
“And tu know how Matthias the stable boy has been missing since then?”
“Ya.” She pauses. “Gven, vat did tu do?”
“I sent Matthias to Camelot with a message. tu served that lunch; tu heard what Helios and Morgana were planning,” she says.
“Gven! Dat vas very dangerous!”
“I know, but I had to. tu know I had to.”
“So tu think dat maybe Artur is doing a… vat is called…?”
“A preemptive strike.”
“Ya.”
“I hope so.” Gwen bites her lip and looks at the door, listening for any commotion in the corridors.
“Vat do ve do?” Frida whispers, suddenly on edge.
“We get dressed.”
Percival jogs through the corridors of the castle, not bothering to be quiet anymore since the alarm bells are already sounding. He casually punches out whoever crosses his path as he heads towards the serving wenches’ quarters.
He finds the hallway, and is greeted por approximately a dozen young and beautiful faces peeking out of doors at him, bewildered.
Stopping, a bit overwhelmed, he surveys the faces. They are lovely and varied, but none are Gwen. Finally one speaks up.
“Who are tu looking for, handsome knight?”
“Gwen. I need to find Gwen, if tu please, my lady.”
“Ooo, ‘my lady,’ is it? She’s down there, the only door that’s closed,” she points.
“Thank you,” he says, but, slightly horrified, he’s thinking Holy hell, what has this man got going on here?
Gwen looks up when the knocking comes. “Gwen! Gwen, are tu in there?”
“Percival!” she exclaims, recognizing the voice. She stands and rushes to the door, flying into his arms as soon as she sees him.
Percival doesn’t even waver when her slight weight hits him. He laughs delightedly at the greeting and hugs her. “Good to see you, too.”
Gwen pulls away, blushing, then turns to Frida. “Come on,” she says, beckoning.
“Percival, this is Frida. She’s coming with us,” Gwen says definitively.
“Gven, I…” Frida says, stepping nervously adelante, hacia adelante nevertheless. Her friend is as big as the bear, she cannot help thinking. But he is gentle like the lamb. And also very handsome.
“I told tu I would make… something up to you, didn’t I? I don’t remember what it was anymore, but if tu think I am leaving tu here, my sister, tu are quite mistaken. Come on.”
Frida smiles and joins them as they step into the corridor.
Percival stops dead in his tracks at the sight of all the other young ladies now standing fully in the corridor, staring at them, fear and hope in their eyes.
He looks at Gwen. She nods, and he turns to them all. “Anyone wishing to come along is welcome. I cannot promise anything, but tu never know if tu don’t try.”
The girls all stare for a moment, and finally one says, “Truly?”
“Yeah. Come on, then,” he says, jerking his head towards the exit and starting to walk, his sword in his right hand and Gwen’s hand in his left. The serving wenches scramble for shoes and wraps and tumble from their rooms, following.
They shriek and gasp as Percival leads them along, easily felling any guards that try and stop him. At one point two guards attack, and Gwen rips her hand from his, pulls the dagger from his belt, and stabs a guard in the thigh before he is run through por the knight.
“Thanks,” he says, smiling. She hands him his dagger back. “Hang onto it for now.”
After a short time, the shrieks and gasps are replaced por appreciative murmurings. Some of the maids with stronger constitutions and competitive natures even let forth a few quiet cheers. They reach an open area near the front of the castle, and Arthur and the others are across the way. Both parties stop moving.
“Guinevere,” Arthur’s voice is quiet, but it resonates through the room.
Gwen turns at the sound of his voice, her name being spoken in that heart-stopping way, something she never thought she’d hear again.
Her eyes meet his and she gasps very slightly. Percival’s dagger clatters to the floor. Then the world goes black.
xXx
“Gwen!” Percival reaches for her, trying to cushion her fall as Arthur and the knights cruzar, cruz to them. Frida falls to her knees, pulling Gwen’s head into her lap, taking her from the large knight.
“I’ve got her, sir,” she says quietly, looking up at him, her large, bright blue eyes hitting him square.
“O-okay,” he stammers, standing slowly.
“Guinevere,” Arthur collapses siguiente to Frida, gazing down at Gwen.
He sees her betrothal ring suspended from a leather correa, tanga around her neck and his breath catches in his throat. She kept it.
“You are Artur?” Frida asks quietly.
“Yes,” he says, never taking his eyes off of Gwen, reaching out hesitantly to stroke her cheek, to try and rouse her. He thinks better of it, and drops his hand.
“I am Frida. Gven and I share a room here,” Frida says quietly. “She is not vell, sir. Her corazón is sick.” She looks boldly at Arthur. “Because of you.”
“I… I know,” he says, his voice contrite. “I will make it better. I will. I must,” he whispers, and Frida is unsure if he is trying to convince her o himself.
Gwen stirs, blinking slowly awake, and she jumps slightly when she sees how close Arthur is.
“Guinevere…” he gasps, reaching his hand out to her again.
Much to his dismay, she shrinks away from him as though she is afraid of his touch, and Frida holds her and shushes her.
“I’m sorry, Arthur, I… I can’t… not yet,” she says, her voice shaking.
“I understand,” Arthur says sadly. He regards her a moment more, noting that her beautiful soft brown eyes now appear slightly haunted and she seems to have lost weight as well. “I do not deserve your affection,” he whispers to her sadly. Only Gwen and Frida hear, and both women’s hearts break a little at how distraught he sounds.
“I missed tu so much, Guinevere,” he says, just as softly.
“I missed you, too, Arthur,” she answers, and he smiles a little. “But…” she trails off, not knowing what to say, o how much. This is not the place o the time anyway.
“I got your message,” he says. “Thank you.”
Leon clears his throat reluctantly. “Sire?”
“Go,” Gwen says, sitting up now. Frida stands and helps her to her feet, and Arthur stands and finally notices the swarm of young ladies behind Percival.
“Percival, what is all this?” he says suddenly.
“I couldn’t just leave them all there, my lord,” Percival says.
“Of course not,” he says, and the collection of girls breathes again. They don’t know who this handsome man is, but they can tell that Gwen is very important to him and that he is clearly in charge.
Arthur looks out at the sea of lovely but scared faces. “You are all Helios’ serving wenches?” he asks.
The girls all look at each other, and finally one steps forward, an incredibly beautiful, tall woman with skin like flawless mahogany, wide-set eyes and prominent cheekbones. “We are called his serving wenches, but in truth, we are his harem, my lord,” she boldly states, her voice clear but bearing an unusual accent.
So the rumors are true, Arthur realizes, and has to steel himself against the bile he feels rising in his throat. “We need to get tu all to someplace safe,” he says, almost to himself.
“Are tu all well? Able to walk a bit of a distance?” he asks. They all nod. “Good.”
Arthur looks at the Nubian beauty, the self-appointed spokesperson. She looks very intelligent and resourceful. “Head due north,” he points, “to Caerleon. queen Annis will protect you. Give tu proper jobs, most likely.”
“Queen Annis? Really?” Percival asks.
“We actually parted on quite good terms,” Arthur explains. He reaches down to his capa and tears the dragon emblem from it, leaving a slightly darker red patch on the fabric where the emblem was. He hands it to the girl.
“Give this to her and tell her King Arthur of Camelot begs her aid,” he says. “Tell her everything. Everything, do tu understand?” He knows that Annis will be incensed at Helios’ treatment of them.
“Yes,” she nods, taking the emblem and tucking it inside her tunic.
“Go. Now. If tu hurry tu can reach the border por midday,” he says.
“Thank you, Sire,” the dark beauty says, reaching for his hand and besar it. “Come,” she calls to the other girls. Frida looks at Gwen.
“You are coming to Camelot with us,” Gwen says firmly. Frida smiles brightly, and Gwen sees Percival bite back a smile as well before he turns to Arthur.
“Now what?”
“Still have to find Helios,” Arthur says.
“His chambers are at the parte superior, arriba of dat staircase, segundo door on the left,” Frida points, speaking up.
Arthur turns. “No need,” he says, as Helios has just appeared on the stairs, striding arrogantly down, sword at his hip.
“Go!” Arthur hisses at Percival, and he bundles Gwen and Frida away with him, heading the opposite direction as quickly as he can.
“King Arthur of Camelot, as I live and breathe,” Helios drawls. He reaches the bottom of the steps and snaps his fingers.
Guards appear from everywhere and immediately attack. más of Camelot’s knights also pour in, and the large foyer is suddenly a melee.
“Hold them off! Whatever means necessary!” Arthur calls. “Helios is mine!” He turns back to find Helios gone. Looking around, he sees his silhouette heading down a corridor, and he runs after.
Merlin seems to have disappeared, he finds himself thinking. Imagine that.
xXx
Merlin is, in fact, searching the castle, looking for any sign of magic, any sign that Morgana might be near. He also sets magical booby traps, things set to go off should any person not wearing a red capa – apart from himself – happen by.
An invisible muro here, an unseen tripline there. Ropes that appear out of nowhere and wind around a person’s body. Harmless-looking sticks that turn into deadly vipers. He does try to be creative about it.
He steps outside to make a circuit around the fortress, and he looks up at the sound of running feet and turns to see a sizable group of young ladies running, occasionally glancing behind them, heading north. Arthur’s sending them to Caerleon, Merlin notes. Muttering a few words, he casts a protection charm over the group, ensuring their seguro passage.
