The Long Road Home, Chs. 7 & 8
Because everyone keeps asking, and complaining about the sadness (sorry!), I will post an sort of outline of what is ahead:
Chapter 7 & 8 - warm fuzzies + humor
Chapter 9 - you will hate me
Chapter 10 - story climax/aka you will love me forever
Chapter 11 - more loving me will happen
Chapter 12 and on - drama, smut, fluff, ultimate resolution
In hindsight I realized I am dragging this out too long, but I was just telling the story as it came to me. *shrug* As I've been saying, it will be worth it. :) Also, there seems to be some issues with spacing when I copy/paste. Sorry about that.
Chapter 7
The first day of travel progressed smoothly, and fortunately the weather was fair - the sky was clear, and the temperature was warm but not uncomfortably so. As daylight faded, the weary party stopped for the night at a spot near the River Eilatan. After the horses were watered and tethered, firewood was gathered and tents were erected for the night.
As darkness fell, Morgana sad huddled in front of the fire. The men were putting the last touches on the tents and securing everything for the night. In any other circumstance, she would thoroughly enjoy such an outing. It was a break from the confinement of court life - a chance to get dirty and experience nature, which was something that rarely happened. There had been a time when she and Arthur were twelve, when after much begging of Uther, he had the servants build a tent and small fire behind the castle, just below the window of his chamber. All night, under the watch of the guards and probably Uther himself, they had giggled and told stories and eaten teacakes stolen from the palace kitchen.
If only things were so carefree now, Morgana thought with a sigh.
Gwen came and sat next to her, a bowl of pottage in her hands. “You should eat a little,” she suggested gently. “The journey is hard, you’ll need to stay strong.”
Morgana winced at the scent of food. “My stomach can’t bear it, I’m afraid.”
“Have some water, then, at least.” Gwen passed her a flask, and Morgana drank reluctantly.
The men soon joined them around the fire. Few words were spoken as the travelers savored the welcome heat. Arthur was being distant, and though it hurt her a little, she knew it was his own self defense mechanism. His face, illuminated by the fire light, looked weary and creased with stress. His heart was breaking, her heart was breaking, and there was nothing either one of them could do about it… at least not without disastrous consequences.
Morgana lingered there until the fire was dying, and the men had retired to their tents with murmured goodnights. Renfrew and Bedwyr were sharing a tent, as were Arthur and Merlin, with herself and Gwen being in the last one. Tired but not ready to submit to sleep, she reluctantly joined Gwen along with Delia in the tent, settling down between blankets.
“Are you warm enough?” Gwen asked. “The ground is rather cold.” Delia was curled up between the two women, her tail thumping vigorously. For such a pampered dog, she was enjoying this experience.
“I’m perfectly comfortable,” Morgana assured her, forcing a smile. “Let’s try to get some rest. Tomorrow will be another long day.”
Less than an hour passed and she was still awake. She felt anxious and restless, despite being mentally and physically exhausted. Perhaps a short walk will be calming, she thought. Judging by the low, even breathing, Gwen was already asleep. Creeping out of the tent as quietly as possible into the moonlit night, Morgana strode out of the camp site and over to the river’s edge.
She sat down and kicked off her shoes, so she could dangle her feet in the water. It was chilly, and the shawl she was wearing did little to protect her from the night air. It was worth it, because sitting here, feeling the current against her ankles and looking up at the stars, she felt so close to the earth itself. There was comfort in that, knowing that she was a part of the elements -- there was energy in this ground. Such thoughts would have her condemned back in Camelot, she knew.
For awhile Morgana sat enjoying the fresh air and solitude. Suddenly, she heard the crackle of limbs and sensed movement behind her. Whirling around, she instinctively reached for a nearby branch to defend herself from whatever lurked there. She was both relieved and irritated to see Arthur creeping towards her. “You startled me!” she snapped.
“It serves you right. You’ll catch your death out here.” As he plopped down next to her, he nodded towards her bare feet in the water. “It’s positively freezing.”
Reaching into the water with a cupped palm, Morgana playfully splashed Arthur’s leg. “The water feels fine. See?”
He made a face at her as he rubbed his now-damp trousers, causing her to laugh. “Well, you shouldn’t be out here alone. It’s my job to look after you on this trip. I have to deliver you in one piece… one thawed-out piece.”
“I can take care of myself,” she declared proudly, lifting her chin. “I don’t need anyone to look after me.”
