Swinging his leather sack over his shoulder and lifting his sword in one hand, Gwaine brushed a few last strands of straw from his worn clothes and with stiff muscles, crawled out from behind a hay cart past several stalls, out into the open road. Other early risers were bustling about, unhindered by the chilly frost which clung to everything in it's grip, Gwaine included, as he sauntered casually over the dust track, running his scarred fingers through his unruly dark hair, tossing it wildly out of his twinkling eyes. Oh, how he loved his nomadic life. Once more, he would move on from village to village, city to city, camping in wood clearings and sheltering under trees, sleeping against walls, lying in ditches. This was definitely the life.
Breathing in a gust of the cool clear morning air, the lone traveller with his few possessions went about his business stocking up on the little food inside his sack by using some of the few coins he possessed to buy bread and cheese. Stopping at the stall where the Lady Morgana had stood only the day before, he purchased a lilac blue shirt, thin and of low quality but safely in his budget and slipped it within his sack too. Sauntering casually down the dust track, Gwaine took his empty deer skin pouch from his coat and began to fill it with water from a well, splashing water on his face and running wet hands through his tousled hair.
Feeling refreshed and slightly more prepared for the brisk frosty morning, he took a long sip of cold icy water from the filled pouch and dumped his things down by a row of trestle tables and unwrapped the newly-bought cheese from his leather bag, hungrily tearing away chunks of bread from the stiff loaf but effortlessly remaining calm and composed even as his empty stomach grumbled. He wouldn't make himself look like a starving beggar. The days spent within the forests had brought Gwaine wild game such as hare, deer and (he had to admit) a stolen leg of ham from an out-skirting farm. Berries, chestnuts, mints, herbs and roots accompanied his scarce food stash and he had often spent a night, his snores blocked out by the growls of his stomach. However, years of hard living and food shortage had taught him to eat little and often, though on several occasions, there was nothing to eat at all.
Gwaine rewrapped the remains of the cheese and loaf and buried them in his pack before ducking swiftly behind a bench as four Camelot patrol soldiers marched past him. He knew very well that his kind were not all to welcome here. He waited until they'd wandered off into the distance before cautiously emerging from his hiding place. Gathering his belongings, he carried on uphill towards the the south wall steps, wanting to reach the top to get a better view of his surroundings, perhaps map out his next destination and the best route to the next city. Clambering steadily up the flagstone steps, Gwaine thought how merry and carefree his life was even though it was hard. No rules and regulations, nothing false. He was a blunt and true man and cut straight to his point. No messing. He would never stay in one place for two long. Travel and survive. Eat and survive. Until now. Gwaine could feel the reluctance in his steps as he ascended the stairs. How could one girl he hardly knew turn his world so upside down. but he felt drawn to her. Her beauty. Her innocence.
At that moment he knew immediately that he would not leave Camelot until he had spoken to her. Perhaps she was the one to change his life. maybe this abrupt diversion was what he needed.
Morgana slipped cat-like from her chamber and down the corridor, pulling her hood up so as not be so easily identified is she were to be seen. Sneaking out of the castle was difficult, especially for the king's ward. Cloak billowing as she hurried down a tight passage she ducked low when she emerged into the open air on one of the castles walk-ways. Skipping neatly down a spiral staircase, she pushed open the little door at the bottom and let herself out into the city again. Once more, the bustling villagers and workers went about their business like good folk and not much attention was drawn to her as she strode gracefully along the cobblestones. The grey surroundings of Camelot were nothing to her, boring and bleached of colour, pigeons and uninteresting creatures flapped and rushed about, dead to the onslaught of the crowds. This odd stranger who had turned up out of the blue seemed the only bright side of her boring home; she wondered if he was still there. Morgana tried persuading herself that she was really just out to escape the dullness of her locked up life, to stretch her legs and get a breather but her heart told her otherwise. It pounded in her chest so loud and hard she was worried that passers-by would be able to hear it and think she was having a heart attack and attempted to resolve this by clutching her hand to her heart.