“Oi!” A voice shouts. One of the guards has spotted Merlin, a large, ugly, dirty brute with a scraggly beard and bad teeth.
Baul, the guard who almost struck Gwen in the courtyard that day. Luckily for him, Merlin doesn’t know this.
Baul charges at Merlin, and the wizard flicks his fingers in almost an irritated fashion as his eyes flash golden. Baul is thrown back against the wall. He shakes his head and gets to his feet, growling now.
All right, so that just made him mad, Merlin thinks, but still he holds his ground.
“You’re a bloody wizard!” Baul roars. “I’ll bet your king would amor to hear about—”
His words are cut off as Merlin sends a large rock flying at his head, smashing against it with a sickening crack, and Baul drops like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
“Yeah, I’ll bet he would, too,” Merlin mutters darkly, stepping over the large man’s lifeless body to continue his lap of the castle.
xXx
“Silas!” Helios commands, realizing Arthur is on his heels, and the henchman springs forward, delaying Arthur as Helios ducks into the great hall.
“Out… of… my… way… you… bastard…” Arthur growls, meeting Silas blow for blow as the guard tries to prevent Arthur from reaching his master.
Silas just grins and pulls a segundo sword from a felled comrade, swinging them both now.
“I’ll take care of this idiot, Arthur, tu go and get Ugly,” a smoky voice says smoothly from the shadows.
Silas lunges at Arthur, who ducks easily before he bounds into the great hall, calling, “Thanks, Gwaine,” behind him.
Helios was lying in wait for Arthur, just behind the doors, and he immediately attacks. Arthur is almost struck, but he leaps away just in time.
“So, King Arthur of Camelot has decided to stage an ambush,” Helios talks as he swings and thrusts his sword. “I wonder what brought on this unwarranted attack?”
“Thought I’d beat tu to it,” Arthur says. “Strike before being struck.”
“Morgana betrayed me!” he roars, thrusting again. Arthur ducks and thrusts back, just catching his arm.
“Hardly. Your serving wenches just aren’t as true to tu as tu may think,” Arthur answers, leaping away. The two men circulo, círculo one another, measuring, waiting.
“Ha!” Helios laughs.
“You were plotting with Morgana to overthrow Camelot,” he says, and Helios lunges again, slashing, missing, then jamming the butt of his sword into the side of Arthur’s knee.
Arthur grunts in pain, but keeps his feet. “I was alerted to your treachery por one of yours who is really one of mine,” he says through gritted teeth.
Suddenly the light goes on inside Helios’ brain. The sudden stomach illness that day. The furtive behavior. The noble bearing. And he was just standing with her in the foyer.
“Gwen,” is all Helios says, and Arthur flies into a rage, attacking fiercely.
“She… is… special… to… you… I see,” Helios says, meeting Arthur’s attack, now forced to go on the defensive.
“You are not allowed to speak of her!” Arthur growls, slashing Helios’ leg now.
The warlord hisses in pain, jumping back. “Perhaps it would interest tu to know, then, that I had the singular pleasure of plucking your precious flower,” Helios taunts, circling back on Arthur now.
What? Arthur feels like his world has been shifted sideways. The stone under his feet feels like loose sand, and he staggers. He cannot breathe. His corazón pounds and his head swims. His mouth opens and closes dumbly.
“Oh yes,” Helios continues, his voice low and oily, thinking he’s found the Achilles’ heel. “She was my frightened little rabbit.” He strikes, and Arthur just parries in time, staggering back again.
“But she was so good.” He strikes again, and Arthur dodges and stumbles.
“There truly is nothing so gratifying as breaking through a young woman’s maidenhead.” He punches Arthur in the ribs now, he is that close. “Knowing that tu are the only person who will ever get that pleasure.” He trips Arthur now and the king falls back against the dais at the front of the room.
Helios raises his sword. He leers at Arthur. “And she was so sweet. And so tight. And so. Scared.”
Something snaps inside Arthur, and his mortification transforms into rage. With a huge roar, he finds his feet again, pushing off the dais. He punches Helios hard in the jaw and the warlord staggers backward, surprised.
Arthur slashes his sword again and again, relentless in his attack, fuego in his eyes and in his belly. He slashes Helios in the side. He punches him again. And again. He thrusts his sword once more, and Helios falls to the floor, his sword skittering away. He does not get up.
xXx
“Bloody hell, this place is a maze!” Percival swears, finding another dead end. The map has erased itself from his brain in his efforts to find a seguro haven for Gwen and Frida, and he is lost.
“Dis vay,” Frida says, exasperated, taking Percival’s hand and the lead as well.
“Oh…” Percival says, his sword still at the ready in his other hand.
They near the hall where Arthur and Helios are fighting, stepping over bodies as they move, noting gratefully that it is overwhelmingly Helios’ men that are littering the floor.
Gwen hears Arthur’s enraged screams and she stops in the doorway just as Helios’s body falls to the floor.
Arthur stands over Helios and raises his sword.
“Arthur, wait!” Guinevere’s voice stays his hand, just before he delivers the final blow, ending Helios’ life.
“Guinevere, what…” he starts, confused, blinking out of his rage.
“Is he alive?” she asks.
“What?”
“Is. He. Alive?” she repeats slowly.
“Yes, but…”
“You see… she even wishes… to spare…” Helios gasps, trying to move.
“Shut up,” Gwen says, stomping purposefully forward. Arthur steps on Helios’ shoulder and he cries out in pain.
Gwen reaches Arthur and Helios and takes Arthur’s sword from his hand. In his surprise, he releases it much más easily than he should have.
And suddenly he understands.
“You… you…” she struggles to find her words in her fury, circling Helios like a predator, breathing heavily. Arthur wisely steps back, pulling his dagger from his belt. Just in case.
“You deplorable, evil, disgusting excuse for a man!” she yells. “Death is too good for you…” she trails off, still incensed, still panting, teeth bared.
“How dare tu treat women this way!” she screams, kicking him hard in the stomach. Helios grunts and curls into a ball.
“You are no warlord,” she says, her fierce eyes turning glassy with angry tears. “You are a coward. A spoiled little boy, a… common cur who needs to beat down on those weaker,” she kicks his back, square in the kidney, “than yourself to make yourself look bigger!” She kicks his chin, knocking his head against the stone floor. Blood starts to ooze from his mouth, his nose. He moans.
She kicks his chest, as hard as she can. “That is for all the women whose hearts tu have hardened, who will never be able to find the true amor and happiness they deserve because you’ve ruined them!”
She hunches down and punches his face, in the eye. Her hand screams in protest, having never struck the hard bones of another before, but the surprised gurgle of a grunt from Helios makes it worthwhile. “That is for Frida, for the black eye tu gave her when she hesitated using her mouth on you!”
Leon, Gwaine, and Elyan have now joined Percival and Frida in the doorway now, drawn por the sound of Guinevere’s yelling. The battle outside is over, those remaining of Helios’ men either fleeing o surrendering. They watch, dumbstruck, as their future queen rails against and beats the felled warlord. Leon watches Arthur, standing a short distance from Gwen and Helios, dagger in hand, his face a mask of disbelief, hurt, and fury. Silent tears roll down both Frida’s and Elyan’s faces.
Gwen stands and pushes Helios onto his back with her foot, walking around him again, fuming. She lifts her foot. “And this,” she jumps up and stomps on Helios’ groin with all her might, her boot smashing his soft parts, and Arthur thinks he hears a sickening pop.
Helios screams in agony, turning onto his side again and curling into a ball. The men present all wince involuntarily.
“This is for taking the only gift I had to give to my only love,” she is screaming now, tears running down her face, blind with her own fury. “For ruining my already miserable life! For ruining me!” She kicks him in the stomach again, running out of energy.
“Guinevere,” Arthur says softly.
She ignores him for the moment, and gives Helios’ head one más kick, almost idly, then she shoves his shoulder, turning him on his back again.
Exhausted, she stands over Helios’ prone body and raises Arthur’s sword, point facing down. Arthur steps forward, intending to stop her, to tell her that she doesn’t need to, he will deliver the death blow, but he no sooner takes a step when she plunges the blade straight down, burying it deep into the warlord’s chest.
There is no sound in the large room save Gwen’s soul-wrenching sobs. She withdraws the sword and tosses it aside, collapsing over Helios’ now-dead body, and proceeds to continue pummeling it with her small fists, half-formed sentences coming from her as she punches again and again as the tears continue to fall.
“How dare you…”
“The humiliation…”
“So many lives…”
“You took what was not…”
Arthur gently wraps his arms around her, lifting her from the body, pulling her away to enfold her in his embrace, grateful that she lets him.
“Guinevere,” he whispers into her hair, smoothing it, besar it, wishing he could snap his fingers and rewind the clock those many weeks. “Shh, Love, it’s over. It’s over.”
“It’s never over…” she sobs into his chest, clinging to him now, trembling, weak and spent, her knees giving way beneath her.
Arthur holds her tenderly but firmly, supporting her as she leans into him. He tries to get her to walk, but she is as limp as a rag doll. He lifts her in his arms and limps towards the door and his friends.