“Believe me, Morgana, I have no doubts about that.”
“How did you know I was out here, anyway?”
He shrugged. “I was awake… I heard you leave your tent, so I followed you.”
She glanced over at him. “Oh. You couldn’t sleep either?”
“No.”
They settled into a comfortable silence. That was the thing about them - they were content to just be together, even with no conversation. Everything was so natural and effortless between them - as though they were elements themselves, earth and water, rushing together. Morgana positively ached to crawl closer to him, to rest her head against his chest, watch the stars and listen to the water. But she knew better, she knew that she had to wean herself off of him, in order to make the transition - the loss - easier. As it was, it would be like having her beating heart ripped out of her chest.
“We should get back,” Arthur said, a hint of reluctance in his voice.
“I guess so.” She should try to sleep, for another long day of travel awaited them tomorrow.
This was nice, she wanted to confess to Arthur, but didn’t. He stood up, then offered her his hand as she pushed to her knees. She took it, and the shock of his skin against hers - something that was usually so delicious and desired and frequent - made her lungs seize up. How was she ever going to manage without his touch?
They walked back to the campsite, and just before going their separate ways, he touched her arm gently. “Goodnight.”
“Goodnight,” she whispered, sliding back into her tent. Gwen was sleeping deeply, and Delia stirred slightly when she noticed her mistress’s return. Running her fingers through the dog’s hair, Morgana laid awake for awhile longer before finally settling into an uneasy sleep.
* ~ * ~ *
Arthur grimaced in pain as he awoke the next morning. He was a strong, physically fit man, but spending all day in the saddle yesterday - not to mention a near-sleepless night lying on the hard ground - had left him sore. He should have gotten some arnica powder from Gaius before the trip, he figured. Besides, being cramped in next to Merlin in the tent hadn’t helped. His servant’s arms and legs sprawled out while he slept, no doubt leaving bruises on Arthur.
The group was busy milling around, picking up from last night and getting ready to depart again. As Arthur strapped the saddle on his horse (forgiving Merlin the chore because he was busy hitching the stubborn pony up to the cart), he noticed that Morgana looked exhausted - her eyes were puffy and red rimmed, her face pale. She obviously hadn’t slept much, if at all. She was sitting on the edge of the cart, stroking Delia as the pup licked her face. He deeply wished he could make her feel better, and take away the agony she was enduring. He helped her mount her own horse, and they embarked on another day of travel.
Despite the light rain that fell on them for most of the day, they continued to make good progress. It was a fairly smooth, straight journey, following the River Eilatan north through open valleys. Everyone was damp and cold by the time they stopped to set up camp once again. Fortunately, the clouds had drifted away and the skies looked clear as the sun began to set.
“We’ll reach Gleanntan in the morning,” Arthur explained to everyone after dinner, tracing his finger over the wrinkled map. “If we leave at dawn, I expect we’ll make it there within two hours of travel. I suppose they’ll be expecting us.”
Later, as everyone was readying for bed, Arthur pulled Merlin aside. “I need a favor, Merlin.”
Merlin rolled his eyes - which was really insubordinate, come to think of it - and quipped, “I really should start keeping count of these favors. What is it?”
Ignoring the jab, Arthur lowered his voice. “Look, after Bedwyr and Renfrew retire for the evening, I want you to bed down in the cart.”
“You want me to sleep in the cart?” Merlin looked as though Arthur had asked him to sleep in a pit of snakes. “Why?”
“Shh, keep your voice down,” Arthur hissed as glanced around. “I want you to sleep there, because Morgana will be in my tent tonight.”
“No, I can’t do that,” Merlin replied, his eyes widening.
Arthur tried to reason with him. “The rain has stopped, now it’s a nice night. You’ll be fine. Take some blankets and move the crates aside, and you’ll have plenty of room. Then I won’t have to be assaulted with your kicks all night.”
Merlin shook his head warily. “What I mean to say is, it’s highly inappropriate for you to share a tent with Morgana, considering she is betrothed-”.
Arthur sighed. “Yes, I’m well aware that she is betrothed, Merlin. That’s why I am trusting only you with this.” He looked into his servants eyes, confiding in him. “I’m not going to do anything with her, believe me, I just want to make sure she gets some rest. This will be the last time I can ever be alone with her. Do you understand?”
Acknowledging his master’s plight, Merlin relented. “All right. I’ll do it.” He glanced nervously at the sky. “I just hope the rain stays away.”
