![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
wiseheartOBSTACLES
by Soledad
Disclaimer: Arthur, Merlin and the other characters belong to the BBC. I’m just borrowing them to have some fun. No copyright infringement intended, no money made.
PART EIGHT
The visit in Lord Agravaine’s chambers served not to lay Gaius’ concerns to rest – on the contrary, he was now more worried than ever. He held out at Uther’s bedside for another mark of the candle, but then he could not keep hold on his concerns any longer. He checked on the sleeping King one last time, then he grabbed a torch and went out onto the street leading from the Citadel to the lower town.
The guards at the gate of the Citadel let him pass without questioning. They were used to him roaming the streets after curfew; there were always people, poor or rich alike, in sore need of his healing arts. And everyone knew that as long as his aching bones would carry him, he’d answer every call.
The streets were empty, like in a ghost town – which was exactly what Camelot had become in the recent days. Darkness had fallen; the Dorocha could appear any moment now, and the torch was admittedly an imperfect weapon to fend them off. But he had to make sure that Gwen was all right.
He almost reached her house when he spotted a dark shape, crumpled on the street in a pile of clothes. He could not quite determine the colour of the fabric – blue, dark grey or back… in any case, something dark – but it alarmingly reminded him of the new, warm cloak Prince Arthur had gifted upon Gwen at the onset of winter. There was even a faint silver gleam where the embroidery ought to be.
With a heartfelt groan, Gaius lowered himself on his knees next to the person lying on the frozen ground; his joints could bear less and less of such abuse as time went by. Holding the torch with one hand, he clumsily rolled the person over – and froze with shock.
It was Gwen indeed, but in what shape? Her bodice was torn; her neck, shoulders and barely covered breasts full of hand-shaped bruises and bite marks, her lips swollen. Quite frankly, she looked like an abused tavern whore. Her dress, her cloak, even her hair smelled of spilled wine.
The old man forgot about the danger threatening both of them. He gently lifted the head of the unconscious – or, more likely, stone drunk – girl, trying to clean her face with a corner of her cloak from tears, food smudges and who knew what other substances. He felt like crying, himself. What had the stupid child done? Why had she not listened to him?
The eerie scream of the Dorocha caught him unaware. He slashed with the burning torch at the dead spirit, trying to keep it from touching them, while frantically seeking for a shelter. Gwen’s house was close by, but he doubted if he could drag her in one-handedly, while fighting the Dorocha at the same time.
Fortunately, she seemed to come to, if only slowly. She tried to sit up but was clearly too drunk to do it.
“What happened?” she groaned.
“No time for that now!” Gaius hissed. “We are in dire peril. Try to reach your house any way you can; I shall protect you with what little I have at my hands.”
Gwen seemed to have difficulties understanding what he meant. The shriek of the Dorocha whooshing by, however, made her react. She crawled to her house on all fours, tossed the door open with great effort – and passed out right after crossing the threshold.
Slashing with the torch around him like a champion with a sword, Gaius slowly backed towards the half-opened door, hoping he would not stumble and fall before he could reach the safety of the house, where he would be able to make a bigger fire for their protection.
PART NINE
In the morning Gwen was still unconscious. After a close inspection, Gaius was relieved to see that she was merely sleeping out her drunken stupor and reluctantly left her behind in her house. He had duties to attend to; grim duties, but someone had to do them.
The guards of the Citadel, by Arthur’s decree, came down each morning to help him collect last night’s victims. Unlike in other mornings, though, they were uncommonly amused, smirking and whispering among themselves like gossiping fishwives. Gaius pretended not to listen – it was no fun to deal with the dead first thing in the morning – but even so, he thought he’d head the name Guinevere mentioned. Several times.
It appeared that the guards knew something that he did not. Asking them straightforward would do no good, though. He was the court physician, and while the common soldiers did respect him for his knowledge and healing skills, they were also wary about him. It was widely known that he had the Prince’s ear, after all.
He resigned to the fact that he would not learn about this new, exciting gossip – unless from Gwen herself. Which was why he skipped lunch and dragged his old bones down to her house instead. He needed to know what happened after Gwen had left Lord Agravaine’s chambers – and who participated in it… whatever it was.
This promised to be the biggest scandal since an enchanted Arthur had been caught in bed with King Olaf’s spoiled daughter, and he did not know if it could be swept under the rushes at all. Too many people appeared to know about it already – and he was not one of those people.
He hoped that Gwen would be able to answer some questions, and was greatly relieved to find her awake, if weak and confused, in her bed. She was still wearing the torn dress from the previous day and made no attempts to get up, though.
