I sit on a makeshift bed consisting of bundled blankets. I tap my foot in rhythm with a dripping sound echoing through the halls outside to pass the time. The floor is riddled with yellow hay, a damp smell filling my nose because of it, suggesting the room leaks when it rains. Splendid. Little light comes into the cell, reminding me of my hate for small spaces. It's something that's plagued me since my childhood. Overhead is a barred window that will provide small light in the morning.
To keep my anxiety of small places at bay, I knit together strands of hay. I make a variety of different necklaces and bracelets, knowing this will only help for a short time. It's a horrible thought, but I'd rather get it over with and be hung than have to face my fear for long periods. No one would know on the outside that I'm having a hard time. My trained ability to contain emotion is in good use.
The knights haven't returned for a few hours. That suggests either the King doesn't wish to deal with me until morning, or he and the council are in discussion. I'd prefer plan B, so I don't have to spend over 12 hours in the cell. He may even be sending for Olaf for all I know, that being a sensible decision.
Despite knowing what is to come, I'm pretty calm about being captured. Alienation is the best thing I've ever learnt. It keeps me from being burdened with the emotions that effortlessly linger on a person. My druid upbringing had a massive effect on learning to control my feelings, of course, coming in handy. I learnt over time to put aside something as common as feelings altogether. This skill is practically something that is a part of me now.
Olaf's betrayal has woken me to my carelessness, and it's only made me hate myself more for letting another's emotions trap me. It doesn't matter now, though. Unless I can conjure up a grand escape, any future–revenge being a common one–are nothing of use. There's no point dwelling on something you can't have. I've learnt that the hard way.
Firm footsteps echo off the stone walls, catching my attention as someone approaches. My gaze immediately falls to the barred door. Leon comes into sight, his appearance now cleaner as he's now dressed in fresh attire. In hand, I catch sight of the shackles, jumping up to my feet faster than any prisoner would. This catches Leon off guard, but he collects himself.
"The King wishes to see you," he announces, unhooking the key from his belt and jerking open the cell door. I practically throw myself at Leon as he puts the shackles on my wrists, far too eager to get out of this cell. He places a firm grip around my upper arm, pulling me from the cell. He's not as harsh as the guards before, but not too soft either.
Walking at a comfortable pace, Leon led me back through the halls I had entered. We diverge into a new corridor before ascending a further flight of stairs to a new maze of hallways. I can tell by the change in furnishings and décor that we are headed for the main hall. However, that was already common knowledge.
I make sure to take note of unique displays in each hallway so I have recognition if I have the chance to escape. If. Blue vase five paces from the stairs. Candle stand 15 paces from that. Right turn. Red canvas on the wall ten paces away. Left turn.
Three other knights follow behind and alongside Leon, not taking any chances to slip up. Olaf would have warned them I tend to be slippery.
From observation and my treatment, I have concluded that Leon is a trusted knight of Camelot. This conclusion came from him having more decency than the other knights who have handled me so far. That would mean Elyan, Gwaine and Percival are also trusted. This observation is clarified by the fact the other knights are dressed differently from the first four I had met. They must be hand chosen by their king.
With that thought, I wonder what to expect upon meeting the legend that is King Arthur. I've heard many a tale of Uther Pendragon, his fear of magic making him feared by all who possess it. Anyone suspected of magic would have been killed, burnt to the steak without evidence. He was cruel, so I heard, yet nothing have I heard of Arthur.
I've only heard that Arthur is the most skilled fighter in the five kingdoms, and he is said to have a strong head on his shoulders. No one knows for sure. The King was only crowned a short time ago with his Father's passing.
Finally approaching the hall, two guards pull open the tall wooden doors. Their hinges let out a shrieking squeal from the heavy mass. Leon leads me in, the other Knights joining the crowd filling the room. This hall is smaller than Olaf's, suggesting this isn't the main throne room. The Pendragon crest hangs from the walls, creating vibrant colour in the dull room.
The Court stands together at the front, the rest of the hall filled with Arthur's most trusted knights and Noblemen wives. The few odd servants stand on the sidelines. Up ahead stands the King by his throne, looking no different to Leon, which confuses me. Arthur seems as though he could be a Knight of Camelot himself, far from a King's appearance. I also note that he can't be any older than myself, making him a younger King than most.
All eyes are again on me, following my movements while Leon leads me to the throne. I could only imagine how I look. A complete mess having had no time to collect myself over the past couple of days. Leon comes to an abrupt stop, forcing me onto my knees, which still hurt furiously. I hiss at the contact of the hard floor.
"There is no need for her to be on her knees. You can stand," King Arthur offers, addressing me after Leon.
For a moment, I'm confused. I may not be a part of society, but I know how this usually works. Realising I haven't reacted as soon as I should have, the room silent now, I quickly scramble up to my feet. The shackles shake, echoing off the silent walls. I blow a piece of hair out of my face, giving Leon a glare for his drastic action. And here I was thinking he was being nice.
Arthur looks down on me with stern blue eyes, a shade much like my own. "King Olaf sent word to Camelot that you would be roaming the forests. Tell me. What brings King Olaf to ask for my aid against a woman such as yourself?"