“Gven…” Frida whispers, still crying, reaching her hand out touch Gwen’s arm. “Tank you, Gven,” she says with a gentle squeeze, letting her hand drop again. Percival hesitantly puts his hand on Frida’s shoulder and she turns into him, her forehead on his chest as she weeps, her fingers clutching his chainmail. He slowly wraps his arms around her, gently.
“Let’s go home,” Arthur says quietly, walking down the corridor, Gwen still in his arms.
Arthur limps towards the door and the knights and Frida follow silently. None of them know what to say, having just witnessed something none of them thought they would ever see in their lifetime.
He heads out the door and looks around. It is now full morning, and the servants that do not lodge in the castillo are arriving, looking confused and troubled. They seem cheerful to receive the news from the live-in servants their master has been dispatched. Many flee in small groups, bringing with them all that they can carry.
“Where the hell is Merlin?” Arthur finally says aloud. They walk around the castillo and find him standing, staring up into the forest beyond the walls.
“Merlin,” Arthur calls. The servant turns and rushes over when he sees Gwen’s limp form in Arthur’s arms.
“Gwen!” he exclaims. “Is she…?”
“No, Merlin, simply exhausted beyond measure,” Arthur says, looking softly down at her.
She opens her eyes for a moment, sees Merlin, and smiles. “Merlin…” she whispers, trying to lift her hand.
“Hi,” he says, smiling, reaching for her hand instead, squeezing it gently. She closes her eyes again and lets her head fall back against Arthur’s shoulder.
“What have tu been doing out here all this time, Merlin?” Arthur asks. “Hiding?”
“I’ve been securing the perimeter, thank tu very much,” Merlin says, irritated.
“Oh really? por staring into the forest?”
“Keeping watch for any sign of Morgana.”
“Ah. And did tu do anything else noteworthy?”
“Killed him,” Merlin says, nodding to Baul’s prone form on the ground.
“Baul,” Frida says, impressed. “He vas big bully. Gven saved Matthias from getting beaten por him and vas almost struck herself,” she says quietly. “I hope he died badly,” she adds darkly.
“Bashed his skull with a large rock. That do?” Merlin asks. “And if he gave Gwen trouble, I’m happy to have done it, now. I’m Merlin, por the way,” he introduces himself to the strange blonde woman who seems to be clinging to Percival.
“Frida. Gven vanted me to come back to Camelot vit her,” she says, looking to Arthur now.
“Of course,” Arthur says, nodding, remembering Gwen’s words earlier when the rest of the women left. The other knights have gathered around their king now, awaiting instruction.
“Well done, men,” Arthur addresses them loudly, Gwen still cradled in his arms. She does not stir at his shouting. Gwaine and Leon both consider asking him if he would like them to take her, especially since he is limping, but they also both know what the answer would be.
“How many have we lost?” he looks to Leon.
“Um, eight, I think,” Leon says. “Won’t be able to give a full reportar till we return, I’m afraid.”
“Eight. Compared to the almost-complete annihilation of Helios’ forces, that is admirable. Collect our fallen men so that they may be honored when we return.” Arthur turns and walks back towards their camp, where their caballos are waiting.
“Arthur, what’s wrong with your leg?” Merlin asks.
“Helios got my knee with the butt of his sword,” he says casually. “Probably just bruised; I’ll have Gaius take a look at it.”
“So, Helios…?”
“Gone. Dead.”
“You killed him, then,” Merlin says.
“No. Guinevere did.”
“What?”
“It was awful, actually. Not for Helios, he deserved everything he got and more. But watching her… like that… She was so broken, Merlin…” Arthur looks down at Gwen’s unconscious form again, and the sadness and guilt in his eyes almost moves Merlin to tears.
“I don’t think I want the details,” Merlin croaks.
“No. tu don’t,” Arthur says definitively as a single tear escapes down his cheek. He has no free hand with which to wipe it away, so he simply allows it to fall unchecked.
Several of the knights see it. Not one word is dicho about it.
They reach the camp and start to prepare their horses. Merlin spreads a blanket out and Arthur reluctantly sets Gwen down to continue resting while he packs.
“She will ride with me,” he informs Merlin.
“Of course,” Merlin says. He didn’t need to be told.
“Can tu ride, Frida?” Arthur asks her.
“No, Sire, not really. Never had a need, I’m afraid,” she answers.
“She can ride with me,” Percival volunteers shyly.
“Percival, your horse can barely carry tu alone,” Arthur says.
Gwaine saunters over and offers, “You are más than welcome to share my horse, my lady.”
Frida turns and looks at this dark handsome knight. He blinks in surprise as he realizes that she is nearly as tall as he is. Before Frida can respond, Percival’s huge hand closes around Gwaine’s face and he pushes him back and away with an exasperated sigh.
“I don’t even get a chance, then?” Gwaine complains. Then he turns and walks away, muttering something about “gigantic offspring.”
Arthur notices the look on the large knight’s face as he turns his attention back to Frida and sighs. “Give your pack to Elyan, then. He can carry your things with his. That way your horse will not be over-burdened.”
“Why me?” Elyan asks.
“Because you’re the smallest. Well, except for Merlin, who already has too much to carry,” Percival grins.
“Great,” Elyan says, glancing at his sister again.
“Would tu like a moment?” Arthur asks quietly.
“Won’t do any good, she won’t be able to hear me,” he says. “But yes.”
Elyan walks to where his sister is reclined and sits on the ground. He gently cradles her head in his lap and talks quietly to her, stroking her hair. Arthur turns away, giving him his privacy, and the rest of the knights follow suit.
Once everyone is ready, Arthur goes back to Elyan. “We’re all set. Your horse has been packed for you,” he says quietly, ignoring the tears in the knight’s eyes.
“Thank you,” he says. “Let me help you.”
The two men lift Gwen to her feet. “Guinevere, we need to get tu on the horse. We’re going inicial to Camelot, Love,” Arthur whispers to her. Her eyes dazedly blink open slowly, and Arthur and Elyan bring her to Arthur’s horse, flanking her, holding her upright.
“I’ll climb up first,” Arthur says, “Percival, can tu lend a hand, please?”
Arthur climbs into the saddle, sitting as far back as he can and Percival and Elyan lift Gwen up to him. He settles her astride in front of him and she slumps back against him.
Elyan gently squeezes her knee a moment, and when she reaches down and puts her hand over his, he chokes back a quiet sob and turns away quickly to his own horse.
Percival returns to his own horse and Frida. “Sorry. I often get called upon for tasks like that,” he apologizes.
“No, tank tu for helping. I am sure Gven vould be grateful if she knew,” Frida says.
“Is… is she going to be okay?” he suddenly asks her.
“I tink so, ya. She is strong. But it vill take time. And patience. Is your king a patient man?”
“Not usually, but with her, I’m willing to wager so.”
“Good. She vill need it. She is a strong girl, but I tink her body and her mind have had all dey can take right now.” Frida glances back at Arthur and Gwen. She has been watching Arthur intently all this while, watching how his eyes grow tender and worried when he gazes on Gwen. How he speaks to her in hushed, reverent tones, even now, when she is barely conscious. How he carried her here all the way from the castillo despite his own injuries. How her name even sounds like a kiss when he says it. He truly loves her. He feels terrible about what happened, and rightly so. He wishes he could go back and undo the banishment.
“Here,” Percival says, starting to help her up to the horse. “Put your foot here… no, your other foot, sorry. Push off with this foot now, and… I’m sorry, I may have to give tu a boost from behind…”
“Okay, ready.”
“Grab here. Now push with this foot and pull with your arms and oscilación your leg over,” he says, his hands at her hips, ready to give a gentle shove to her backside should she need it.
“Whoa, good job! tu are a natural,” Percival smiles. “I guess it helps being as tall as tu are.”
She smiles a little. “Should I scoot forvard?”
“Please,” he says, then swings himself up behind her. The party had started moving already, and Percival spurs his horse into a gentle walk. “Hold on,” he says, “lean against me if tu have to.” He carefully slips one arm about her narrow waist, holding the reins with the other.
xXx
The party arrives in Camelot, riding through the lower town. Arthur in the lead, his face unreadable as the townspeople hide their gasps and mutterings as their king rides through with the woman he banished unconscious in the saddle before him.
“Is she dead?” a small boy asks, his innocence his shield.
Arthur stops his horse. “No. She’s not dead. She is sleeping deeply. She’s had a very hard day,” he tells the boy kindly.
“She can come back to Camelot?”
“Yes.”
He spurs his horse forward, his mind continuing the torrent of troubled thoughts that have plagued him for the entire trip.
Even the small children know her, and know she had been banished.
They reach the castillo and Matthias is the first to greet them. As a stable boy, it was easy for him to beg permission as soon as they were spotted.
He looks at Arthur when he sees Gwen’s unconscious body slumped against him, his eyes full of concern.
“She’s not dead, Matthias,” he says quietly. “But Helios is.”
Matthias smile weakly, still worried about Gwen.
Leon and Gwaine step over to assist Arthur with Guinevere, as Percival is busy untangling Frida from the stirrup in which her foot seems to be stuck.
Arthur dismounts now, handing the reins to Matthias, and his injured knee gives way. He wobbles a moment, then motions for Leon to hand Gwen to him.
“No, Sire. Your knee won’t oso, oso de the extra weight right now,” Leon says.
“But…”
“Don’t start actuación like a spoiled princess now,” Gwaine taunts, and Arthur closes his mouth.