“I remember the guards walking me down the corridor,” she replied to Gaius’ question with a frown, “but then… nothing.”
“You should make a little more effort,” Gaius said grimly. “Your name seems to be in all mouths among the soldiers today. They must know something.”
“They you should ask them,” she returned petulantly.
Gaius sighed. “Unfortunately, they fall into silence in my company. Everyone knows that I’m the Prince’s trusted man… and your friend. They won’t tell me a thing.”
“Well, I cannot remember!” she said, frustrated.
“Try,” Gaius answered dryly. “Those… marks all over you, they are very… telling. Have you been assaulted by those guards?”
“No; at least I think not,” she furrowed her brow, trying to remember something, anything. “They… they invited me to the guard room… we drank some wine… spilled most of it, actually… They made me compliments on how I was now an influential woman whom even Lord Agravaine respected; and on… on…”
“On what?” Gaius pressed as she trailed off, her face flushed dark with embarrassment.
“On my breasts,” she whispered, her face burning with shame. “They complimented me on my breasts… and on my… my bottom. They wanted to… to see me, had their hands on me, everywhere…”
“They raped you?” Gaius hissed.
She shook her head uncertainly. “N-no… I don’t believe so… but we… we did it on the table of the guard room… again and again…” Suddenly, she burst out in tears. “Gaius, why did I do it? I’m not a tavern whore!”
“No, you are not,” he agreed. She might be naïve and far too sure of herself in things she should have been modest and careful, but a slattern she was not. Not usually. So why would she have a savage romp with several men she hadn’t even known before?
“It must have been the wine,” he finally decided. “They must have mingled it with something that made you willing and helpless.”
“But they drank the same wine,” she pointed out.
Gaius shook his head. “That doesn’t mean a thing. There are ways and methods to put something in a wine goblet in plain sight. There are even rings that contain liquid poison in a hole under the stone. Somebody had planned this very carefully; or else the barracks wouldn’t be buzzing with gossip already.”
“But why?” she asked. “Why would anyone want to do this to me?”
“Because the future King of Camelot might take a serving girl into his bed on a whim, but he could never marry a common whore,” Gaius said slowly, the fragments finally coming together to form a clear picture.
She gave him a wounded look. “I am not a whore, Gaius!”
“I know that, Guinevere,” he replied tiredly. “Unfortunately, after last night, no-one but me would believe it.”
“Not even Arthur?” she asked in a small voice.
“Especially not Arthur,” Gaius said heavily. “He’ll be disappointed beyond measure. He doesn’t trust easily, and such disappointments bring out the worst of him. You can call yourself lucky if all he’s going to do will be banning you from Camelot. He does not take betrayal kindly.”
“I did not betray him!” she protested; then she trailed off, uncertainly. “Did I?”
“I’m afraid that’s how he’s going to see it,” Gaius answered with merciless honesty. “And frankly, I don’t know how he could see it differently. You did sleep with Lord Agravaine’s guards; and half the town knows about it already. Even if he were inclined to forgive you, which I doubt, he could not afford to do so. He will be King, soon; and a King has the opinion of his people to consider.”
Gwen started crying again. “What shall I do now?”
Gaius took her hand and patted it gently. “There’s nothing you can do anymore, child. I’m sorry, but your bargained high – and lost. Be grateful that it happened before Arthur had defied his entire court and married you. At least you won’t be burned at the stake for adultery.”
She stared at him with frightened doe eyes. “Arthur would never do that!”
“He wouldn’t have any other choice!” Gaius’ heart went out for her, she was so well-meaning and trusting, but unfortunately, also far too simple-minded to survive in the serpent’s liar that was the royal court. “The law decrees that a Queen who soils the royal bed by adultery must burn. Publicly, to make an example for everyone. Bless your luck that you are not his Queen yet.”
“And I will never be, either,” she realized bitterly. “Not after this.”
“No,” he agreed. It was the harsh truth, but the sooner she faced it, the better was it for her. “Perhaps you should have settled for Lancelot, after all. It would have been safer for you; and he’d have made you happy. He loved you very much, you know; he still does.”
“It’s too late for that,” she said. “He’s accepted my choice and went on with his life. I cannot expect him to turn back and pick up the pieces.”
“Of course not!” Gaius exclaimed, slightly shocked by the mere idea. “He deserves better than that!”
“But what should I do with my life now?” she asked helplessly. “I cannot remain here; not when half the town already knows what I’ve done. I cannot face Arthur when he returns.”
She said when, not if. Her unbroken faith in her invincible Prince was quite touching.
“It is true, you should not stay here,” Gaius agreed. “Arthur’s enemies would try to use you to force his hand. You have become a liability. You should leave, for his sake as much as for your own.”