Arthur patted his back. “Thanks, Merlin. I owe you for this.” A grunt was his only response.
He wasted time by doing menial chores until the knights disappeared into their tent. Merlin was putting a layer of blankets down in the cart, when Arthur snuck up behind Morgana and took her hand. “Come with me,” he said.
He saw Merlin peeking up suspiciously over the side of the cart as he lead her away. Really, did he think Arthur was going to ravage her?
As they ducked inside his tent, Morgana looked at him curiously. “What do you think you are you doing?” she asked, her eyes dancing.
Answering only with a smile, he pulled her into his arms as they lay down on the blankets. She did not protest, nor push for explanation, but snuggled into his embrace. “Mm. Now I see why Merlin was banished to the cart,” she murmured.
“I want you to stay with me tonight,” he told her. “One last time.”
Not more than a few minutes after they had settled in, a sudden downpour of rain exploded from the skies. Morgana tensed. “I’d thought the weather had changed for the better. Poor Merlin! He’ll be soaking wet.”
“Don’t worry about Merlin,” Arthur remarked, rubbing her back. “I’ll bet he was in the tent with Gwen as soon as the first raindrop hit.”
She giggled. “Delia won’t be pleased, but I suppose that’s his best option. Imagine the look on Renfrew and Bedwyr’s faces if he had gone crawling in next to them.” They both laughed at the idea of Camelot’s noble knights spooning with Merlin.
The patter of rain on the canvas tent was soothing. Despite being alone together, their usual physical desires were squelched by the fatigue and the heaviness on both their minds. Arthur instead ran his fingers through Morgana’s silky hair, wanting to savor everything about her - her scent, the feel of her skin, the sound of her voice - because she would soon be gone from his life.
“Do you remember how disgusted you were when I first came to live at Camelot?” she asked.
“Yes. I remember when Father told me you were coming to stay, and I wished Gorlois had a son instead, so I could have a playmate. You know, instead of a vile girl.”
She poked his chest playfully. “I see you’ve changed your mind about that... though it certainly took you long enough.”
He squeezed her slightly. The memories between them were numerous, countless. She was a part of his history and always would be.
“Arthur?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t want tomorrow to come.”
He could tell by the pitch of her voice that she was close to crying. He pulled her even tighter into his chest, kissing her forehead. “Nor do I. Let’s pretend the sun won’t rise.”
Tears filled her eyes. “Never. It won’t. I won’t allow it. I’d rather live forever in night with you, then share the sun with anyone else.”
And so they laid awake for hours, talking about childhood memories or just savoring the time quietly, avoiding the situation at hand. They both drifted off in the wee hours, and woke when the last star had disappeared. Unfortunately, all too soon, the sun did rise.
Arthur stirred as Morgana slipped from his arms, feeling the loss of her body against his most painfully. She no doubt wanted to avoid the questioning glances if anyone realized where she had spent her night.
He followed her out of the tent, finding that the morning air was thick and damp, but rays of sun were peeking through, and the color of the sky was lightening. No one else was awake yet, but the horses whinnied when they spotted him. It wouldn’t be long now before the rest of the party was up, and they were on their way yet again. Gleanntan was waiting.
Morgana looked back at him, her voice barely audible. “Thank you for this night. I’ll treasure it always.”
* ~ * ~ *
Merlin was the first to spot the turrets of Gleanntan’s castle, peeking out above the treetops. Morgana leaned forward in her stirrups, trying to get a better view. It wasn’t as pretty as Camelot’s castle, she decided. Long and dark in color, it looked more stuffy and foreboding than welcoming, but perhaps she was biased. As they rode closer, she could see the rows of neat cottages in the outlying village. It was still morning, and smoked churned out from the chimneys of homes where families were no doubt sharing breakfast.
Several men working in the wheat fields noticed them, and Morgana heard shouts. “The new queen has arrived!” one called to another. Within minutes, people were coming out onto the street to watch and wave as they passed. It was strangely touching, as unhappy as she was to be here, to hear the excitement of the people. They didn’t even know her, but they were already showing kindness and admiration. She forced herself to wave at the quickly gathering crowds as they cantered by.
As they approached the gates of the castle itself, two armed guards waved them in to Gleanntan’s courtyard. Muttering sarcastically to herself, Morgana declared, “Home sweet home.”