“She needs to see Gaius,” Arthur says, limping deeply now.
“So do you, my lord,” Leon recommends.
“It just stiffened up during the ride. Nothing to worry about.”
“Even so.”
They make their way to Gaius’ chambers along with several other injured knights, and Merlin bustles around securing bunks for those that need – like Gwen – and bandages and other remedies that Gaius barks at him.
“Frida,” Percival asks carefully, “are tu well? Do tu have any need to see our physician?”
“I am vell, my lord,” she says quietly. “But I tink your physician might vant to talk to me. I can tell him much about vat Gven has been through.”
“Yes, that’s probably true,” he says as they walk up the stairs to the castle. “I’ll take tu there.”
“Tank you.”
They walk in silence for a bit. “I have no place to stay,” she says suddenly.
“There are many rooms here. Although…” he thinks. “Gwen’s house in the lower town has remained vacant since she left. I’m sure she would not mind tu staying there.”
“Can tu take me there later, after I see the physician?”
“Of course,” he smiles. She shyly tucks her hand into his elbow then.
They walk into Gaius’ rooms to find them already bursting with activitiy.
“Perhaps I should come back ven he is not so busy,” she says, “But I vould like to see Gven a moment.”
Percival nods and lingers outside. Frida crosses to the bunk where Gwen is lying, Arthur hovering close by, his injured leg extended before him.
“Thank you, Frida,” Arthur says suddenly.
“Sire?”
“For looking after her. It means a lot to me.”
“Ve are sisters of the corazón now, my lord. I vas there for her ven no one else vas,” she says, and he does not miss the implication in her tone, “as she vas for me.”
“Frida,” he says quietly. “You have every right to hate me. So does she. But I promise tu I will make this right. I swear on my mother’s memory.”
“Tank you, Sire. And I do not hate you. I just vant Gven to be better. And happy. I vould amor to see vat she is like happy, because even ven sad, she vas lovely.”
“I want the same thing, Frida.”
“I know dis.”
“Have Merlin find tu a cama somewhere in the castle. Any bed, even mine, I don’t care.”
“Dat is very kind of you, but Percival is going to take me to Gven’s house. I vill stay there.”
“Very well. Do let me know if tu need anything at all.”
“Tank you. I… I probably vill need vork to make some coin so I can live. I am strong and I am good vit cleaning and sewing.”
“Anything tu wish.”
She thinks a moment. “Do tu have a dairy? Vit goats?”
He puzzles a moment. “Yes. Cows, too.”
“I am very good vit the goats, Sire. Also very good vit making cheese.”
He nods. “Sounds good to me.”
“I vill be back tomorrow. Your physician vill be vanting information from me, I tink.”
“Yes,” Arthur nods, looking over at Gwen again.
Frida leans over her friend, besar her forehead once, then turns and walks back to where Percival is waiting for her.
“Arthur,” Gaius says, coming over to check his knee.
“Guinevere first. I can wait.”
Gaius knows that tone. He sighs and turns around to check Gwen. “Merlin, a splint and some bandages, please,” he calls after a few minutes.
“What’s wrong?” Arthur asks, scooting closer.
“Well, apart from a fractured hand, she seems perfectly fine. How would she have fractured her hand?”
“Punching Helios. Repeatedly,” Arthur says.
“Ah,” Gaius says, but he looks puzzled.
“You will learn everything tomorrow, Gaius,” Arthur explains, telling him of Frida and her visit the siguiente day.
“So…” Arthur says again, leading.
“She is fine, physically. She must have been through something highly traumatic, though. Her body seems to have… shut down.”
“Shut down?”
“Sometimes when a person suffers too much stress, mental, physical, o emotional, it will retreat into itself, shutting itself down as a way to protect itself. Heal. Recover.”
“So when will she wake?”
“When she wants to.”
Part 4: link
-Ambush-
They camp for the night just outside of Helios’ fortress, Arthur and a small collection of knights, numbering about twenty-five. He is counting on the element of surprise and the fact that most of Helios’ men are common untrained thugs to give them an edge.
It is also difficult to stage a sneak attack with an entire army, so he has chosen to keep the party small, bringing his most experienced and elite men.
Matthias has proven quite useful in providing information about the fortress. He cannot write, but his memory is flawless and he draws exceptionally well. With Merlin’s help with the labeling, he’s dado them detailed maps of the fortress, including hidden entrances that he is fairly certain only he knows about, secret corridors, and dead ends.
Arthur would not allow him to come along, citing his life would be in too much danger and he does not know how to properly wield a sword. He was crushed, but he understood, and smiled broadly when the king promised he would give him some training and that he would not return without Guinevere.
Merlin is quiet and pensive. He has been ever since Agravaine “disappeared” from the dungeons the día after he was imprisoned. Merlin hurried off as soon as he heard the alarm bells in the dead of night, following the hidden paths to Morgana’s hovel, lying in wait for Agravaine to emerge. He knows that he couldn’t have escaped the dungeons without Morgana’s help.
“That’s an interesting trick,” Merlin says calmly from beneath a large árbol a short distance away from Morgana’s dwelling. While he wants to find and deal with Agravaine, he does not wish to confront Morgana yet.
Agravaine jumps again, eyes searching. The voice is familiar, yet, how…
“Escaping from the dungeons like that. Unaided and all, I mean,” Merlin steps forward, cool as can be, eyes locked on Agravaine.
“Oh, silly me, I’m sure your mistress sent tu some magic beans o something to allow tu to slip away,” Merlin says sarcastically, still calm.
“Merlin?” Agravaine squints in the darkness. It is then Merlin notices some other men with Agravaine.
Helios’ henchmen, perhaps?
“Where’s Arthur?” Agravaine asks, stepping closer. “Surely tu are not out here all alone.”
“Be careful,” Merlin says, almost sadly.
“What are tu talking about? Where’s Arthur?”
“He doesn’t know I’m here.”
“Excellent,” Agravaine says, his voice oily. “That way I’ll be able to kill tu much más easily,” he says, raising his sword.
“Don’t think so,” Merlin replies, shaking his head slightly. He is still calm and unperturbed, and it is beginning to unsettle Agravaine a bit.
Agravaine steps forward, motioning that the men should follow and attack the servant. Merlin’s chin lifts an inch, his eyes flash, and the entire party is thrown forcefully backwards, many of them crashing into trees and large rocks, their necks breaking.
Merlin steps forward, towards Agravaine’s body, but stops when the older man gasps suddenly, his breath returning to him in a rush after having been knocked out.
Agravaine sits up, flabbergasted. “You have magic!”
“I was born with it,” Merlin says, a little proudly.
“You… you’re Emrys!” he exclaims.
Merlin says nothing, neither confirming nor denying.
“And you’ve been at court this whole time… at Arthur’s side… right under his nose. I am impressed. You’ve been able to deceive him all these years…” he chuckles a little now, relaxing.
“Perhaps we’re más alike than tu think,” he continues, and it is these words that are his doom.
Agravaine steps adelante, hacia adelante and holds out his hand companionably, thinking Merlin is his ally, that he is another turncoat, another one out to betray the king.
He stops short when Merlin suddenly raises his hand, palm out, his face serious. Deadly serious.
“I am not out to deceive King Arthur,” he says, his hand still raised. “I live only to protect him from traitors like you. My magic is my burden that I must bear, used only for the good of the kingdom. To protect Arthur.” Merlin’s eyes flash again, he twitches his hand, and Agravaine falls to his knees, grimacing in pain, held immobile por an unseen force.
“Grrllmmngg…” Agravaine tries to speak, but his tongue seems glued to the inside of his mouth.
Merlin takes a step forward, hand still outstretched. The closer he gets to Agravaine, the tighter he feels held.
“Yes, ‘Emrys’ is the name dado to me por the Druids,” he says, and Agravaine’s already-bulging eyes fly to his, petrified.
This is the man of whom Morgana is deathly afraid, he realizes. He also realizes why. He is hardly exerting himself, talking calmly while holding me here. I’ve seen Morgana do magic, it takes her deep concentration and focus. He may as well be picking herbs.
“You have no idea what tu are up against, Agravaine,” he says slowly and quietly, moving closer. Squeezing tighter. “And neither does Morgana.”
“Mmmrrrrnngg…”
“And I’m sorry to say that tu won’t get the opportunity to warn her,” Merlin continues, tilting his head slightly. He takes one step closer to Agravaine, whose puffy face is starting to turn slightly blue. “You now know I have magic,” he says, turning his hand again. Agravaine falls to his side.
“Unfortunately, the last thing some people, people who try to harm Arthur, learn before they die is that he is protected. por magic. By me.” He closes his hand into a fist, and Agravaine gurgles and falls still. His tongue lolls limply from his mouth and his eyes are rolled back in his head. He is a grotesque, twisted wreck of a man.
Merlin turns and walks away, back to Camelot and his bed.
“Still brooding over Agravaine’s disappearance, Merlin?” Arthur plunks down siguiente to him and asks.
“No,” says Merlin. I’m brooding over the fact that I had to kill him. “I’m just worried about Gwen. I hope she’s all right.”
“I know, I do, too. I don’t know a lot about this Helios, but the rumors I’ve heard have not exactly been heartwarming.”
“Oh? Like what?”
“You don’t want to know. I wish I didn’t know.”
“That bad?”