“But where can I go?” she asked. “If the rumours swap over the city walls, all doors in Camelot will be shut in my face; and I can’t even blame the people for it.”
“There’s only one place where you’ll be taken in, no questions asked,” Gaius said slowly. “Go to Ealdor. It lies in Escatia, where Arthur has no power to pursue you. And Hunith will give you shelter for as long as you need it.”
“She will?” some of the weight was lifted from Gwen’s heart as she remembered Merlin’s kind, hard-working mother. She had only met Hunith twice, but she liked her very much.
Gaius nodded. “Tell her I sent you, and she will. She has been very lonely since Merlin left, and she’ll be glad to have company… and some help.”
“But won’t that be the first place where Arthur would look for me?” Gwen fretted. “I don’t want to cause Hunith any trouble; and Arthur is no fool. He would know how limited my choices are.”
Gaius shook his head with a fond smile. “Hunith’s house is the last place Arthur would consider entering by force.”
“True,” she realized. “He’d never do that to Merlin.”
“Exactly,” Gaius said. “Now, why don’t you collect everything you might need in the near future while I… erm… organize a horse for you. You’ll better leave while the gossip hasn’t reached the lower town yet.”
“I… I don’t think I could ride just yet,” she admitted, deeply ashamed by the reason for it.
Gaius rolled his eyes. “I meant a pack horse, Gwen. You cannot carry all your belongings on your back. You might have a modest life, but you aren’t that poor that you could fit everything you own into a scrip. Now, go and start packing!”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
And so less than two hours later Guinevere, daughter of the late Tom Blacksmith, left Camelot through one of the lesser gates. She wore her old clothes, the ones from the time when she had been the Lady Morgana’s maid, wrapped into her father’s old, patched-up but warm woollen cloak. Her entire life was packed in the two saddlebags hanging from the back of a small, dun-coloured horse, which she led on the reins while walking just a few steps before the good beast.
Her dreams of becoming the Queen of Camelot had turned to smoke in the wind.
~The End~
Now you've had it all. Tell me what you think.
by Soledad
Disclaimer: Arthur, Merlin and the other characters belong to the BBC. I’m just borrowing them to have some fun. No copyright infringement intended, no money made.
PART EIGHT
The visit in Lord Agravaine’s chambers served not to lay Gaius’ concerns to rest – on the contrary, he was now more worried than ever. He held out at Uther’s bedside for another mark of the candle, but then he could not keep hold on his concerns any longer. He checked on the sleeping King one last time, then he grabbed a torch and went out onto the street leading from the Citadel to the lower town.
The guards at the gate of the Citadel let him pass without questioning. They were used to him roaming the streets after curfew; there were always people, poor or rich alike, in sore need of his healing arts. And everyone knew that as long as his aching bones would carry him, he’d answer every call.
The streets were empty, like in a ghost town – which was exactly what Camelot had become in the recent days. Darkness had fallen; the Dorocha could appear any moment now, and the torch was admittedly an imperfect weapon to fend them off. But he had to make sure that Gwen was all right.
He almost reached her house when he spotted a dark shape, crumpled on the street in a pile of clothes. He could not quite determine the colour of the fabric – blue, dark grey or back… in any case, something dark – but it alarmingly reminded him of the new, warm cloak Prince Arthur had gifted upon Gwen at the onset of winter. There was even a faint silver gleam where the embroidery ought to be.
With a heartfelt groan, Gaius lowered himself on his knees next to the person lying on the frozen ground; his joints could bear less and less of such abuse as time went by. Holding the torch with one hand, he clumsily rolled the person over – and froze with shock.
It was Gwen indeed, but in what shape? Her bodice was torn; her neck, shoulders and barely covered breasts full of hand-shaped bruises and bite marks, her lips swollen. Quite frankly, she looked like an abused tavern whore. Her dress, her cloak, even her hair smelled of spilled wine.
The old man forgot about the danger threatening both of them. He gently lifted the head of the unconscious – or, more likely, stone drunk – girl, trying to clean her face with a corner of her cloak from tears, food smudges and who knew what other substances. He felt like crying, himself. What had the stupid child done? Why had she not listened to him?
The eerie scream of the Dorocha caught him unaware. He slashed with the burning torch at the dead spirit, trying to keep it from touching them, while frantically seeking for a shelter. Gwen’s house was close by, but he doubted if he could drag her in one-handedly, while fighting the Dorocha at the same time.
Fortunately, she seemed to come to, if only slowly. She tried to sit up but was clearly too drunk to do it.
“What happened?” she groaned.