Chapter 8
Arthur sat up straight in his saddle as they entered the courtyard at Gleanntan. His official duty, he knew, was to serve as ambassador from Camelot and a representative of his father. Never mind that his heart was breaking - he couldn’t show weakness in another kingdom, even if it was an ally.
“Look,” Morgana called just as Arthur spotted the short, dopey servant pacing on the steps of the castle. “There’s Kian!”
As they rode up, the boy grinned and waved. “Welcome to Gleanntan. I’m glad to see you made it safely.” He looked behind him anxiously as a team of servants, dressed in the Gleanntan livery of green and white, came forth and began unloading their luggage. “My master shall be here any moment, I assure you, he just is running a bit late this morning.”
Gwen hopped off her horse and immediately fetched the crate Delia was hiding in, before any of the servants spied the dog. The crate was draped with a cloth so they could smuggle her safely into Morgana’s chambers without suspicion.
Arthur dismounted and, after helping Morgana down from her horse, passed the reins to Merlin. “Find a groom to take the horses to the stables,” he instructed. “And make sure they are bedded down nicely and have fresh water.” Secretly, Arthur was grateful that Merlin was here with him - there was no one else he would rather have with him, although he would never admit it.
“Well!” a voice called. “If it isn’t the delegation from Camelot!”
They all turned to find that smarmy Tavis had arrived, wearing that ridiculous looking cap and smiling a crooked grin. He bowed to Arthur, and then to Morgana. “You are lucky, my Lady, to have such a company escort you. His Majesty is most excited to meet you at last.” Then he moved closer to Arthur, speaking low. “Do you have the dowry?” he hissed.
“Of course I do,” Arthur replied tersely. “And your king shall receive it at the wedding ceremony. The money shall stay in my safe-keeping until then.” He gestured to the horse Merlin was untying from the rear of the cart. “I’ve also brought this palfrey, which my father, King Uther, has sent as a gift to your king.”
“She is breath-taking!” Kian exclaimed, reaching out to pat the mare’s silky mane. “I’ve never seen such a fine horse in this kingdom.”
With one quick movement, Tavis popped Kian across the head. “Boy! What have I told you about running your mouth? Go make yourself useful and help with the horses.”
The awkward young servant ducked away, more embarrassed than hurt, but Morgana fixed Tavis with her steely gaze. “When I am queen,” she seethed, “you will not be allowed to do that.”
Arthur bit back a smile, himself having known what it was like to be on the receiving end of Morgana’s anger. Even from the way she bugged him about his treatment of Merlin (which wasn’t bad at all, come to think of it), he guessed that servants in Gleanntan would find a new friend.
Tavis cleared his throat, obviously not used to being spoken to by a woman in such a strict manner. “Well, now that they have unloaded your cart, please come in the castle. I’ll show you all to your rooms. Kian will show your manservant up after the horses are stabled.”
Arthur, Morgana, Gwen, Bedwyr, and Renfrew followed the ambassador into the castle. The inside of the reflected the same feel as the exterior - austere, unyielding, and old-fashioned. Arthur knew he was biased and would naturally hate this place, but he wasn’t that impressed. Camelot was much nicer. Tavis led them through a great hall, where courtiers were milling about and whispering to each other while staring at the newcomers. Well, they were mainly staring at Morgana. He couldn’t blame them - even after a long journey and little food or sleep, Morgana exuded grace and poise.
They continued up a swirling staircase, where the walls were covered in portraits from rulers of Gleanntan throughout history. The faces of many old men stared at them as they climbed, and Arthur shuddered. It was eerie, not to mention just plain morbid, to hang on to the past so tightly.
“Ah, here we are.” Tavis pointed to one doorway. “These rooms have been provided for you, Sire,” he explained to Arthur. “And the quarters behind them are for your knights.” Bedwyr and Renfrew took their bags into the room, but Arthur continued down the hall as Tavis showed Morgana and Gwen the official Queen’s Chambers. This was something he was curious to see. A row of servants marched by, toting boxes and materials brought by Morgana from Camelot.
Tavis opened the door and swept his arm across the expanse of it. The floor had been buffed to a shine, and maroon curtains bejeweled with pearls hung from the windows and canopy bed. “May I present, the Queen’s Chambers. We’ve chosen these rooms for you, my Lady, because of the spectacular view,” he announced proudly. “You’ll be able to watch the sunset over the forest each night.”