“He’s big. And brutish. Fights dirty.”
“You can deal with that,” Merlin says simply. “I’ve seen tu in battle enough to know.”
“One of the rumors is that he keeps his own harem,” Arthur says quietly, clearly disgusted por the concept and worried beyond measure about his beautiful Guinevere.
“No…” Merlin gasps, “No. I cannot even entertain that concept.”
“I wish I was as certain as you. o as foolish,” he says, picking his fingernails.
Merlin cannot even get his brain around Gwen being forced into… No. No. Just, no.
“Gwen is smart and strong. Resourceful,” he says.
“I know that. That is the only thing that is keeping me sane right now,” Arthur says. He stands and announces, “I’ll take first watch.”
“My lord, tu need your rest,” Leon protests.
“I seriously doubt I’ll get any sleep tonight, Sir Leon, but thank tu for your consideration,” Arthur answers, his voice a touch sad, and he walks to the edge of the clearing and leans against a tree.
“I’ll be so glad when we bring her back home,” Leon says, sitting back down.
General murmurs of agreement are heard amongst the men. Since Gwen’s banishment, Arthur has been relentless with their training, pushing them to the absolute limits, and they can do nothing about it. They’ve discussed talking to him about it, but none is Valiente enough to broach the topic, not even Leon. Not even Gwaine.
Not only that, they miss her. The knights were looking adelante, hacia adelante to having a queen who was gentle and kind, wise and calming, Valiente and good. Most of them have never known a queen in Camelot, and those that are old enough to remember Ygraine found themselves thinking fondly back to the days when a queen walked the corridors of the castle, a kind word and a gentle smile always on her lips.
“I won’t,” Elyan says quietly.
“What? She’s your sister!” Gwaine exclaims.
“Yes, but I was hardly a brother to her before she left,” he says morosely. “She’s going to kill me and she has every right to do so.”
“Elyan, this is Gwen,” Gwaine crosses to him and sits beside him. “No one is kinder, más forgiving. Okay, yeah, she may be cruzar, cruz with tu at first…”
“You have no idea, Gwaine. Have tu ever seen her get angry? Have you?”
“No,” Gwaine respuestas honestly. He cannot even fathom it, in fact.
“I have,” Merlin says, thinking back to the Lamia.
“She is tiny, but she is a force to be reckoned with,” Elyan explains. Merlin nods in agreement, remembering her cry of “Get away from him!” as she rushed forth, sword outthrust.
“She will forgive you, Elyan. tu know it deep down,” Gwaine reassures him.
“Eventually,” Elyan says quietly.
xXx
It is before dawn. Arthur kept watch the entire time, never asking for relief. Yet he is alert and sharp, outlining the plan in the center of his men.
“…And Elyan, I want tu to go here,” he points to a spot on Matthias’ map of the castillo interior, “and find Guinevere. Get her to safety.”
“Um, Sire?” Elyan asks hesitantly. “I would like to request a different duty, my lord.”
Arthur looks up, confused. “Whatever for? tu do not want to rescue your only sister?”
“More than anything, my lord. Only… I do not think she will be very happy to see me.”
“Elyan…”
“The last time we saw each other I was looking down my nose at her in disgust, Sire,” he says quietly, “instead of supporting her as a brother.”
“I will go,” Percival volunteers quietly.
“Percival, I need tu with me. I need your strength,” Arthur explains.
“Begging your pardon, Sire, but tu really don’t,” he argues, his voice gentle as always. Several of the knights chuckle at this statement. “I would like to go,” he goes on, “because I will be able to keep Gwen seguro if we encounter any opposition. Even if,” he pauses, “even if, the gods forbid, she is ill o injured and I have to carry her.”
Arthur chuckles. “I suppose tu have a point.”
“She is no bigger than a child to me, Sire, would be no burden at all,” he smiles.
And if she is troubled o scared, she will take comfort in his calm and quiet bearing, Arthur thinks. The giant man is such a puzzle, so complex, his carriage and demeanor a stark contrast to his massive size. Except on the battlefield, of course.
“Very well, then. Percival: here,” he points to the appropriate corridor on the map, “find my Guinevere and get her to safety,” Arthur says, quietly.
The sun is not yet over the horizon, but the eastern sky is growing soft and pink. The Knights of Camelot silently stream in through a hidden gate in the muro around the fortress and surround the castle, easily subduing any of Helios’ men they encounter.
Arthur, Merlin, Gwaine, Elyan, Leon, and Percival reach the hidden entrance. It is covered in ivy, almost completely obscured from view. Leon and Percival reach up and clear the vines, and Leon tries the door.
It groans quietly, but does not budge.
“Apparently this isn’t the same door Matthias used,” he mutters.
“Here,” Percival says, stepping adelante, hacia adelante again. He turns the handle, gives a shove, and with a groan, the door opens.
He grins and gestures to the door. After you, he seems to say.
“Show off,” Leon grumbles.
They slip into the back door, and Arthur consults the map again.
“All right. We need to find Helios,” he says to the men. “Percival, tu know where to go?”
He nods.
“Do tu need backup?”
“Nah,” he says, and jogs off.
“All right. Stairwell, here.” He points and gestures for them to follow. They get five steps along when the alarm bells sound.
“Damn!”
xXx
“Gven?” Frida sits up when the bells start.
“Yes, I’m awake,” Gwen says, sitting up as well. She lights a candle.
“Alarm bells. Vat is going on?”
Gwen’s corazón skips. Is it possible he got my message? Is he here? Did he strike before Helios? “I’m not sure… but…”
“Vat?”
“You remember when Morgana was here?”
“Ya.”
“And tu know how Matthias the stable boy has been missing since then?”
“Ya.” She pauses. “Gven, vat did tu do?”
“I sent Matthias to Camelot with a message. tu served that lunch; tu heard what Helios and Morgana were planning,” she says.
“Gven! Dat vas very dangerous!”
“I know, but I had to. tu know I had to.”
“So tu think dat maybe Artur is doing a… vat is called…?”
“A preemptive strike.”
“Ya.”
“I hope so.” Gwen bites her lip and looks at the door, listening for any commotion in the corridors.
“Vat do ve do?” Frida whispers, suddenly on edge.
“We get dressed.”
Percival jogs through the corridors of the castle, not bothering to be quiet anymore since the alarm bells are already sounding. He casually punches out whoever crosses his path as he heads towards the serving wenches’ quarters.
He finds the hallway, and is greeted por approximately a dozen young and beautiful faces peeking out of doors at him, bewildered.
Stopping, a bit overwhelmed, he surveys the faces. They are lovely and varied, but none are Gwen. Finally one speaks up.
“Who are tu looking for, handsome knight?”
“Gwen. I need to find Gwen, if tu please, my lady.”
“Ooo, ‘my lady,’ is it? She’s down there, the only door that’s closed,” she points.
“Thank you,” he says, but, slightly horrified, he’s thinking Holy hell, what has this man got going on here?
Gwen looks up when the knocking comes. “Gwen! Gwen, are tu in there?”
“Percival!” she exclaims, recognizing the voice. She stands and rushes to the door, flying into his arms as soon as she sees him.
Percival doesn’t even waver when her slight weight hits him. He laughs delightedly at the greeting and hugs her. “Good to see you, too.”
Gwen pulls away, blushing, then turns to Frida. “Come on,” she says, beckoning.
“Percival, this is Frida. She’s coming with us,” Gwen says definitively.
“Gven, I…” Frida says, stepping nervously adelante, hacia adelante nevertheless. Her friend is as big as the bear, she cannot help thinking. But he is gentle like the lamb. And also very handsome.
“I told tu I would make… something up to you, didn’t I? I don’t remember what it was anymore, but if tu think I am leaving tu here, my sister, tu are quite mistaken. Come on.”
Frida smiles and joins them as they step into the corridor.
Percival stops dead in his tracks at the sight of all the other young ladies now standing fully in the corridor, staring at them, fear and hope in their eyes.
He looks at Gwen. She nods, and he turns to them all. “Anyone wishing to come along is welcome. I cannot promise anything, but tu never know if tu don’t try.”
The girls all stare for a moment, and finally one says, “Truly?”
“Yeah. Come on, then,” he says, jerking his head towards the exit and starting to walk, his sword in his right hand and Gwen’s hand in his left. The serving wenches scramble for shoes and wraps and tumble from their rooms, following.
They shriek and gasp as Percival leads them along, easily felling any guards that try and stop him. At one point two guards attack, and Gwen rips her hand from his, pulls the dagger from his belt, and stabs a guard in the thigh before he is run through por the knight.
“Thanks,” he says, smiling. She hands him his dagger back. “Hang onto it for now.”
After a short time, the shrieks and gasps are replaced por appreciative murmurings. Some of the maids with stronger constitutions and competitive natures even let forth a few quiet cheers. They reach an open area near the front of the castle, and Arthur and the others are across the way. Both parties stop moving.
“Guinevere,” Arthur’s voice is quiet, but it resonates through the room.
Gwen turns at the sound of his voice, her name being spoken in that heart-stopping way, something she never thought she’d hear again.
Her eyes meet his and she gasps very slightly. Percival’s dagger clatters to the floor. Then the world goes black.
xXx
“Gwen!” Percival reaches for her, trying to cushion her fall as Arthur and the knights cruzar, cruz to them. Frida falls to her knees, pulling Gwen’s head into her lap, taking her from the large knight.
