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Story Notes:

This is my first attempt at Arthur/Gwen fanfic and I'm trying my hardest to do justice to my love for the characters, and for mythology in general. Many of you might notice several influences that I will attest to: Tolkien, various poets, pop-music, Marion Zimmer Bradley's "Mists of Avalon" etc etc.
All feedback/reviews are deeply appreciated and much needed!




Author's Chapter Notes:

 




Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.


"Milady, you will be seen!" Aili hissed, her eyes wide and nervous in the pre-dawn dark. She watched anxiously as her mistress, lady Guinevere of Eirinn, hastily pulled on her heavy dressing gown."And what if I am?" Guinevere whispered fiercely, fastening the raw silk ties around her shapely waist, "The last I looked it was no crime to breathe fresh air."Aili bit her lip, but said nothing. As the King's ward, Guinevere's person was zealously guarded by the Crown, even more so since she reached marriageable age. Wandering by the seashore at dawn was certain to incur the King's wrath, and as her handmaiden Aili knew she would not escape chastisement.As though reading her mind, Guinevere placed a reassuring hand on the girl's arm "Don't worry, Aili," she smiled, "I promise to return before anyone notices," she paused, and her voice lowered "You will be held blameless if the King finds out, I will make sure of it," and the earnest light in her eyes quelled some of Aili's nervousness. Her mistress maybe prone to more acts of rebellion than Aili was comfortable with, but her kindness and compassion more than compensated.

Still, as she watched her lady's form slip quietly out the doors, her fears returned in full force, and she found herself cursing the hooded messenger who had awoken them just before dawn, bearing a letter from the distant kingdom of Camelot.

Getting past the early guard was not a struggle; where quick feet and stealth failed, Guinevere had found that a strategically deployed gold coin procured her passage. Finally beyond the castle walls, she hurried down the pebbled pathway leading to the shore, the scent of sea-air quickening her heartbeat like wings. The breath of the ocean caught in her dark hair, streaming the heavy loose curls off her shoulders, and Guinevere felt the tense knot of nervousness dissolve in her stomach. The ocean always pulled her out of herself, her spirit porous with joy at the sound and crash and swell of foamy turquoise under the glimmering sunrise. Her mother, Andromede, had grown up in a coastal kingdom as well, and had imparted her love for the sea to her daughter. In water we all began, daughter. In the waters of our mother's wombs we are first cradled. And to the waters of the next world we commit our beloved dead.
On the rare occasions when she could steal time by herself, Guinevere relished her solitude by the sea, where she could indulge in memories of her mother. In those days, she and her mother could wander by the seashore whenever they wished, picking up shells, bathing their feet in foam. Guinevere felt a pang, stronger than nostalgia, deeper than sorrow, for the tremulous innocence of stories traced in the sand, and the arms of a mother who was no more. She sighed and cast her eyes on the horizon, waiting for the sun to raise her golden hands more fully. Sometimes if she stared hard enough, before the sun was fully risen, Guinevere imagined she could see in the misted horizon the faint turrets of Camelot, with their streaming banners she remembered from a childhood visit, or the moored boats by the royal harbor in Ethiopia, her mother's kingdom. Would she ever cross these waters, set foot on new soil? Or would she only do so in death, when her body would be placed in a flower-strewn casket and set adrift on the tides? Guinevere loved Eirinn with all her heart, but the stifling castle walls that determined the terms of her existence darkened her spirits daily.
But not today. Today, she had been given a glimmer of hope, a whisper of possible change. She slipped out the carefully folded piece of parchment from where it had lain warmed by her breast, unfolding it carefully as golden bars of light filled the sky. A letter. At last. After two years of lingering silence, at last she held a letter in her hands. This was why she had risked discovery to be by the sea: there seemed no better place than the dawning shore to unfold the missive she had waited so eagerly for.

My dearest Gwen,
I cannot apologize enough for not writing to you. These past two years have been hard on our Kingdom, as Uther's hatred of the Old Religion continues to burn as strong as ever. Daily I sicken at the stench of innocent flesh burning on our pyres, and my dreams are haunted by the moaning of those who languish in our dungeons. How I have wished you were here, my dear friend! Your counsel and calm words would have been much comfort to me. I know you understand the hopelessness of feigned loyalty to a sovereign you despise. But at long last, dear Gwen, my prayers are answered: we are to visit Erin before the new moon wanes, to negotiate an alliance between our two kingdoms. While I must suffer Uther's company on this voyage, nothing can dim my joy at the thought of seeing you again. Arthur, and his manservant Merlin, are to accompany us as well. You may think this strange Gwen but I've found quite the friend and confidant in Merlin; I feel so alone at times and he is always there, present with kind words. Arthur, I think you will find, remains headstrong and arrogant as always; is there any wonder, with such a father as he has? I pity the woman who must marry him someday. Merlin and I have had many laughs at Arthur's expense. Oh Guinevere, sister of my heart, how eager I am to see you again! I shall not sleep for anticipation these coming days. Be well, be happy Gwen. I feel a change in the air for both of us, like the wind turning. Perhaps the darkness of these times will lighten at last. Perhaps.
Morgana.

Guinevere Leogrance, daughter of Thomas and Andromedhe, ward to King Peadar, looked out across the sunlit sea, her beautiful face bathed in dawn-light. Against the uncertainty of her future and the tedium of her present, she willed her eyes to see,  as Morgana's did, a glimmer of the distant wings of change.






Chapter End Notes:

Please review/critique if you have a minute! This newbie fanfic writer will be forever in your debt :)







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Disclaimer: All publicly recognizable characters, settings, etc. are the property of their respective owners. The original characters and plot are the property of the author. The author is in no way associated with the owners, creators, or producers of any media franchise. No copyright infringement is intended.