“It’s lovely,” Morgana murmured unconvincingly, her face turning noticeably paler as she walked to the bed and sat down. Arthur wondered what good it was to watch a sunset, when there was no one to watch it with?
The last of the luggage was stacked in the corner, and Gwen immediately began to unpack.
“I’ll leave you now to get organized,” Tavis said, as he and Arthur prepared to leave them. “Is there anything you’ll be requiring? Perhaps my manservant can fetch you something to eat? My Lady? Sire?”
Morgana only shook her head, perhaps unable to speak. “We’d all like to rest,” Arthur explained, knowing that food was not on any of their minds. “It’s been a long journey.”
“Of course.” Tavis nodded, then bowed to Morgana as the men left.
In the hall again, he turned to Arthur. “There will be a reception tonight, and there the Lady Morgana shall be formally presented to King Tormod. As her brother, it will be your honor to introduce her.”
Arthur growled, “I am not her brother!” What would it take to get this through these people’s heads? Was the lot of Gleanntan thick?
“Oh, that’s right, forgive me, Sire.” Tavis flapped his hand dismissively. “She isn’t your sister. Yes, well, you’ll still have the privilege of introducing her to the king.”
“I’ll be looking forward to it,” Arthur lied. He retreated gratefully to his room, glad to see that Merlin hadn’t arrived yet. He needed to just breathe, in order to process everything that was happening. It seemed unreal, like he was in a nightmare and would wake up... wake up with Morgana in his arms. But no.
Grunting in frustration, he crossed the room and opened a window, gazing down below. It was turning into a lovely day. A grove of apple trees had blossomed recently, and the air smelled fresh and sweet. Just outside he spied a chapel, with beautiful arches and pillars outside. His stomach dropped when he realized what would happen there. There, Morgana would be united with some old king, passed to him like property, and forced to swear fidelity and love to him.
Damn, he needed a drink. Arthur grumbled in annoyance when he picked up a pitcher and found it empty. Was it too much to ask to have ale waiting in the rooms for guests? Well, as soon as Merlin showed up, he would send him off to find some. For now, he kicked off his boots and stretched out on the bed. At least their beds are comfortable here, he thought. Drowsiness drifted over him slowly, like a fog, and he drifted in a semi-conscious state.
Before long, he heard cries coming from the hallway. He sat up in bed, fully alert now, listening. There were more cries, and the voice was most definitely Gwen’s.
“You can’t, your Majesty!” Arthur made out the words clearly this time.
A raspy voice answered her, indecipherable, to which he heard Gwen say, “My Lady is recuperating from her long journey! She is not decent for receiving people at the moment, your Majesty.”
Your Majesty? Oh bloody hell! Arthur leapt out of bed, stepped into his boots, and yanked open his door to find Gwen, wide-eyed and frantic. She was standing in Morgana’s doorway, attempting to bar the way. In front of her was a stooped-over old man dressed in elaborate robes and balancing shakily on an ivory cane.
King Tormod, Arthur knew immediately. Apparently the old goat had gotten word of their arrival and was overly anxious to meet Morgana. He had to diffuse the situation, for her sake. At his approach, Gwen looked utterly relieved, and the king turned to him. Arthur cringed inwardly at the sight - and the stench. Poor Morgana.
“Your Majesty,” he said, putting on the charm and showing his best smile. “How lovely to meet you. I am Prince Arthur of Camelot.” He bowed low because the king was almost shrunken in appearance.
Tormod nodded, a slight smiling crossing his face, his bleary eyes peering at him. “Ah, Uther’s son. I haven’t seen you since you were a boy. Back then he was even bragging about your sword skills. I hear you’ve won many tournaments since then.”
“My father sends his respects.” Arthur bowed his head respectfully. “As to the Lady Morgana, as her maid said, she is quite tired from the trip. We’ve only just arrived within the last hour. I expect she’ll be ready to receive you later, at the reception this evening.”
The ancient man shook his head, losing patience. “I’ve waited for weeks, and I will not wait any longer! I have every right to inspect my future bride.”
The temper tantrum was almost humorous. Arthur continued to try to placate the king. “And I’m sure she’ll be happy to meet with you in a few hours.”
Growing more irritated, Tormod tapped his cane harshly on the floor. “I said, I will see her! Now!”
A breathless, huffing Tavis appeared. “Whatever is the ruckus about? I heard shouting from the floor below.”
