Elyan sat on Guinevere's narrow bed, let his eyes travel over the furnishings of his sister's home, his family's home. Things were missing, some practical, some sentimental like the Kente cloth that had been their grandmothers, or the simple jewelry their father had made for their mother. He couldn't really be mad at Guinevere for taking those things. Elyan took note of the dust gathering on the tables and shelves. Gwen wouldn't like that. He got to his feet, picked up her broom and began sweeping the floors. When he'd done Elyan went down to the town well with a bucket. It was his day off and he was spending it working. Back at her house he added lye soap to the water and started scrubbing her floors.

        He'd told himself that it was okay to be angry at her, to not put himself at risk for her. After all look at what she had done. She had played with both of their lives and stupidly so no less. She had stood to gain everything, climb as high as one could and what had she done…? Women had been beheaded for adultery and yes she and the King were not yet married, but a betrothal was essentially the same. What could a man expect from a woman that betrayed without provocation on the night before their wedding? It disgusted him and yet- When Gwaine had come to him told him of the collection being taken up by the staff, that he'd planned to meet her just outside the walls of the lower town Elyan had found himself giving Gwaine his first true knife and money and telling him to tell his sister that he loved her.

        She could have been beheaded-

        -She could have been beheaded and here he was cleaning her little home, making it tidy as if she might walk through that door, as if she weren't out somewhere in the world beyond the safe walls of Camelot. Furious, Elyan took out his rage out on her floors and begged God to keep his sister safe.

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        Guinevere stared at river flowing rough and choppy, well beyond its banks. How had not planned for this? Rain for days and spring melt meant rivers overflowing their banks, meant floods, meant bridges underwater or washed away all together. The bridge of course was built at the narrowest part of river which was also the deepest. Flooding had pushed the murky, silty water up over the bridge and well onto the road. One could not look at river and even believe such a thing as a bridge existed.

        "What-" she felt the rise of despair and fought it.

         A large man that reminded Guinevere of her Uncle John clucked his tongue.

        "Well this is no surprise."

        "Hmmm?"

        "This river overflows every spring."

         "Oh."

       "Though I don't think it's ever been this bad."

       "I have to cross it."

        "Well there's a town a few miles back you might be able to get someone with a boat to take you across."

         She said nothing.

        "You could try to ford the river or caulk your wagon and float across."

        Still she was silent.

        "Well I'm going back. If you decide to ford which would certainly be the safest option the river widens out about three day's walk west." The man turned and began walking back the way they'd come.

         Guinevere considered her situation. The river was choppy and moving fast. She was a good swimmer, but the current looked dangerous and her food and other supplies would be ruined by a soaking. She looked west into the woods at the tall wide trunks of the trees; a bridal convoy could pass through easily. Fording certainly seemed the safest. With a resigned sigh she turned off the convenient roman road and headed west into the woods.

         She only learned the true weight of her cart as she made her way through the woods. On the smooth road it had flowed along with ease. On an uneven forest floor where roots and stones may be over looked, where the ground dipped, rose and seemed to fight the cart's progress Guinevere found herself truly working to keep her things with her, work that left her aching and sore and tired on the second morning and feeling quite alone.

        There were birds, rabbits, squirrels, chipmunks, cats, foxes, deer, and so many other creatures running the woods and all coming to the river to drink. There were wildflowers in so many precious colors, bees, dragonflies, butterflies and frogs, lizards, the occasional snake all making their own sounds, croaking ,chirping, thumping, howling and singing a whole forest full of lovely, sweet life. By the second day of this walk along the river for Guinevere it may well have been deadly silent for it was lonely. The animals all seemed to live in groups and families, talk to each other in their own languages keep distant from her and her cart. Even as public opinion had started to turn against her she had still encountered friendly strangers who either didn't know what she had done or didn't care. She could share news, hear gossip and stories, trade jokes, but now-

        -now with no distractions her mind roamed into places she did not want to go. She found her thoughts winding back to Camelot and her friends. Had Janet's guardsmen ever proposed? What of Enid? Enid had turned her back on her, but then given her a gift. She thought about Merlin and Elyan; wondered if things might have been different if she'd made more time for her brother. She thought of- Guinevere told herself not to think about it, to look for medicinal herbs, edible berries to watch the animals that peopled the forest.

        She stopped and unbuckled her cape. For the first time in many days the sun shone bright and clear and as it drew towards it zenith Guinevere felt a sweat break-out on her skin. She stood for a moment and let the breeze flow over her before discarding her cape completely. This was her third day walking west, the river certainly seemed widest her. She picked up a small branch and tossed it into the current and watched it meander downstream. Gwen decided to try crossing here.

