The Long Road Home, Ch. 11
Only one chapter this time, and a fairly short one... because I am a tease.
Chapter 11
Arthur was growing rather fatigued, but still he pushed his horse onward toward Gleanntan. If he kept a rapid pace, perhaps he could intercept Morgana before she even made it to the chapel. What he would do after that, he wasn’t exactly sure, but he figured he would decide when the moment came. Everything - duty, honor, pride - was going to be thrown to the wind.
Reluctantly, he stopped by the river to allow his horse to drink, and took a sip from his water flask while he waited. A sound caught his attention - a drumming, like hoof beats in the distance. Perhaps it was his own heart beating from the adrenaline? It started so softly he couldn’t be sure what it was, but it grew closer, and was then unmistakable: definitely hoof beats. Arthur stiffened, and his horse nickered in recognition of the sound. Who would be traveling through this area? Someone was in fact coming down the trail, yelling, but he couldn’t make out any words. All he could see a dark spot coming at a fast clip, but it was too far away to make out who it was.
Cautiously, Arthur directed his horse back to the trail and towards the approaching rider. Instinctively, his hand went to the sword sheathed on his side. He hoped it wasn’t Renfrew or Bedwyr coming after him, but seeing one of them would be better than a person more nefarious.
At last he could make out the figure - with a familiar red neckerchief - and was flooded with both relief and irritation. “Merlin?” he shouted in disbelief.
“Arthur!” Merlin came galloping up, bouncing in his saddle, stopping his horse so suddenly that he nearly slid off. Arthur’s own mount danced beneath him anxiously at the near-collision.
“Why are you coming this way?” Arthur asked, flummoxed.
“What are you coming this way?” Merlin shot back, panting.
“Merlin, for the love of all things holy, what are you doing here? Never mind, I don’t care - I have a wedding to stop.” He truly did not have patience for such stunts today.
“That’s it!” Merlin gasped. “That’s why I’m here. You can’t stop the wedding!”
Arthur threw up his hands, exasperated. “This morning you wanted me to!” He gasped, realizing what this could mean. “Oh, God. Are you telling me that it’s too late?” Was Morgana already married?
Merlin, catching his breath slowly, shook his head. “I mean, there was no wedding. Tormod is dead.”
“What?” Arthur froze, his mind reeling. If this was some kind of joke, Merlin was going to become dragon feed the very instant they got back to Camelot. Slowly, annunciating each word, he said, “What did you just say?
“Tormod. He collapsed and died, just as the ceremony began.”
“Died?” His throat constricted, he could barely speak. What he was feeling was shock and relief and what shouldn’t be - but most definitely was - joy.
Merlin nodded.
Sweet God in heaven, the man was dead. “How is Morgana?” he croaked out.
“That’s why I came. She’s asking for you.”
That was all Arthur needed to hear. He spurred his horse into action, leaving Merlin behind in a cloud of dust.
~ * ~ *
Morgana sat in a room beside the chapel hall, with Gwen and Kian on either side of her. Merlin had gone to saddle his horse and retrieve Arthur. Most everyone else had abandoned the church to spread the dolorous news to the rest of the kingdom. Church bells began to ring a mournful tune, and the sounds of weeping came through the windows. There was no doubt the people loved this man who had been ruling over them for forty years, and felt lost without him. She shuddered.
“How are you doing?” Gwen asked kindly.
Morgana shook her head numbly. “I don’t know. I just can’t believe it.” She didn’t want to say that she was glad the king had died, at least not in front of Kian. He looked sad about the king’s death, but stayed faithfully by her side regardless.
Less than an hour ago, she was about to get married. Now, everything was uncertain, and she didn’t know what would happen to her. She assumed she would be going back to Camelot - what use could they possibly have for her now? But what would Uther do? What if he immediately found another old king or lord to marry her off to? Still, she had done her part of what he had asked. I should be allowed to chose my own future now, she thought firmly. This time, she would fight for it with everything she had. There was only one person who mattered to her right now. “I just want Arthur to get here,” she sighed.