“No time for that now!” Gaius hissed. “We are in dire peril. Try to reach your house any way you can; I shall protect you with what little I have at my hands.”
Gwen seemed to have difficulties understanding what he meant. The shriek of the Dorocha whooshing by, however, made her react. She crawled to her house on all fours, tossed the door open with great effort – and passed out right after crossing the threshold.
Slashing with the torch around him like a champion with a sword, Gaius slowly backed towards the half-opened door, hoping he would not stumble and fall before he could reach the safety of the house, where he would be able to make a bigger fire for their protection.
PART NINE
In the morning Gwen was still unconscious. After a close inspection, Gaius was relieved to see that she was merely sleeping out her drunken stupor and reluctantly left her behind in her house. He had duties to attend to; grim duties, but someone had to do them.
The guards of the Citadel, by Arthur’s decree, came down each morning to help him collect last night’s victims. Unlike in other mornings, though, they were uncommonly amused, smirking and whispering among themselves like gossiping fishwives. Gaius pretended not to listen – it was no fun to deal with the dead first thing in the morning – but even so, he thought he’d head the name Guinevere mentioned. Several times.
It appeared that the guards knew something that he did not. Asking them straightforward would do no good, though. He was the court physician, and while the common soldiers did respect him for his knowledge and healing skills, they were also wary about him. It was widely known that he had the Prince’s ear, after all.
He resigned to the fact that he would not learn about this new, exciting gossip – unless from Gwen herself. Which was why he skipped lunch and dragged his old bones down to her house instead. He needed to know what happened after Gwen had left Lord Agravaine’s chambers – and who participated in it… whatever it was.
This promised to be the biggest scandal since an enchanted Arthur had been caught in bed with King Olaf’s spoiled daughter, and he did not know if it could be swept under the rushes at all. Too many people appeared to know about it already – and he was not one of those people.
He hoped that Gwen would be able to answer some questions, and was greatly relieved to find her awake, if weak and confused, in her bed. She was still wearing the torn dress from the previous day and made no attempts to get up, though.
“I remember the guards walking me down the corridor,” she replied to Gaius’ question with a frown, “but then… nothing.”
“You should make a little more effort,” Gaius said grimly. “Your name seems to be in all mouths among the soldiers today. They must know something.”
“They you should ask them,” she returned petulantly.
Gaius sighed. “Unfortunately, they fall into silence in my company. Everyone knows that I’m the Prince’s trusted man… and your friend. They won’t tell me a thing.”
“Well, I cannot remember!” she said, frustrated.
“Try,” Gaius answered dryly. “Those… marks all over you, they are very… telling. Have you been assaulted by those guards?”
“No; at least I think not,” she furrowed her brow, trying to remember something, anything. “They… they invited me to the guard room… we drank some wine… spilled most of it, actually… They made me compliments on how I was now an influential woman whom even Lord Agravaine respected; and on… on…”
“On what?” Gaius pressed as she trailed off, her face flushed dark with embarrassment.
“On my breasts,” she whispered, her face burning with shame. “They complimented me on my breasts… and on my… my bottom. They wanted to… to see me, had their hands on me, everywhere…”
“They raped you?” Gaius hissed.
She shook her head uncertainly. “N-no… I don’t believe so… but we… we did it on the table of the guard room… again and again…” Suddenly, she burst out in tears. “Gaius, why did I do it? I’m not a tavern whore!”
“No, you are not,” he agreed. She might be naïve and far too sure of herself in things she should have been modest and careful, but a slattern she was not. Not usually. So why would she have a savage romp with several men she hadn’t even known before?
“It must have been the wine,” he finally decided. “They must have mingled it with something that made you willing and helpless.”
“But they drank the same wine,” she pointed out.
Gaius shook his head. “That doesn’t mean a thing. There are ways and methods to put something in a wine goblet in plain sight. There are even rings that contain liquid poison in a hole under the stone. Somebody had planned this very carefully; or else the barracks wouldn’t be buzzing with gossip already.”
“But why?” she asked. “Why would anyone want to do this to me?”
“Because the future King of Camelot might take a serving girl into his bed on a whim, but he could never marry a common whore,” Gaius said slowly, the fragments finally coming together to form a clear picture.
She gave him a wounded look. “I am not a whore, Gaius!”
“I know that, Guinevere,” he replied tiredly. “Unfortunately, after last night, no-one but me would believe it.”
“Not even Arthur?” she asked in a small voice.
“Especially not Arthur,” Gaius said heavily. “He’ll be disappointed beyond measure. He doesn’t trust easily, and such disappointments bring out the worst of him. You can call yourself lucky if all he’s going to do will be banning you from Camelot. He does not take betrayal kindly.”