Tormod pointed a bony finger at Arthur, then at Gwen, who made a hasty retreat back inside the room. “These people are trying to prevent me from seeing my new queen.”
Arthur held up his hands, helpless. Obviously there was no way he would prevent this, but at least he had stalled the king long enough to allow Morgana a few moments of preparation. “By all means, I do not wish to prevent you from doing anything.”
Tormod grumbled something inaudible, then opened Morgana’s chamber doors and hobbled inside. He slammed the door shut behind him.
* ~ * ~ *
Morgana stood staring at the creature before her, unable to speak. He was shorter than her, his muscular structure shriveled with age and he trembled with each step he took. His wig was oily and unkempt beneath his crown. When he smiled, he showed teeth that were blackened between, and a string of drool occasionally slipped down onto his jowls.
He opened his mouth to speak, but then fell into a great coughing fit. After a few moments, he was able to force out, “Greetings, Lady Morgana.”
Gathering her composure, she remembered to bow. “My Lord,” she said. Feeling exposed in her plain riding gown, she added, “Forgive my appearance, sire, I was unaware of your coming so soon and didn’t have time to dress more appropriately.”
He waved his hand. “No matter. Soon we will be husband and wife. We will have nothing to hide.” He studied her closely. “You are darker than I thought. I was expecting a maiden more fair.” Then, shrugging, he said, “but any maiden suits me.” His putrid breath drifted over to her, and her already-sensitive stomach lurched.
Tormod continued talking. “I am not a young man, but I hope we will have time to produce several children together. As you may know, I am in need of an heir.” He looked her over in a way that made her most uncomfortable, circling her like a wolf on a young fawn. “Yes,” he mused. “Your body is lovely. I suspect you will breed easily.”
The urge to reach out and slap his face was almost overwhelming. To speak of her like that!
Leaning heavily on his cane, he hobbled over even closer to her. Delia, now running circles around Morgana’s feet, began to growl. He clucked his tongue, waving his cane at the little spaniel. “We do not allow animals in the castle here, My Lady. They bring filth and pestilence. See to it that a servant finds a spot for it in the hounds’ kennel.”
Morgana protectively scooped up Delia, handing her to Gwen. “She goes where I go,” she declared stubbornly. Perhaps it was wrong to argue with her future husband within moments of meeting him, but she would not back down on this issue. “She was raised indoors and to confine her to a kennel would be cruel. She is far cleaner than... than many people.” Than you, she almost added.
Ignoring her, or perhaps not able to hear her, he simply stepped so close that she could see the curly hairs growing out from his nostrils. Morgana looked away uncomfortably. Roughly, he grabbed the chain that was around her neck and pulled it out from the top of her gown. She winced, almost afraid that he was going to slap her.
“What is this old thing?” he demanded. “Why are you not wearing the fine jewels I sent you?” God, the man smelled horrible. Did he never bathe?
Her mind raced as she struggled to come up with an explanation for Igraine’s ring. How could she explain it? She hadn’t even thought of it, not thinking that he would be searching every inch of her body. “That necklace,” she said, “is from my late father, Gorlois. The ring was his… it’s all I have left of him.” She forced a smile. “I didn’t dare wear the amazing jewels you sent me during the trip, My Lord, for fear I would lose them.”
This seemed to pacify the old king. He nodded, started to say something, but then was cut off by another violent round of coughing. This time, he with withdrew a handkerchief from his pocket, and with a wet sound, spat into it. She shuddered in revulsion, silently cursing Uther for condemning her to this. It made her want to vomit, the idea of that old man doing things to her. She imagined she would probably just lie there, and wait for it to be over. How different her first experience would be, compared to what she had imagined it might be like with Arthur. When he touched her, she felt alive; whereas the idea of Tormod touching her made her want to die.
A knock sounded on the door, startling Morgana and making her jump slightly. She would welcome just about any company at this point.
“Enter,” Tormod said in a raspy voice.
Tavis, along with Arthur and Merlin, joined them in the room. “I trust you have been acquainted somewhat?”
“Yes,” Tormod said. “I shall leave you now, my Lady, and we shall spend some time together tonight at the banquet.” Without another glance at her, he hobbled away slowly, hacking all the way.
As he passed through, she purposefully made eye contact with Arthur. Save me, she thought. Morgana was a strong, proud woman, but if there was ever a time she felt like a damsel in distress, it was now.
Chapters 9 & 10 here: http://a-boleyn1230.livejournal.com/138810.html