“Merlin will catch up to him, and I’m sure he’ll be along shortly,” Gwen said.
“I’ll go outside and watch for him,” Kian offered.
She smiled her thanks, and once he was gone, she turned to Gwen and confessed. “Would you like to know how I truly feel? I feel free. Gleanntan lost their leader, but I’ve gained my life back.”
~ * ~ *
Arthur galloped into Gleanntan and straight to the stables, where he leapt down and tossed his reins to the unsuspecting groom who was standing by idly. The boy tethered Arthur’s horse next to a sway-backed nag who appeared terribly old and frail.
As Arthur made his way across the palace grounds to the castle, he encountered sheer panic in the streets. The church bells were clanging violently, people with tear-streaked faces were running about aimlessly. “The King is dead!” one man kept shouting repeatedly. “God rest great King Tormod!”
Running now, he made his way through the courtyard toward the church, where he spotted Kian pacing outside. “Where is she?” he asked, breathless. Wordlessly, Kian lead him up the stairs into the church. As they passed through, Arthur saw the king’s crumpled body on the floor near the altar, surrounded by nearly a dozen people, including a priest.
Someone has covered the body with a green cloak.
Kian led him to a small room off to the side of the main chapel, where Gwen sat next to Morgana, patting her back. The first thing that occurred to Arthur was how utterly traumatized Morgana looked - her eyes were wide and she was shaking. The second thing that occurred to him was how absolutely beautiful she looked. On any ordinary day she was breath-taking, but here - in her jewel-encrusted white gown - she was so radiant that he went numb.
Then she looked up and saw him, and her eyes lit up. “Arthur!” She flew from her chair and into his arms. Her arms were so tight around his neck that he feared he might be strangled, but it was worth it. He hadn’t expected to ever see her again, let alone touch her. God, holding her felt so right. Now that he had her back, he was never going to let her go.
She was trembling. “It’s all right, it’s over, I’m here now,” he soothed. Sensing their need for privacy, Gwen and Kian exited the room.
“It was horrible,” she whispered tearfully, burying her face in his chest. “He fell - he died - right on top of me.”
“Apparently your beauty is fatal,” he teased.
She looked up at him, a little shocked. “It’s not funny. I mean, I’m not sad that he is dead. And that makes me feel terrible.”
He sighed, hugging her again. “You’re not terrible, you’re human. Anyone would feel the same as you… I feel the same as you. I’m just sorry I didn’t put a stop to this a long time ago.”
“You couldn’t possibly have. Besides, I wasn’t going to go through with it. I was going to run.” She clenched her jaw, and he saw in her eyes that fire he loved - and missed - so much.
“You were? Because I was on my way back to get you. I almost ran smack into Merlin!” They laughed - how appropriate that they each had a similar, last-minute plan.
Hearing footsteps approaching, they broke apart just before Tavis entered the room. He eyed them strangely, perhaps even suspiciously. “Feeling better, Sire?” he asked Arthur.
“Yes, actually,” Arthur snipped. “It seems my fever has passed.”
“I spoke with the secretary,” Tavis added sternly. “Due to the King’s most untimely and tragic death, all agreements for this marriage are now excused. And I suppose the dowry doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Of course the dowry doesn’t matter. Camelot will have no obligation to pay for a marriage that didn’t happen,” Arthur snarled.
“What of Gleanntan?” Morgana interjected, trying to distract and diffuse the tension between the two men. “Who will be the new ruler?”
“The new king will be Tormod’s nephew, and his wife will be our queen.” He then added dismissively, “You should return to Camelot at once, as we won’t have any place for you here.”
Arthur wondered if the people expected Morgana to be sad about this. Being more polite and restrained than he had ever seen her, she merely nodded and said, “I understand. Thank you.”
