A few minutes later, he leads them into the room where Aileron and Gorlaes are consulting with Kim. Brendel turns to Jen and her companions as they enter and says, "We have been granted aid beyond measure."
Arthur is tracing the map, examining the roads and rivers between Brennin and Andarien, when the door opens. Beside him, the King and Chancellor of Fionavar look up from the map and turn.
Arthur does not. Something -- the quiet murmur of a voice in the hallway, perhaps, or the faint smell of lavender entering the room -- tells him who has come. He leans on the map table.
"This is Arthur Pendragon," Brendel continues, "whom Kimberly has summoned for us. My lord Arthur, I would present to you--"
Arthur must look up, now, and he does. He has nothing to spare for Kimberly, whom he knows, or Paul and Jaelle, whom he has not. All his attention is on the third woman. She is pale, distant, but still golden. He loves her, of course, and he always has, in all the lifetimes that he has known this Guinevere. A curse lies between them, though, and has always lain there. In one world, in one life, I killed the children.
Everyone in the room is still, watching the ancient tragedy play out. Arthur has forgotten there is an audience.
"Oh, Guinevere," says Arthur Pendragon.
(There is another Guinevere, he remembers. The triad names three great queens of Arthur. Only one of them is here, though, and he loves her. "Oh, my very dear."
Her heart feels as though it will beat out of her chest.
With the name comes a sudden explosion of light and love and desire and memories (of Camelot, of the abbey, of her home, of a path in the hills covered in snow). This is who she is; there, across the room, is where she belongs.
Then another memory, another explosion. Rangat's fire climbing to block out her sight of heaven, and green light, and Rakoth's red eyes and severed hand and black blood burning her body.
All she has to do is cross to the table to come to Arthur's sheltering love -- but the Unraveller lies between them.
Comments 8
Arthur does not. Something -- the quiet murmur of a voice in the hallway, perhaps, or the faint smell of lavender entering the room -- tells him who has come. He leans on the map table.
"This is Arthur Pendragon," Brendel continues, "whom Kimberly has summoned for us. My lord Arthur, I would present to you--"
Arthur must look up, now, and he does. He has nothing to spare for Kimberly, whom he knows, or Paul and Jaelle, whom he has not. All his attention is on the third woman. She is pale, distant, but still golden. He loves her, of course, and he always has, in all the lifetimes that he has known this Guinevere. A curse lies between them, though, and has always lain there. In one world, in one life, I killed the children.
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And then Brendel names him, and he turns, and the room goes very, very quiet. She can hear her own heart suddenly beating harder.
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"Oh, Guinevere," says Arthur Pendragon.
(There is another Guinevere, he remembers. The triad names three great queens of Arthur. Only one of them is here, though, and he loves her. "Oh, my very dear."
Reply
With the name comes a sudden explosion of light and love and desire and memories (of Camelot, of the abbey, of her home, of a path in the hills covered in snow). This is who she is; there, across the room, is where she belongs.
Then another memory, another explosion. Rangat's fire climbing to block out her sight of heaven, and green light, and Rakoth's red eyes and severed hand and black blood burning her body.
All she has to do is cross to the table to come to Arthur's sheltering love -- but the Unraveller lies between them.
Reply
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