“I’ve got her, sir,” she says quietly, looking up at him, her large, bright blue eyes hitting him square.
“O-okay,” he stammers, standing slowly.
“Guinevere,” Arthur collapses siguiente to Frida, gazing down at Gwen.
He sees her betrothal ring suspended from a leather correa, tanga around her neck and his breath catches in his throat. She kept it.
“You are Artur?” Frida asks quietly.
“Yes,” he says, never taking his eyes off of Gwen, reaching out hesitantly to stroke her cheek, to try and rouse her. He thinks better of it, and drops his hand.
“I am Frida. Gven and I share a room here,” Frida says quietly. “She is not vell, sir. Her corazón is sick.” She looks boldly at Arthur. “Because of you.”
“I… I know,” he says, his voice contrite. “I will make it better. I will. I must,” he whispers, and Frida is unsure if he is trying to convince her o himself.
Gwen stirs, blinking slowly awake, and she jumps slightly when she sees how close Arthur is.
“Guinevere…” he gasps, reaching his hand out to her again.
Much to his dismay, she shrinks away from him as though she is afraid of his touch, and Frida holds her and shushes her.
“I’m sorry, Arthur, I… I can’t… not yet,” she says, her voice shaking.
“I understand,” Arthur says sadly. He regards her a moment more, noting that her beautiful soft brown eyes now appear slightly haunted and she seems to have lost weight as well. “I do not deserve your affection,” he whispers to her sadly. Only Gwen and Frida hear, and both women’s hearts break a little at how distraught he sounds.
“I missed tu so much, Guinevere,” he says, just as softly.
“I missed you, too, Arthur,” she answers, and he smiles a little. “But…” she trails off, not knowing what to say, o how much. This is not the place o the time anyway.
“I got your message,” he says. “Thank you.”
Leon clears his throat reluctantly. “Sire?”
“Go,” Gwen says, sitting up now. Frida stands and helps her to her feet, and Arthur stands and finally notices the swarm of young ladies behind Percival.
“Percival, what is all this?” he says suddenly.
“I couldn’t just leave them all there, my lord,” Percival says.
“Of course not,” he says, and the collection of girls breathes again. They don’t know who this handsome man is, but they can tell that Gwen is very important to him and that he is clearly in charge.
Arthur looks out at the sea of lovely but scared faces. “You are all Helios’ serving wenches?” he asks.
The girls all look at each other, and finally one steps forward, an incredibly beautiful, tall woman with skin like flawless mahogany, wide-set eyes and prominent cheekbones. “We are called his serving wenches, but in truth, we are his harem, my lord,” she boldly states, her voice clear but bearing an unusual accent.
So the rumors are true, Arthur realizes, and has to steel himself against the bile he feels rising in his throat. “We need to get tu all to someplace safe,” he says, almost to himself.
“Are tu all well? Able to walk a bit of a distance?” he asks. They all nod. “Good.”
Arthur looks at the Nubian beauty, the self-appointed spokesperson. She looks very intelligent and resourceful. “Head due north,” he points, “to Caerleon. queen Annis will protect you. Give tu proper jobs, most likely.”
“Queen Annis? Really?” Percival asks.
“We actually parted on quite good terms,” Arthur explains. He reaches down to his capa and tears the dragon emblem from it, leaving a slightly darker red patch on the fabric where the emblem was. He hands it to the girl.
“Give this to her and tell her King Arthur of Camelot begs her aid,” he says. “Tell her everything. Everything, do tu understand?” He knows that Annis will be incensed at Helios’ treatment of them.
“Yes,” she nods, taking the emblem and tucking it inside her tunic.
“Go. Now. If tu hurry tu can reach the border por midday,” he says.
“Thank you, Sire,” the dark beauty says, reaching for his hand and besar it. “Come,” she calls to the other girls. Frida looks at Gwen.
“You are coming to Camelot with us,” Gwen says firmly. Frida smiles brightly, and Gwen sees Percival bite back a smile as well before he turns to Arthur.
“Now what?”
“Still have to find Helios,” Arthur says.
“His chambers are at the parte superior, arriba of dat staircase, segundo door on the left,” Frida points, speaking up.
Arthur turns. “No need,” he says, as Helios has just appeared on the stairs, striding arrogantly down, sword at his hip.
“Go!” Arthur hisses at Percival, and he bundles Gwen and Frida away with him, heading the opposite direction as quickly as he can.
“King Arthur of Camelot, as I live and breathe,” Helios drawls. He reaches the bottom of the steps and snaps his fingers.
Guards appear from everywhere and immediately attack. más of Camelot’s knights also pour in, and the large foyer is suddenly a melee.
“Hold them off! Whatever means necessary!” Arthur calls. “Helios is mine!” He turns back to find Helios gone. Looking around, he sees his silhouette heading down a corridor, and he runs after.
Merlin seems to have disappeared, he finds himself thinking. Imagine that.
xXx
Merlin is, in fact, searching the castle, looking for any sign of magic, any sign that Morgana might be near. He also sets magical booby traps, things set to go off should any person not wearing a red capa – apart from himself – happen by.
An invisible muro here, an unseen tripline there. Ropes that appear out of nowhere and wind around a person’s body. Harmless-looking sticks that turn into deadly vipers. He does try to be creative about it.
He steps outside to make a circuit around the fortress, and he looks up at the sound of running feet and turns to see a sizable group of young ladies running, occasionally glancing behind them, heading north. Arthur’s sending them to Caerleon, Merlin notes. Muttering a few words, he casts a protection charm over the group, ensuring their seguro passage.
“Oi!” A voice shouts. One of the guards has spotted Merlin, a large, ugly, dirty brute with a scraggly beard and bad teeth.
Baul, the guard who almost struck Gwen in the courtyard that day. Luckily for him, Merlin doesn’t know this.
Baul charges at Merlin, and the wizard flicks his fingers in almost an irritated fashion as his eyes flash golden. Baul is thrown back against the wall. He shakes his head and gets to his feet, growling now.
All right, so that just made him mad, Merlin thinks, but still he holds his ground.
“You’re a bloody wizard!” Baul roars. “I’ll bet your king would amor to hear about—”
His words are cut off as Merlin sends a large rock flying at his head, smashing against it with a sickening crack, and Baul drops like a puppet whose strings have been cut.
“Yeah, I’ll bet he would, too,” Merlin mutters darkly, stepping over the large man’s lifeless body to continue his lap of the castle.
xXx
“Silas!” Helios commands, realizing Arthur is on his heels, and the henchman springs forward, delaying Arthur as Helios ducks into the great hall.
“Out… of… my… way… you… bastard…” Arthur growls, meeting Silas blow for blow as the guard tries to prevent Arthur from reaching his master.
Silas just grins and pulls a segundo sword from a felled comrade, swinging them both now.
“I’ll take care of this idiot, Arthur, tu go and get Ugly,” a smoky voice says smoothly from the shadows.
Silas lunges at Arthur, who ducks easily before he bounds into the great hall, calling, “Thanks, Gwaine,” behind him.
Helios was lying in wait for Arthur, just behind the doors, and he immediately attacks. Arthur is almost struck, but he leaps away just in time.
“So, King Arthur of Camelot has decided to stage an ambush,” Helios talks as he swings and thrusts his sword. “I wonder what brought on this unwarranted attack?”
“Thought I’d beat tu to it,” Arthur says. “Strike before being struck.”
“Morgana betrayed me!” he roars, thrusting again. Arthur ducks and thrusts back, just catching his arm.
“Hardly. Your serving wenches just aren’t as true to tu as tu may think,” Arthur answers, leaping away. The two men circulo, círculo one another, measuring, waiting.
“Ha!” Helios laughs.
“You were plotting with Morgana to overthrow Camelot,” he says, and Helios lunges again, slashing, missing, then jamming the butt of his sword into the side of Arthur’s knee.
Arthur grunts in pain, but keeps his feet. “I was alerted to your treachery por one of yours who is really one of mine,” he says through gritted teeth.
Suddenly the light goes on inside Helios’ brain. The sudden stomach illness that day. The furtive behavior. The noble bearing. And he was just standing with her in the foyer.
“Gwen,” is all Helios says, and Arthur flies into a rage, attacking fiercely.
“She… is… special… to… you… I see,” Helios says, meeting Arthur’s attack, now forced to go on the defensive.
“You are not allowed to speak of her!” Arthur growls, slashing Helios’ leg now.
The warlord hisses in pain, jumping back. “Perhaps it would interest tu to know, then, that I had the singular pleasure of plucking your precious flower,” Helios taunts, circling back on Arthur now.
What? Arthur feels like his world has been shifted sideways. The stone under his feet feels like loose sand, and he staggers. He cannot breathe. His corazón pounds and his head swims. His mouth opens and closes dumbly.
“Oh yes,” Helios continues, his voice low and oily, thinking he’s found the Achilles’ heel. “She was my frightened little rabbit.” He strikes, and Arthur just parries in time, staggering back again.
“But she was so good.” He strikes again, and Arthur dodges and stumbles.
“There truly is nothing so gratifying as breaking through a young woman’s maidenhead.” He punches Arthur in the ribs now, he is that close. “Knowing that tu are the only person who will ever get that pleasure.” He trips Arthur now and the king falls back against the dais at the front of the room.