“I did not betray him!” she protested; then she trailed off, uncertainly. “Did I?”
“I’m afraid that’s how he’s going to see it,” Gaius answered with merciless honesty. “And frankly, I don’t know how he could see it differently. You did sleep with Lord Agravaine’s guards; and half the town knows about it already. Even if he were inclined to forgive you, which I doubt, he could not afford to do so. He will be King, soon; and a King has the opinion of his people to consider.”
Gwen started crying again. “What shall I do now?”
Gaius took her hand and patted it gently. “There’s nothing you can do anymore, child. I’m sorry, but your bargained high – and lost. Be grateful that it happened before Arthur had defied his entire court and married you. At least you won’t be burned at the stake for adultery.”
She stared at him with frightened doe eyes. “Arthur would never do that!”
“He wouldn’t have any other choice!” Gaius’ heart went out for her, she was so well-meaning and trusting, but unfortunately, also far too simple-minded to survive in the serpent’s liar that was the royal court. “The law decrees that a Queen who soils the royal bed by adultery must burn. Publicly, to make an example for everyone. Bless your luck that you are not his Queen yet.”
“And I will never be, either,” she realized bitterly. “Not after this.”
“No,” he agreed. It was the harsh truth, but the sooner she faced it, the better was it for her. “Perhaps you should have settled for Lancelot, after all. It would have been safer for you; and he’d have made you happy. He loved you very much, you know; he still does.”
“It’s too late for that,” she said. “He’s accepted my choice and went on with his life. I cannot expect him to turn back and pick up the pieces.”
“Of course not!” Gaius exclaimed, slightly shocked by the mere idea. “He deserves better than that!”
“But what should I do with my life now?” she asked helplessly. “I cannot remain here; not when half the town already knows what I’ve done. I cannot face Arthur when he returns.”
She said when, not if. Her unbroken faith in her invincible Prince was quite touching.
“It is true, you should not stay here,” Gaius agreed. “Arthur’s enemies would try to use you to force his hand. You have become a liability. You should leave, for his sake as much as for your own.”
“But where can I go?” she asked. “If the rumours swap over the city walls, all doors in Camelot will be shut in my face; and I can’t even blame the people for it.”
“There’s only one place where you’ll be taken in, no questions asked,” Gaius said slowly. “Go to Ealdor. It lies in Escatia, where Arthur has no power to pursue you. And Hunith will give you shelter for as long as you need it.”
“She will?” some of the weight was lifted from Gwen’s heart as she remembered Merlin’s kind, hard-working mother. She had only met Hunith twice, but she liked her very much.
Gaius nodded. “Tell her I sent you, and she will. She has been very lonely since Merlin left, and she’ll be glad to have company… and some help.”
“But won’t that be the first place where Arthur would look for me?” Gwen fretted. “I don’t want to cause Hunith any trouble; and Arthur is no fool. He would know how limited my choices are.”
Gaius shook his head with a fond smile. “Hunith’s house is the last place Arthur would consider entering by force.”
“True,” she realized. “He’d never do that to Merlin.”
“Exactly,” Gaius said. “Now, why don’t you collect everything you might need in the near future while I… erm… organize a horse for you. You’ll better leave while the gossip hasn’t reached the lower town yet.”
“I… I don’t think I could ride just yet,” she admitted, deeply ashamed by the reason for it.
Gaius rolled his eyes. “I meant a pack horse, Gwen. You cannot carry all your belongings on your back. You might have a modest life, but you aren’t that poor that you could fit everything you own into a scrip. Now, go and start packing!”
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
And so less than two hours later Guinevere, daughter of the late Tom Blacksmith, left Camelot through one of the lesser gates. She wore her old clothes, the ones from the time when she had been the Lady Morgana’s maid, wrapped into her father’s old, patched-up but warm woollen cloak. Her entire life was packed in the two saddlebags hanging from the back of a small, dun-coloured horse, which she led on the reins while walking just a few steps before the good beast.
Her dreams of becoming the Queen of Camelot had turned to smoke in the wind.
~The End~
Now you've had it all. Tell me what you think.
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-01 04:06 am (UTC)Do you realize that this chapter could be a short story all by itself?
I do so enjoy the way you are able to hint at things: you can say a lot without beating readers over the head as if we were idiots who need everything spelled out for us. (Perhaps you could offer an online class for other fanfic writers who need to learn that lesson. Please?) You could even leave out the last sentence because you've made it so clear through Gaius' thoughts what her fate must be. Again: wow!
(no subject)
Date: 2012-01-01 09:56 am (UTC)