I shrug. "Who knows? Perhaps he got tired of the average male criminals," I poke, hiding behind my usual poker face. I observe the surroundings on the off chance I could find a way of escape.
There are two smaller wooden doors to the sides of the throne. They probably lead to the King's chambers and the guest rooms of Camelot, the other leading to either of them. There is little else in this room, a shame to me, its appearance very bare aside from the throne and crest. I note that most of the space is occupied with knights, not a very good outcome for me if I were to try anything. I wouldn't get far.
"Excuse me", the King's voice booms, catching my attention. I hadn't realised the King was speaking to me, or perhaps I didn't care too. I let my eyes fall onto the King, not showing emotion.
He stands tall, solid and reasonably fit. He doesn't have a stern face–far from it. He has a seemingly human look to him, in that you could almost pour your secrets out to him–an inviting spirit. My eyes fall to his hand, which is on his sword, not moving from it. Authoritative–intimidating to most. Not to me. My eyes flash back up to the King.
I stay quiet in everything I do, and if I ever do open my mouth, chances are I'll say something offensive.
Unimpressed by the disruptions I've coursed, the King glares down at me. "If you could be so kind as to give me the courtesy of your attention for a moment. We can get this over and done with."
"You have been found guilty of thievery and association with magic", Arthur announces. He peers down at the piece of paper with my picture held out by a man next to him for clarification.
The mention of magic makes a few people in the room restless. Magic is always considered a serious crime, and people treat it as something criminal–the worst of criminals.
I let out a chuckle. "Of course."
"You don't deny it?"
"I know I'm a thief, but I like to think I'm an honest one", I taunt. "Besides. Would it even matter if I did deny it? I think not. I'm guilty just simply because a King such as Olaf says so."
"Are you suggesting King Olaf to be a liar?"
"No, of course not. I'm just stating facts," I smirk. It's too late now. He's got me talking, which means I'll have a hard time biting my tongue.
"As an honest thief," Arthur throws my own words back at me. "Tell me. Do you practice magic?"
"No", I sneer through gritted teeth, offended by the question and the way he repeated my words. It's been some time since I had ever touched what I was born with, despising it. I'm not sure I'd even have it anymore, not that I'd wish to. Still, it appears to be the bane of my existence.
"Do you have any proof of this?"
"Do you?"
"King Olaf believes he does."
"Of course, he does."
Arthur narrows his eyes on me. I can see the confused faces in my peripheral vision, everyone looking to Arthur expectantly. This brings me a sick satisfaction that I'm making the young King frustrated. Perhaps stalling enough will give me time to devise a plan of freedom.
"I don't have time for your games", Arthur quickly replies, already on my case, his voice tired. He's probably had a long day. My grin widens with his words, now falling quiet, knowing I'll have too much fun if I don't.
A light catches my eye, casually diverting to look in that direction. A young dark-skinned woman stands to the side, a servant. Her head is hung low as she listens with curiosity. I glance down to see the silver in her hand, a tray with empty bowls and cutlery. She must have stopped midway to the kitchens to see what all the fuss was about. I feel an idea spark upon seeing the spoons and forks.
"What's your name?" Arthur asks, bringing my attention back to him.
"Edythe", I answer sweetly.
"Edythe", Arthur clarifies. "I don't wish to have trouble. I simply want peace, which Camelot has accomplished with King Olaf by her side. If he has any concerns, it would be wise for me to also. However...I believe a person should be judged based on the evidence presented and be given a chance to defend themselves. I wish to provide you with that when we return you to King Olaf."
I snort as he finishes his unnecessarily long speech. "So, you want me to confess and repent for my sins, is that it?"
"May I suggest, sire" a man to the back of Arthur's throne speaks up, stepping from the shadows. His black hair is neat over his face, his attire well kept. "Don't waste your time with this thief or your sympathy. She isn't cooperating. Send word to Olaf. Rid yourself of this burden."
I glare at the older man, almost forgetting that others in the room could speak besides Arthur. I'm stalling, and he can see that, which only pisses me off, hating people who are ahead of my game. Yet, I'm just that one step ahead thanks to the servant girl standing but a few arm lengths away.
"I understand your concern, Agravaine, but I am simply curious about why King Olaf has made such a spectacle of this woman. I've never seen someone have so much worry over a simple thief-"
"That simple thief is still standing here", I interrupt. My rude interruption gains foul glares from everyone in the room for speaking over their King. I smirk in triumph.
"How dare you speak to the King of Camelot in such a tone" the man, Agravaine, snarls.
"Agravaine, please" Arthur groans, this simple meeting turning into more than he hoped for. His attention turns back to me. "I am unsure if my faith is displaced. But I have a feeling there's more to you. I'm offering for you to state your side when faced with King Olaf because I feel as though it's the right thing to do."
"Why is that?" I demand. Why would he choose to give me a chance? I've done nothing to deserve it.
"Because you, despite having injured Sir Percival, felt remorse and helped heal him", Arthur observes. He seems sure he's onto something.