Tavis started to leave, then added over his shoulder, “To stay longer is pointless. If they see you two together, people may talk.” Arthur detected a note of softness in his voice, as if the arrogant man actually had a heart after all. “I’ll see to it that Kian and Adara have your belongings packed and brought to the cart.”
No sooner was Tavis gone than a breathless Merlin appeared. “I’m back,” he announced, looking from Morgana to Arthur and then groaning. “But I have a feeling it won’t for long.”
“You’re wiser than you look,” Arthur quipped. “You need to go pack our bags, and tell Bedwyr and Renfrew to do the same. We’ll leave for Camelot as soon as possible.”
Merlin moaned. “But I’ve just got back from riding an hour each way. I’m positively saddle sore and winded.”
“We’ll only ride for a little while tonight,” Arthur promised. “We’ll set up tents as soon as it gets dark. But the sooner we leave, the better.”
“Merlin, will you ask Gwen to help Adara with my things?” Morgana added. “And to get Delia? And could you ask her to bring me my riding gown and cape? I certainly can’t travel back to Camelot in this heavy dress.”
Merlin wearily nodded, and with a sigh that was just slightly dramatic, trotted off to his duties.
When he and Morgana were alone again, Arthur noticed a fresh wound on her chin. “You’re hurt, Morgana. Are you feeling okay?”
She nodded, brushing off his concern as she frequently did. “It’s just a small cut, I’m fine. I’m just... overwhelmed. What a waste of time, waste of a trip all this way.”
Smiling, he gathered her into her arms. Arthur was quiet for a moment, savoring the familiarity of her, feeling immensely grateful to the fates for this turn of events. Then his eyes settled on the old priest who was standing by aimlessly in the chapel. A thought occurred to him, a thought so bold and brilliant and perfect that he almost fell to his knees.
“Perhaps all is not lost,” he told Morgana with a grin, cupping her chin and caressing it with his thumb.
“What do you mean?” she asked curiously.
He raised an eyebrow. “The priest hasn’t left yet. There can still be a marriage today.”
--
Chapter 12 here: http://a-boleyn1230.livejournal.com/139335.html#cutid1
Chapter 11
Arthur was growing rather fatigued, but still he pushed his horse onward toward Gleanntan. If he kept a rapid pace, perhaps he could intercept Morgana before she even made it to the chapel. What he would do after that, he wasn’t exactly sure, but he figured he would decide when the moment came. Everything - duty, honor, pride - was going to be thrown to the wind.
Reluctantly, he stopped by the river to allow his horse to drink, and took a sip from his water flask while he waited. A sound caught his attention - a drumming, like hoof beats in the distance. Perhaps it was his own heart beating from the adrenaline? It started so softly he couldn’t be sure what it was, but it grew closer, and was then unmistakable: definitely hoof beats. Arthur stiffened, and his horse nickered in recognition of the sound. Who would be traveling through this area? Someone was in fact coming down the trail, yelling, but he couldn’t make out any words. All he could see a dark spot coming at a fast clip, but it was too far away to make out who it was.
Cautiously, Arthur directed his horse back to the trail and towards the approaching rider. Instinctively, his hand went to the sword sheathed on his side. He hoped it wasn’t Renfrew or Bedwyr coming after him, but seeing one of them would be better than a person more nefarious.
At last he could make out the figure - with a familiar red neckerchief - and was flooded with both relief and irritation. “Merlin?” he shouted in disbelief.
“Arthur!” Merlin came galloping up, bouncing in his saddle, stopping his horse so suddenly that he nearly slid off. Arthur’s own mount danced beneath him anxiously at the near-collision.
“Why are you coming this way?” Arthur asked, flummoxed.
“What are you coming this way?” Merlin shot back, panting.
“Merlin, for the love of all things holy, what are you doing here? Never mind, I don’t care - I have a wedding to stop.” He truly did not have patience for such stunts today.
“That’s it!” Merlin gasped. “That’s why I’m here. You can’t stop the wedding!”