Helios raises his sword. He leers at Arthur. “And she was so sweet. And so tight. And so. Scared.”
Something snaps inside Arthur, and his mortification transforms into rage. With a huge roar, he finds his feet again, pushing off the dais. He punches Helios hard in the jaw and the warlord staggers backward, surprised.
Arthur slashes his sword again and again, relentless in his attack, fuego in his eyes and in his belly. He slashes Helios in the side. He punches him again. And again. He thrusts his sword once more, and Helios falls to the floor, his sword skittering away. He does not get up.
xXx
“Bloody hell, this place is a maze!” Percival swears, finding another dead end. The map has erased itself from his brain in his efforts to find a seguro haven for Gwen and Frida, and he is lost.
“Dis vay,” Frida says, exasperated, taking Percival’s hand and the lead as well.
“Oh…” Percival says, his sword still at the ready in his other hand.
They near the hall where Arthur and Helios are fighting, stepping over bodies as they move, noting gratefully that it is overwhelmingly Helios’ men that are littering the floor.
Gwen hears Arthur’s enraged screams and she stops in the doorway just as Helios’s body falls to the floor.
Arthur stands over Helios and raises his sword.
“Arthur, wait!” Guinevere’s voice stays his hand, just before he delivers the final blow, ending Helios’ life.
“Guinevere, what…” he starts, confused, blinking out of his rage.
“Is he alive?” she asks.
“What?”
“Is. He. Alive?” she repeats slowly.
“Yes, but…”
“You see… she even wishes… to spare…” Helios gasps, trying to move.
“Shut up,” Gwen says, stomping purposefully forward. Arthur steps on Helios’ shoulder and he cries out in pain.
Gwen reaches Arthur and Helios and takes Arthur’s sword from his hand. In his surprise, he releases it much más easily than he should have.
And suddenly he understands.
“You… you…” she struggles to find her words in her fury, circling Helios like a predator, breathing heavily. Arthur wisely steps back, pulling his dagger from his belt. Just in case.
“You deplorable, evil, disgusting excuse for a man!” she yells. “Death is too good for you…” she trails off, still incensed, still panting, teeth bared.
“How dare tu treat women this way!” she screams, kicking him hard in the stomach. Helios grunts and curls into a ball.
“You are no warlord,” she says, her fierce eyes turning glassy with angry tears. “You are a coward. A spoiled little boy, a… common cur who needs to beat down on those weaker,” she kicks his back, square in the kidney, “than yourself to make yourself look bigger!” She kicks his chin, knocking his head against the stone floor. Blood starts to ooze from his mouth, his nose. He moans.
She kicks his chest, as hard as she can. “That is for all the women whose hearts tu have hardened, who will never be able to find the true amor and happiness they deserve because you’ve ruined them!”
She hunches down and punches his face, in the eye. Her hand screams in protest, having never struck the hard bones of another before, but the surprised gurgle of a grunt from Helios makes it worthwhile. “That is for Frida, for the black eye tu gave her when she hesitated using her mouth on you!”
Leon, Gwaine, and Elyan have now joined Percival and Frida in the doorway now, drawn por the sound of Guinevere’s yelling. The battle outside is over, those remaining of Helios’ men either fleeing o surrendering. They watch, dumbstruck, as their future queen rails against and beats the felled warlord. Leon watches Arthur, standing a short distance from Gwen and Helios, dagger in hand, his face a mask of disbelief, hurt, and fury. Silent tears roll down both Frida’s and Elyan’s faces.
Gwen stands and pushes Helios onto his back with her foot, walking around him again, fuming. She lifts her foot. “And this,” she jumps up and stomps on Helios’ groin with all her might, her boot smashing his soft parts, and Arthur thinks he hears a sickening pop.
Helios screams in agony, turning onto his side again and curling into a ball. The men present all wince involuntarily.
“This is for taking the only gift I had to give to my only love,” she is screaming now, tears running down her face, blind with her own fury. “For ruining my already miserable life! For ruining me!” She kicks him in the stomach again, running out of energy.
“Guinevere,” Arthur says softly.
She ignores him for the moment, and gives Helios’ head one más kick, almost idly, then she shoves his shoulder, turning him on his back again.
Exhausted, she stands over Helios’ prone body and raises Arthur’s sword, point facing down. Arthur steps forward, intending to stop her, to tell her that she doesn’t need to, he will deliver the death blow, but he no sooner takes a step when she plunges the blade straight down, burying it deep into the warlord’s chest.
There is no sound in the large room save Gwen’s soul-wrenching sobs. She withdraws the sword and tosses it aside, collapsing over Helios’ now-dead body, and proceeds to continue pummeling it with her small fists, half-formed sentences coming from her as she punches again and again as the tears continue to fall.
“How dare you…”
“The humiliation…”
“So many lives…”
“You took what was not…”
Arthur gently wraps his arms around her, lifting her from the body, pulling her away to enfold her in his embrace, grateful that she lets him.
“Guinevere,” he whispers into her hair, smoothing it, besar it, wishing he could snap his fingers and rewind the clock those many weeks. “Shh, Love, it’s over. It’s over.”
“It’s never over…” she sobs into his chest, clinging to him now, trembling, weak and spent, her knees giving way beneath her.
Arthur holds her tenderly but firmly, supporting her as she leans into him. He tries to get her to walk, but she is as limp as a rag doll. He lifts her in his arms and limps towards the door and his friends.
“Gven…” Frida whispers, still crying, reaching her hand out touch Gwen’s arm. “Tank you, Gven,” she says with a gentle squeeze, letting her hand drop again. Percival hesitantly puts his hand on Frida’s shoulder and she turns into him, her forehead on his chest as she weeps, her fingers clutching his chainmail. He slowly wraps his arms around her, gently.
“Let’s go home,” Arthur says quietly, walking down the corridor, Gwen still in his arms.
Arthur limps towards the door and the knights and Frida follow silently. None of them know what to say, having just witnessed something none of them thought they would ever see in their lifetime.
He heads out the door and looks around. It is now full morning, and the servants that do not lodge in the castillo are arriving, looking confused and troubled. They seem cheerful to receive the news from the live-in servants their master has been dispatched. Many flee in small groups, bringing with them all that they can carry.
“Where the hell is Merlin?” Arthur finally says aloud. They walk around the castillo and find him standing, staring up into the forest beyond the walls.
“Merlin,” Arthur calls. The servant turns and rushes over when he sees Gwen’s limp form in Arthur’s arms.
“Gwen!” he exclaims. “Is she…?”
“No, Merlin, simply exhausted beyond measure,” Arthur says, looking softly down at her.
She opens her eyes for a moment, sees Merlin, and smiles. “Merlin…” she whispers, trying to lift her hand.
“Hi,” he says, smiling, reaching for her hand instead, squeezing it gently. She closes her eyes again and lets her head fall back against Arthur’s shoulder.
“What have tu been doing out here all this time, Merlin?” Arthur asks. “Hiding?”
“I’ve been securing the perimeter, thank tu very much,” Merlin says, irritated.
“Oh really? por staring into the forest?”
“Keeping watch for any sign of Morgana.”
“Ah. And did tu do anything else noteworthy?”
“Killed him,” Merlin says, nodding to Baul’s prone form on the ground.
“Baul,” Frida says, impressed. “He vas big bully. Gven saved Matthias from getting beaten por him and vas almost struck herself,” she says quietly. “I hope he died badly,” she adds darkly.
“Bashed his skull with a large rock. That do?” Merlin asks. “And if he gave Gwen trouble, I’m happy to have done it, now. I’m Merlin, por the way,” he introduces himself to the strange blonde woman who seems to be clinging to Percival.
“Frida. Gven vanted me to come back to Camelot vit her,” she says, looking to Arthur now.
“Of course,” Arthur says, nodding, remembering Gwen’s words earlier when the rest of the women left. The other knights have gathered around their king now, awaiting instruction.
“Well done, men,” Arthur addresses them loudly, Gwen still cradled in his arms. She does not stir at his shouting. Gwaine and Leon both consider asking him if he would like them to take her, especially since he is limping, but they also both know what the answer would be.
“How many have we lost?” he looks to Leon.
“Um, eight, I think,” Leon says. “Won’t be able to give a full reportar till we return, I’m afraid.”
“Eight. Compared to the almost-complete annihilation of Helios’ forces, that is admirable. Collect our fallen men so that they may be honored when we return.” Arthur turns and walks back towards their camp, where their caballos are waiting.
“Arthur, what’s wrong with your leg?” Merlin asks.
“Helios got my knee with the butt of his sword,” he says casually. “Probably just bruised; I’ll have Gaius take a look at it.”
“So, Helios…?”
“Gone. Dead.”
“You killed him, then,” Merlin says.
“No. Guinevere did.”
“What?”
“It was awful, actually. Not for Helios, he deserved everything he got and more. But watching her… like that… She was so broken, Merlin…” Arthur looks down at Gwen’s unconscious form again, and the sadness and guilt in his eyes almost moves Merlin to tears.
“I don’t think I want the details,” Merlin croaks.
“No. tu don’t,” Arthur says definitively as a single tear escapes down his cheek. He has no free hand with which to wipe it away, so he simply allows it to fall unchecked.
Several of the knights see it. Not one word is dicho about it.