If she were to see him again, she was sure she would faint. Something about him lured her to him but common sense drew her to cold tingling excitement mixed with a good quantity of perplexed fear and worry. The sleepless night she had endured only hours ago helped little with her fluttering emotions. Smoothing her dress and pulling down her hood, she continued to act composed but she could feel red hot pouring into her cheeks as she looked up at the south wall.
There he was.
Leaning boldly against the low terrace of the stone south wall walk way was the stranger she had met the day before. From where he stood, Morgana stared up at him as if he were an angel up in the heavens and she felt a small smile spread fondly across her face as she watched him feed a pigeon with crumbs of bread. She was glad he hadn't yet seen her. It gave her eyes time to linger upon his hunky frame and though his arms were covered entirely by his leather hide jacket, she knew that the arms concealed beneath it were strong and muscled. For a moment, Morgana looked blissfully on up at the traveller but suddenly she seemed to snap out of her daze, angry with herself. What a fool she must look! How could she possibly let herself fall for a stranger. Diverting her gaze from the lone figure sprawled lazily against the wall, Morgana swept on through the crowds.
She wandered around stalls, buying things she didn't really need, ivory combs, trinket boxes, jewelled chalices, cloths and ribbons, an apple and a flask of wine. Passing the small fat lady at the cloth stall from the day before, Morgana nodded politely and continued to pace the market square. Should she talk to him. Would he even be interested in her. Was she in love with him? Shaking her head vigorously, she hoped desperately that her heart was not deceiving her. She couldn't possibly fall for a man she barely knew. In fact she hadn't even spoken to him. But another part of her longed to be in love with this mysterious dark stranger who looked both roughened by his tough life but elegant and beautiful with his waves of dark hair and penetrating eyes. He moved with a grace so unlike any other, casual but uplifted as if he were walking upon clouds, his arms swinging to the motion, his bag and sword in it's sheath by his side. She dreamt of a life where she rode a black steed, beside her wild but graceful lover, her own being filled with spirit and her life as wild and free as bird's.
Caught up in her daydream, Morgana had not realised that she had been obliviously ascending the steps to the south wall until she was only metres from the stranger.
"It's not a good place to be caught up in your dreams, this high up."
Startled, she turned abruptly, colour flushing her pale white cheeks.
"Didn't mean to scare you; simply didn't want you to walk right off the edge of wall." he continued.
He spoke with a deep but youthful voice, slightly accented but full of truth and mirth and loyalty. Feeling stupid, Morgana quickly answered with "No, I was merely wondering what would be for...lunch."
"You eat lunch this early?" he questioned, amused."Well, the sun's be up only a few hours."
Feeling even more of an idiot than she had before Morgana flushed scarlet.
"You look sick." he remarked."Are you alright."
Seeing a way out of her awkwardness and stupidity, Morgana stated simply "I'm not all too good with heights."
Chuckling, the stranger, held out his arm to her and she gingerly placed a hand on it. Escorted gently along the walkway, Morgana began to feel less light-headed and the more and more nervous she felt. What if someone saw her with him? Would she get in trouble? Would he get the blame? What if the king saw?
On reaching the bottom of the steps, she hurriedly withdrew her hand from his muscled arm and avoided his gaze.
"What's a pretty girl like you doing out in a crowded market square? In that dress too."
Morgana couldn't help but smile. She wished so badly to tell him why she'd come in the first place and alongside that, she wanted to ask him in return why a handsome man like him and ended up a nomad, a poor lonely traveller. Instead, she just smiled sweetly and held up her basket for him to see that she had been buying products.
"That's a lot you've got there. Need some help getting it back home? Where'd you live?" he asked, taking the basket from her.
"I live in the...castle. And thank you...but I'm not in any need of help, though your kindness is greatly appreciated." she replied, retrieving the basket.
"Well, it is a pleasure to meet you. I'm Gwaine."
Nodding politely and smiling, Morgana bobbed her head and turned to go.
"Wait, you haven't told me your name yet!"
She turned around again to face him.
"I'm the Lady Morgana."
Staring him the eye, she saw his face turn to shock, then horror, then hatred.