Forget This Love

Chapter 3

"You're awfully quiet today, my lady." Gwen said, twirling a lock of Morgana's hair around her finger.

"Hm, I'm feeling thoughtful." Morgana mumbled in return, her eyes still fixed through the window on the courtyard below, where the Knight Captain, Sir Leon was mounting his horse. As he placed his foot in the stirrup and swung himself up onto the black geldings back, his vermilion cloak billowed in the breeze and his golden curls shook like a glorious mane about his bearded face. For a moment, Morgana allowed herself to imagine Gwaine in Leon's place, tossing the dark waves of his hair, his knight's chain mail glinting in the sun. The day was warmer now that the sun was properly up and she shook away any remains of the cold which still clung to her earlier when she had encountered the lone stranger for the second time.

"You look rather dreamy." Gwen laughed, teasing out a strangled lock from Morgana's pale neck.

"I do feel...wistful."

Gwen smiled, cheekily.

"Does it involve a certain dark stranger riding through the woods on his trusty white steed?"

Morgana whipped round to stare at Gwen. How did she know? Had she seen her sneaking from the castle.

"Oh don't look so worried. I dream the same dreams as every other girl, though different we may be."

At this Morgana relaxed, knowing that her friend was only teasing her. Running an ivory comb through her Lady's long locks for the final time, Gwen smoothed and patted until Morgana's hair was perfect. Wiping her hands quickly on her apron, she then proceeded to take the shopping basket and unpack it on the oak trestles. Gathering the food onto a tin tray and unwrapping silks and cloths, she busied herself while Morgana continued to sit at the window. She took the large bouquet of flowers from the basket too and neatly placed them in a vase which she set on top of her Lady's dresser before carrying away the tray of food to store in the kitchens. Returning, she saw the wrapped smoked salmon still in the bottom of Morgana's basket. Sighing and lifting the fish out, she felt a bump under the fold in the paper wrapping so she gently prised he sheet open. Tucked under the fold of paper was a little white daisy, the stalk still attached to it.

"My lady, I think this is yours." Gwen smiled, passing the flower to Morgana. Turning, she looked startled at the daisy.

"Is it?'

"Well, I don't think it's mine." Gwen laughed in reply and handed the flower to Morgana. Walking briskly out of the room with the smoked salmon, Morgana was left sitting with the daisy in her hand. It was just like the one in her cloak just the day before. Once again, she slipped the second daisy beneath her feathery pillow beside the other one, which was slightly squashed. Sitting down on the bed, she thought about Gwaine, his difficult life as a traveler and what debt Uther Pendragon should owe him and his family. She wandered if his story was true.

Gwaine strolled peacefully past villagers returning home for the night, houses with their shutters being bolted, the doors locked and the windows shut. Husbands went indoors from a long day of work, their wives greeting them as their children skipped about laying the tables with pewter plates. The apricot gold of the sun was just sliding behind the cliffs and mountains, nocturnal birds waking and hooting in anticipation for the hunting night ahead. Everything seemed perfect, happy, joyful. The same as it always should be. In the inclosed town beneath the castle, everyone was safe, well-fed, content. Because of the king and his son, who cared for and protected the people of Camelot, not a single person starved, was injured without help from the court physician, Gaius, or was left to die alone and in agony. Life here was good for all. But as Gwaine reached the hay stack where he had slept the night before, he saw a lone figure sitting where he had sat.