I now begin to catch where he's going with this. Arthur will argue that I may have a soft side and enough 'remorse' to try and live a normal life if given a chance and help needed.
"And what makes you think it was remorse that I felt?" I throw back, not liking that he's making me sound like a lost girl who just needs guidance.
"Why else would you have returned on your own free will? Sir Gwaine spoke of how you had the chance of escape, but stopped, willingly returning."
My jaw tenses as I'm lost for words. Usually, I have a sassy remark to make or answer questions with more questions if I'm not being good and biting my tongue. Sometimes I'll redirect the conversation the way I want it to go. Yet here I am, tongue-tied as Arthur brings out the accusations I wasn't expecting. No, I wasn't prepared for this to be part of the argument where magic is concerned.
Agravaine narrows his eyes on me. "She's lost for words."
"What aren't you sharing, Edythe?" Arthur pokes, his face lit up as he thinks he's getting somewhere. Sadly, he is, but I won't admit that out loud.
I begin to fidget with the shackles around my wrists, digging for anything in my head. If I share the actual reason why I came back, I would be dead for sure. I don't particularly want to pique King Arthur's interest, and I want him to move me to Olaf's kingdom, giving me many opportunities to escape, not questioning me, wanting to know my inner demons.
"I think you're just fishing, so you can try and get a confession from me", I retort. "I think we should leave that job to King Olaf. Don't you?"
Amused by my loss of confidence, Arthur shrugs. "If that's what you wish. Send word to King Olaf. We have the thief, and we'll be delivering her as soon as possible."
Arthur sits on his throne, Agravaine whispering something into his ear. His bluntness confuses me, thinking he would put up more of a fight. Perhaps he thinks a woman condemned to death will get desperate, pleading for help eventually.
All attention now on Arthur, my eyes shoot over to the servant girl. I narrow them on the cutlery sitting on a silver platter, singing for me to grab one. I take the opportunity, leaping toward the woman, making a scene. "May God have mercy on your souls!" everyone shrieks, a few gasps echoing through the room. I feel the cold metal, sliding it under my sleeve unnoticed.
The woman falls back a few steps, another servant catching her as Leon pries me back away from her. Arthur is now standing, shock riddling his face like everyone else. I burst out into a fit of laughter as though I just made a hilarious joke, Leon dragging me from the room. I continue to smirk, feeling the cool metal rub against my flesh.
***
The night was long, never-ending, as I had to endure my fear in the cells. I didn't care about the outcome that happened with the King, no, not at all. I was so happy that he had allowed me to escape. Arthur and the knights plan to take me to Olaf, which opens too many opportunities to make my grand move. As long as that servant doesn't notice a fork missing and report it, I should be fine to play out my plan.
I got near to no rest, but that doesn't concern me in the slightest. I've gone days without sleep and still managed to pull off the impossible like a pro. This is like a walk in the park compared.
Upon seeing Leon and Elyan in the morning, I was all too eager to get out of that cell. The sun touches the morning horizon as they lead me through the castle to the surface world. No words are exchanged in the empty halls. None of the rest of the city is awake yet to occupy the stone arches and rooms, our footsteps the only sound echoing.
The two knights lead me out of the large wooden doors into the dull courtyard. The sky harbours a hazy light preparing for the sun's glare. Once again, I have the shackles on, their weight already giving me bruises.
Already mounted on two bay horses are Gwaine and Percival. Both are dressed in their chainmail, a sword on their hips and an extra on their saddles. They hold onto another horse each. Percival looks ten times better than when I had seen him last. He's almost entirely back to health, suggesting he saw a very skilled physician.
The King stands waiting by his horse, a slim pale manservant holding onto the horse's rein in his right hand and another in his left hand. The two knights lead me down the stone stairs toward the gathered group. I catch sight of Agravaine standing off to the side, looking on to see our departure. I feel a little smug having a fuss be made over me and have an excellent escort to King Olaf. It's a nice thought.
Elyan and Leon pull me to a stop only a few feet from the King. He has replaced his casual attire for chainmail, a sword on his hip. Once again, he is very far from what I imagine a King to dress like.
"I trust you had a good stay in Camelot's dungeons", Arthur offers, his voice still deep from sleep.
A sarcastic smile takes my lips. "Fantastic."
"We ride for King Olaf's kingdom", Arthur continues, now not only addressing me but all the men surrounding. "If we stop as little as possible, we should find this trip quick."
Riding over, Gwaine leads a horse, stopping at our right. Without warning, Leon lifts me, sitting me on the horse's back, following quickly after. I groan in annoyance, already not liking being so close to the knight, reminded that I'll be stuck like this for a day or two. Arthur mounts his horse, his servant climbing onto his own. This amuses me because Arthur can't live a day or two without his servant to help him.
"Ride carefully and with hast, Arthur", Agravaine advises, voice raised. "Don't stay any longer than needed."
"Don't worry, Uncle", Arthur replies. "This should be a quick job."
With that, he reins his horse around, galloping out the gates. The knights following quickly after, Leon and myself in the centre of them.