Arthur threw up his hands, exasperated. “This morning you wanted me to!” He gasped, realizing what this could mean. “Oh, God. Are you telling me that it’s too late?” Was Morgana already married?
Merlin, catching his breath slowly, shook his head. “I mean, there was no wedding. Tormod is dead.”
“What?” Arthur froze, his mind reeling. If this was some kind of joke, Merlin was going to become dragon feed the very instant they got back to Camelot. Slowly, annunciating each word, he said, “What did you just say?
“Tormod. He collapsed and died, just as the ceremony began.”
“Died?” His throat constricted, he could barely speak. What he was feeling was shock and relief and what shouldn’t be - but most definitely was - joy.
Merlin nodded.
Sweet God in heaven, the man was dead. “How is Morgana?” he croaked out.
“That’s why I came. She’s asking for you.”
That was all Arthur needed to hear. He spurred his horse into action, leaving Merlin behind in a cloud of dust.
~ * ~ *
Morgana sat in a room beside the chapel hall, with Gwen and Kian on either side of her. Merlin had gone to saddle his horse and retrieve Arthur. Most everyone else had abandoned the church to spread the dolorous news to the rest of the kingdom. Church bells began to ring a mournful tune, and the sounds of weeping came through the windows. There was no doubt the people loved this man who had been ruling over them for forty years, and felt lost without him. She shuddered.
“How are you doing?” Gwen asked kindly.
Morgana shook her head numbly. “I don’t know. I just can’t believe it.” She didn’t want to say that she was glad the king had died, at least not in front of Kian. He looked sad about the king’s death, but stayed faithfully by her side regardless.
Less than an hour ago, she was about to get married. Now, everything was uncertain, and she didn’t know what would happen to her. She assumed she would be going back to Camelot - what use could they possibly have for her now? But what would Uther do? What if he immediately found another old king or lord to marry her off to? Still, she had done her part of what he had asked. I should be allowed to chose my own future now, she thought firmly. This time, she would fight for it with everything she had. There was only one person who mattered to her right now. “I just want Arthur to get here,” she sighed.
“Merlin will catch up to him, and I’m sure he’ll be along shortly,” Gwen said.
“I’ll go outside and watch for him,” Kian offered.
She smiled her thanks, and once he was gone, she turned to Gwen and confessed. “Would you like to know how I truly feel? I feel free. Gleanntan lost their leader, but I’ve gained my life back.”
~ * ~ *
Arthur galloped into Gleanntan and straight to the stables, where he leapt down and tossed his reins to the unsuspecting groom who was standing by idly. The boy tethered Arthur’s horse next to a sway-backed nag who appeared terribly old and frail.
As Arthur made his way across the palace grounds to the castle, he encountered sheer panic in the streets. The church bells were clanging violently, people with tear-streaked faces were running about aimlessly. “The King is dead!” one man kept shouting repeatedly. “God rest great King Tormod!”
Running now, he made his way through the courtyard toward the church, where he spotted Kian pacing outside. “Where is she?” he asked, breathless. Wordlessly, Kian lead him up the stairs into the church. As they passed through, Arthur saw the king’s crumpled body on the floor near the altar, surrounded by nearly a dozen people, including a priest.
Someone has covered the body with a green cloak.
Kian led him to a small room off to the side of the main chapel, where Gwen sat next to Morgana, patting her back. The first thing that occurred to Arthur was how utterly traumatized Morgana looked - her eyes were wide and she was shaking. The second thing that occurred to him was how absolutely beautiful she looked. On any ordinary day she was breath-taking, but here - in her jewel-encrusted white gown - she was so radiant that he went numb.
Then she looked up and saw him, and her eyes lit up. “Arthur!” She flew from her chair and into his arms. Her arms were so tight around his neck that he feared he might be strangled, but it was worth it. He hadn’t expected to ever see her again, let alone touch her. God, holding her felt so right. Now that he had her back, he was never going to let her go.
She was trembling. “It’s all right, it’s over, I’m here now,” he soothed. Sensing their need for privacy, Gwen and Kian exited the room.