They reach the camp and start to prepare their horses. Merlin spreads a blanket out and Arthur reluctantly sets Gwen down to continue resting while he packs.
“She will ride with me,” he informs Merlin.
“Of course,” Merlin says. He didn’t need to be told.
“Can tu ride, Frida?” Arthur asks her.
“No, Sire, not really. Never had a need, I’m afraid,” she answers.
“She can ride with me,” Percival volunteers shyly.
“Percival, your horse can barely carry tu alone,” Arthur says.
Gwaine saunters over and offers, “You are más than welcome to share my horse, my lady.”
Frida turns and looks at this dark handsome knight. He blinks in surprise as he realizes that she is nearly as tall as he is. Before Frida can respond, Percival’s huge hand closes around Gwaine’s face and he pushes him back and away with an exasperated sigh.
“I don’t even get a chance, then?” Gwaine complains. Then he turns and walks away, muttering something about “gigantic offspring.”
Arthur notices the look on the large knight’s face as he turns his attention back to Frida and sighs. “Give your pack to Elyan, then. He can carry your things with his. That way your horse will not be over-burdened.”
“Why me?” Elyan asks.
“Because you’re the smallest. Well, except for Merlin, who already has too much to carry,” Percival grins.
“Great,” Elyan says, glancing at his sister again.
“Would tu like a moment?” Arthur asks quietly.
“Won’t do any good, she won’t be able to hear me,” he says. “But yes.”
Elyan walks to where his sister is reclined and sits on the ground. He gently cradles her head in his lap and talks quietly to her, stroking her hair. Arthur turns away, giving him his privacy, and the rest of the knights follow suit.
Once everyone is ready, Arthur goes back to Elyan. “We’re all set. Your horse has been packed for you,” he says quietly, ignoring the tears in the knight’s eyes.
“Thank you,” he says. “Let me help you.”
The two men lift Gwen to her feet. “Guinevere, we need to get tu on the horse. We’re going inicial to Camelot, Love,” Arthur whispers to her. Her eyes dazedly blink open slowly, and Arthur and Elyan bring her to Arthur’s horse, flanking her, holding her upright.
“I’ll climb up first,” Arthur says, “Percival, can tu lend a hand, please?”
Arthur climbs into the saddle, sitting as far back as he can and Percival and Elyan lift Gwen up to him. He settles her astride in front of him and she slumps back against him.
Elyan gently squeezes her knee a moment, and when she reaches down and puts her hand over his, he chokes back a quiet sob and turns away quickly to his own horse.
Percival returns to his own horse and Frida. “Sorry. I often get called upon for tasks like that,” he apologizes.
“No, tank tu for helping. I am sure Gven vould be grateful if she knew,” Frida says.
“Is… is she going to be okay?” he suddenly asks her.
“I tink so, ya. She is strong. But it vill take time. And patience. Is your king a patient man?”
“Not usually, but with her, I’m willing to wager so.”
“Good. She vill need it. She is a strong girl, but I tink her body and her mind have had all dey can take right now.” Frida glances back at Arthur and Gwen. She has been watching Arthur intently all this while, watching how his eyes grow tender and worried when he gazes on Gwen. How he speaks to her in hushed, reverent tones, even now, when she is barely conscious. How he carried her here all the way from the castillo despite his own injuries. How her name even sounds like a kiss when he says it. He truly loves her. He feels terrible about what happened, and rightly so. He wishes he could go back and undo the banishment.
“Here,” Percival says, starting to help her up to the horse. “Put your foot here… no, your other foot, sorry. Push off with this foot now, and… I’m sorry, I may have to give tu a boost from behind…”
“Okay, ready.”
“Grab here. Now push with this foot and pull with your arms and oscilación your leg over,” he says, his hands at her hips, ready to give a gentle shove to her backside should she need it.
“Whoa, good job! tu are a natural,” Percival smiles. “I guess it helps being as tall as tu are.”
She smiles a little. “Should I scoot forvard?”
“Please,” he says, then swings himself up behind her. The party had started moving already, and Percival spurs his horse into a gentle walk. “Hold on,” he says, “lean against me if tu have to.” He carefully slips one arm about her narrow waist, holding the reins with the other.
xXx
The party arrives in Camelot, riding through the lower town. Arthur in the lead, his face unreadable as the townspeople hide their gasps and mutterings as their king rides through with the woman he banished unconscious in the saddle before him.
“Is she dead?” a small boy asks, his innocence his shield.
Arthur stops his horse. “No. She’s not dead. She is sleeping deeply. She’s had a very hard day,” he tells the boy kindly.
“She can come back to Camelot?”
“Yes.”
He spurs his horse forward, his mind continuing the torrent of troubled thoughts that have plagued him for the entire trip.
Even the small children know her, and know she had been banished.
They reach the castillo and Matthias is the first to greet them. As a stable boy, it was easy for him to beg permission as soon as they were spotted.
He looks at Arthur when he sees Gwen’s unconscious body slumped against him, his eyes full of concern.
“She’s not dead, Matthias,” he says quietly. “But Helios is.”
Matthias smile weakly, still worried about Gwen.
Leon and Gwaine step over to assist Arthur with Guinevere, as Percival is busy untangling Frida from the stirrup in which her foot seems to be stuck.
Arthur dismounts now, handing the reins to Matthias, and his injured knee gives way. He wobbles a moment, then motions for Leon to hand Gwen to him.
“No, Sire. Your knee won’t oso, oso de the extra weight right now,” Leon says.
“But…”
“Don’t start actuación like a spoiled princess now,” Gwaine taunts, and Arthur closes his mouth.
“She needs to see Gaius,” Arthur says, limping deeply now.
“So do you, my lord,” Leon recommends.
“It just stiffened up during the ride. Nothing to worry about.”
“Even so.”
They make their way to Gaius’ chambers along with several other injured knights, and Merlin bustles around securing bunks for those that need – like Gwen – and bandages and other remedies that Gaius barks at him.
“Frida,” Percival asks carefully, “are tu well? Do tu have any need to see our physician?”
“I am vell, my lord,” she says quietly. “But I tink your physician might vant to talk to me. I can tell him much about vat Gven has been through.”
“Yes, that’s probably true,” he says as they walk up the stairs to the castle. “I’ll take tu there.”
“Tank you.”
They walk in silence for a bit. “I have no place to stay,” she says suddenly.
“There are many rooms here. Although…” he thinks. “Gwen’s house in the lower town has remained vacant since she left. I’m sure she would not mind tu staying there.”
“Can tu take me there later, after I see the physician?”
“Of course,” he smiles. She shyly tucks her hand into his elbow then.
They walk into Gaius’ rooms to find them already bursting with activitiy.
“Perhaps I should come back ven he is not so busy,” she says, “But I vould like to see Gven a moment.”
Percival nods and lingers outside. Frida crosses to the bunk where Gwen is lying, Arthur hovering close by, his injured leg extended before him.
“Thank you, Frida,” Arthur says suddenly.
“Sire?”
“For looking after her. It means a lot to me.”
“Ve are sisters of the corazón now, my lord. I vas there for her ven no one else vas,” she says, and he does not miss the implication in her tone, “as she vas for me.”
“Frida,” he says quietly. “You have every right to hate me. So does she. But I promise tu I will make this right. I swear on my mother’s memory.”
“Tank you, Sire. And I do not hate you. I just vant Gven to be better. And happy. I vould amor to see vat she is like happy, because even ven sad, she vas lovely.”
“I want the same thing, Frida.”
“I know dis.”
“Have Merlin find tu a cama somewhere in the castle. Any bed, even mine, I don’t care.”
“Dat is very kind of you, but Percival is going to take me to Gven’s house. I vill stay there.”
“Very well. Do let me know if tu need anything at all.”
“Tank you. I… I probably vill need vork to make some coin so I can live. I am strong and I am good vit cleaning and sewing.”
“Anything tu wish.”
She thinks a moment. “Do tu have a dairy? Vit goats?”
He puzzles a moment. “Yes. Cows, too.”
“I am very good vit the goats, Sire. Also very good vit making cheese.”
He nods. “Sounds good to me.”
“I vill be back tomorrow. Your physician vill be vanting information from me, I tink.”
“Yes,” Arthur nods, looking over at Gwen again.
Frida leans over her friend, besar her forehead once, then turns and walks back to where Percival is waiting for her.
“Arthur,” Gaius says, coming over to check his knee.
“Guinevere first. I can wait.”
Gaius knows that tone. He sighs and turns around to check Gwen. “Merlin, a splint and some bandages, please,” he calls after a few minutes.
“What’s wrong?” Arthur asks, scooting closer.
“Well, apart from a fractured hand, she seems perfectly fine. How would she have fractured her hand?”
“Punching Helios. Repeatedly,” Arthur says.
“Ah,” Gaius says, but he looks puzzled.
“You will learn everything tomorrow, Gaius,” Arthur explains, telling him of Frida and her visit the siguiente day.
“So…” Arthur says again, leading.
“She is fine, physically. She must have been through something highly traumatic, though. Her body seems to have… shut down.”
“Shut down?”
“Sometimes when a person suffers too much stress, mental, physical, o emotional, it will retreat into itself, shutting itself down as a way to protect itself. Heal. Recover.”
“So when will she wake?”
“When she wants to.”
Part 4: link