Reclaiming England. (Nano Novel 2016)

Chapter Twenty-One: Anguish

A/N Please don't kill me, I like being alive.

       

The sight of a single horse on the horizon filled Guinevere with fear. Shetook a breath, trying to calm herself. It didn't mean anything – he was just anoutrider. That's all. She hurried down, hoping – fearing – the news he brought.

He galloped into the caught yard, swaying slightly in his saddle. He was exhausted and obviously wounded.

  "What news do you bring?" the queen asked. She had already lost Arthur – due to a forged letter by Morderd, she didn't want to lose him again.

  And yet, part of her almost hoped for his death – if Arthur no longer lived, she was free to be with Lancelot.

  No. She refused to think like that. Arthur was her first love; she didn't want to be disloyal to him after his death.

   "Morderd and his armies have been defeated," the knight said, straightening himself on the saddle. Guinevere recognized him as Sir Bedivere, one of the Round Table knights.

  "And Arthur?" she asked, not sure if she wanted the answer.

   "I'm sorry milady," Sir Bedivere said, shaking his head.

   Guinevere covered her hand with her mouth, turning away and fighting back tears. She didn't want this. Sir Bedivere let her grief for a second before speaking again.

   "Milady," he said gently, and she nodded, taking a breath and wiping her face.

   "Thank you for bringing the news," she said, standing tall.

   The knight bowed, slipping off his horse and beginning to lead it inside the palace. He turned back, saying – nearly as an after thought  - "Lancelot will arrive shortly, he was too late to air Arthur."

   Lancelot. Part of her wanted to see him, to find comfort in his strong arms, to bury her face in his chest. But she felt guilt whenever she thought of him. If it hadn't been for her and Lancelot, Arthur would never have left England, and Morderd would never have tried to take the throne. This was her fault.

  "Thank you," she said quietly, unsure if Sir Bedivere had heard her. She didn't want to see Lancelot again – yet. An idea came to her, one that took root and grew. She would become a nun, and spend the rest of her days in prayer. He would come for her, she knew that. But she would not return to him – she would send him back to France and live the rest of her days in her guilt.

   It didn't take long until Masters returned, only a few minutes. Maria stood at once, and she scowled.

   "On your feet, move out," the soldier said, gesturing with her gun. "Ryan wants to see you."

     Maria and Lance helped Callum to his feet, and they moved back through the halls.

   This time, Kingsly was outside, in a large garden. Arthur stood before him, two guards flanking him, his hands tied. Katrina stood to one side, playing with her braid nervously.

   "Well then. Here is your motivation," Kingsly said, a delighted smile breaking across his face. He stepped forward, examining the three newcomers for a moment. Maria scowled, looking him in the eye – he was slightly smaller than her.

  He turned back to Arthur and smirked.

   "Well then, Pendragon," he said scornfully, flicking a riding crop against his boot. "Shall we try this again?"