“It was horrible,” she whispered tearfully, burying her face in his chest. “He fell - he died - right on top of me.”
“Apparently your beauty is fatal,” he teased.
She looked up at him, a little shocked. “It’s not funny. I mean, I’m not sad that he is dead. And that makes me feel terrible.”
He sighed, hugging her again. “You’re not terrible, you’re human. Anyone would feel the same as you… I feel the same as you. I’m just sorry I didn’t put a stop to this a long time ago.”
“You couldn’t possibly have. Besides, I wasn’t going to go through with it. I was going to run.” She clenched her jaw, and he saw in her eyes that fire he loved - and missed - so much.
“You were? Because I was on my way back to get you. I almost ran smack into Merlin!” They laughed - how appropriate that they each had a similar, last-minute plan.
Hearing footsteps approaching, they broke apart just before Tavis entered the room. He eyed them strangely, perhaps even suspiciously. “Feeling better, Sire?” he asked Arthur.
“Yes, actually,” Arthur snipped. “It seems my fever has passed.”
“I spoke with the secretary,” Tavis added sternly. “Due to the King’s most untimely and tragic death, all agreements for this marriage are now excused. And I suppose the dowry doesn’t matter anymore.”
“Of course the dowry doesn’t matter. Camelot will have no obligation to pay for a marriage that didn’t happen,” Arthur snarled.
“What of Gleanntan?” Morgana interjected, trying to distract and diffuse the tension between the two men. “Who will be the new ruler?”
“The new king will be Tormod’s nephew, and his wife will be our queen.” He then added dismissively, “You should return to Camelot at once, as we won’t have any place for you here.”
Arthur wondered if the people expected Morgana to be sad about this. Being more polite and restrained than he had ever seen her, she merely nodded and said, “I understand. Thank you.”
Tavis started to leave, then added over his shoulder, “To stay longer is pointless. If they see you two together, people may talk.” Arthur detected a note of softness in his voice, as if the arrogant man actually had a heart after all. “I’ll see to it that Kian and Adara have your belongings packed and brought to the cart.”
No sooner was Tavis gone than a breathless Merlin appeared. “I’m back,” he announced, looking from Morgana to Arthur and then groaning. “But I have a feeling it won’t for long.”
“You’re wiser than you look,” Arthur quipped. “You need to go pack our bags, and tell Bedwyr and Renfrew to do the same. We’ll leave for Camelot as soon as possible.”
Merlin moaned. “But I’ve just got back from riding an hour each way. I’m positively saddle sore and winded.”
“We’ll only ride for a little while tonight,” Arthur promised. “We’ll set up tents as soon as it gets dark. But the sooner we leave, the better.”
“Merlin, will you ask Gwen to help Adara with my things?” Morgana added. “And to get Delia? And could you ask her to bring me my riding gown and cape? I certainly can’t travel back to Camelot in this heavy dress.”
Merlin wearily nodded, and with a sigh that was just slightly dramatic, trotted off to his duties.
When he and Morgana were alone again, Arthur noticed a fresh wound on her chin. “You’re hurt, Morgana. Are you feeling okay?”
She nodded, brushing off his concern as she frequently did. “It’s just a small cut, I’m fine. I’m just... overwhelmed. What a waste of time, waste of a trip all this way.”
Smiling, he gathered her into her arms. Arthur was quiet for a moment, savoring the familiarity of her, feeling immensely grateful to the fates for this turn of events. Then his eyes settled on the old priest who was standing by aimlessly in the chapel. A thought occurred to him, a thought so bold and brilliant and perfect that he almost fell to his knees.
“Perhaps all is not lost,” he told Morgana with a grin, cupping her chin and caressing it with his thumb.
“What do you mean?” she asked curiously.
He raised an eyebrow. “The priest hasn’t left yet. There can still be a marriage today.”
--
Chapter 12 here: http://a-boleyn1230.livejournal.com/139335.html#cutid1