loved_by_two: (A/G Tell Me Now : Sinister_Beauty)
[personal profile] loved_by_two
The days since the battle hadn't been easy for Guinevere.

Lancelot had been hurt and was near death. Tristan had almost died, too. Arthur and his men were suffering because of a battle that they had fought for this land. They chose to stay and help her people fight the Saxons and two of their number had almost been killed.

The man who was a part of Arthur's soul was close to death.

Oh, they had never said anything and she had never doubted the things she saw in Arthur's eyes when he looked at her, but she saw more than that. She saw a dark fire in Arthur's eyes and there was a matching one in Lancelot's. These were two men who cared very deeply for each other.




These were the two men that she also cared deeply for.

As she was trying to figure this all out in her own heart and mind -- she had never heard of anyone being in love with two men and those two men having feelings for each other -- the battle on the Hill happened and two of Arthur's knights lay dying.

Well, one knight and one person who shared his heart like she did.

Guinevere didn't know the Woad that came to heal Lancelot, but like Arthur, she was going to try and have a little faith. Her father didn't know the Woad, but there was a chance he knew something that Merlin did not. It wasn't something that was a usual happening, but she needed to have faith in something. She needed to have faith that someone could help save Lancelot -- even if it wasn't her father.

She wanted to be in that room with Lancelot and she knew that Arthur wanted to as well. Both of them were told by the healer to stay away because their emotions would only make the healing that more difficult. If there was too much outside interference, then Lancelot could be lost.

She didn't like it, she didn't like the Woad, but she would do nothing to cause further danger to Lancelot; nor would she cause stress or worry for Arthur. So, while she would check in on Arthur's vigil outside of Lancelot's room, she would not intrude upon his grief or his worry.

She did her best to help work with her father on Tristan as much as they were allowed to, and she made sure that the knights all ate at least something while they waited for news. She kept a careful vigil out of sight of Arthur and the Woad in the room with Lancelot. While she wanted to be with Arthur at this time, she wasn't exactly sure that her presence would be welcome. After all, it was because of her that Lancelot had been hurt. His decision to assist in her battle was what caused the blond Saxon bastard to fire the bolt into the knight's chest. It was because of her that he was so near death and she was not. Her injuries were not small, but because of Lancelot she was still alive.

Guinevere didn't do guilt that well. She wasn't sure what she was supposed to do in a situation like this, so she did her best to make sure Arthur knew she was there for him, but she also stayed out of his way.

Meanwhile, she prayed to her gods and she talked to her people, moving among them and taking care of them like she knew. They were waiting for a celebration, waiting for preparations to be made. They were ready to crown their king -- and by that action, crown their queen as well.

But the last thing on Guinevere's mind was a wedding. She knew that was the last thing on Arthur's mind as well. Though they didn't talk to each other much right now, their minds were both too full of worry for Lancelot. She just wanted him to be healed and be able to walk with them again -- to use his two swords like he always had.

The few times she had come to the hall outside of Lancelot's sick room, the scents of the herbs and perfumes that the Woad was using on the fallen knight irritated her senses. It reminded her of how Marcus and his men had smelled before he had the priests bury her alive. She couldn't stay in that hall very long because the memories and ghosts would distract her from the reason she was there. Better that she wasn't there to show anyone what affect it had on her so that it didn't cause anyone to do something to cause a setback in Lancelot's progress.

So she stayed out of that passageway as much as she was able to -- aside from checking on Lancelot's progress and getting glimpses of Arthur. She didn't know what Arthur thought of her absence from the hallway -- or even if he had noticed. She pushed away the flicker of hurt that thought caused. He was completely focused on Lancelot surviving and she couldn't fault him for that. After all, wasn't that where most of her thoughts were centered, as well?

The days blurred together as she tried to go about her chosen tasks in the aftermath of the battle.

During the day there was the responsibility of taking care of her people that had been wounded or lost loved ones. She helped her father send the spirits of the dead to the place of their ancestors, and she gave what comfort she could to those that were left behind. She organized hunting parties to send out and made sure there were people in the kitchens so that everyone in the stronghold had plenty to eat and drink. She spent a great deal of time tending to Tristan and keeping an eye on his wounds while praying silently to her gods that he would survive. She made sure to send a tray of food and drink to Arthur, though she knew he didn't finish the food. As long as he ate at least something, she would do her best not to push at him for more. She helped take of the animals -- especially of the horses -- and she did her best to care for and educate Lucan. For some reason, the young boy had decided that he was her keeper, her champion, and she didn't have it in her heart to send him away.

It was when evening fell and everything was settling down that Guinevere had her problems.

Her own needs taken care of after throwing herself into any activity she could during the day, there was little for her to do at night but think and worry. She would walk along the wall outside until someone – or multiple people – told her that she needed to be inside to get her own rest. They kept telling her that she needed to rest.

As if she could rest when someone she cared for was fighting for his life and someone else she cared for was fighting to hold on to everything he could and make the fallen knight survive?!

Therefore, she spent her nights by the window in the room she had been given, waiting for news. And when she could, she stared out the window into the sky and prayed with everything she was that Lancelot would not die. It would kill something inside her to lose him, but it would absolutely destroy Arthur. Of that, she was sure.

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Guinevere Castus-DuLac

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