       Guinevere unpacked the cart and studied the contents. She used putty to block up a few cracks and holes and then began putting everything back. The swords, being least likely to be damaged by a little water went first, next her cooking utensils, comb, clothing, her limited supply of cosmetics and toiletries and finally food. Most of the food was dried. She put some aside to go into her satchel and rest she wrapped in oiled cloth and placed on the top. Over it all blanket that served as her tent. She secured the load with rope and turned to what remained. In a smaller oiled cloth she wrapped the letters of recommendation and tucked them into the satchel, with that went some of her food, the simple jewelry her father had made for her mother, the pendant she'd gotten from Gwaine and her money. With everything packed to her satisfaction Guinevere put on her cape and secured the satchel to her chest well above where she expected the water to be and steered her cart into the river.

        The water churned swiftly about her legs, she had grown used to the chill and her flesh no longer shrunk from it. The cart was gaining water and so gaining weight, Guinevere ignored this. She was nearly halfway across and once on the southern bank this little detour on her journey would be over. For all that she did not want to leave Camelot; reaching Ealdor would be no little relief.

        The young woman tugged the cart handle as her momentum halted for the second time. If she had considered the difficulty of tugging the cart across and uneven and rocky riverbed she would have taken her chances trying to float across. Too late for that though she was committed now. The cart caught again on some unseen underwater obstacle and Guinevere pulled hard in frustration. Whatever it was the blocked her progress now seemed more solidly lodged than previous obstacles and Gwen dug her heels in pulling with all the strength of her young body.

        Once when Guinevere was still quite young she and Elyan had been playing, chasing one and other through town. She had run into the back of some shop -Elyan hard on her heels- and pulled the door shut. He had grabbed the doorknob and pulled hard. Guinevere of course being older and stronger held the door easily, but she let him pull and pull, felt him digging in with all his might and she waited. Waited while the tension gathered, waited until she could feel his resistance in every line of her body…And in the exact moment that she released her hold on the doorknob she knew. Knew that the tension she had let build was too much, the momentum too strong, knew that her brother would be thrown down hard. Guinevere shot through the door as her brother tumbled backwards, knocking his head on a stone.

            In the instant before the cart lunged forward, knocking her legs out from beneath her, shoving her below the river's surface and sending her tumbling into the current she knew. She knew it just long enough to take breath as ice water closed over her head.

            The current was fast and muddy and thick with things stolen by the spring swell. Branches, bushes, animals caught unawares and drowned, all of them in the same trap. Guinevere paid them no heed. She saw the cart downriver the current taking it further west. Gwen knew she should probably make for the other side, give up on the cart, but the remnants of her past were in that cart as well as the foundations o f her future. Smart or foolish she dove into the current.

            Guinevere ignored the chill weight of her clothing and swam straight for her cart all the power of the current directly behind her. She reached the cart easily only to have it snatched away from her reaching hands as the water whipped her round a bend. She went under for a moment, swallowed a bit of water and kicked to the surface. The water was moving fast now. It flowed and dipped over hills that gently rolling, but descended with force and strength while in water. The current whipped her past a boulder and she had but a moment to brace herself as she smashed against a second outcropping of rock.
Stars dancing before her eyes Guinevere rode down the river in a daze the chill of the water getting into her bones. When her mind cleared the sun was well past its zenith. The current seemed to soften then and instinctively Gwen struck for the southern bank. She cut through the deeper waters with ease and was soon in the shallows crawling and then stumbling up the muddy bank to collapse onto sun-warmed dry grass.

            The cart was gone and with it the remnants of her life. The future she had planned to finance on selling the swords her father had left behind, the Kente cloth her great-grandmother had brought from her homeland -a gift from a now dead King-, her food, clothing supplies all gone. Could she even reach the boarder now? Dully Guinevere reached into the neck of her tunic and found Arthur's ring present on the leather thong she wore there. Elyan's knife was still securely belted to her waist.
Relief seemed to flood her and the would-be-Queen sunk into it. Let weak fingers play along that simple circle of precious metal and for a moment she imagined none of that had happened. Remembered instead that summer afternoon when she and Arthur slipped away from the heat of the palace to take a break from their duties and dip their feet into the cooling waters of the river. Uther lay sick in the palace, there was work to do, but for a brief snatched moment they sat side-by-side ankles touching, hands finding each other to interlace for just a quiet moment. The world fell away and peace descended over them. The warmth of Arthur's hand, the heat of the summer sun, these things reached out to her from memory and warmed her for just a moment. But her mind could not settle in that moment-

         -The satchel which held so much of importance, it was still with her, but the leather was soaked and stiff.

         "Oh god please…"

         With aching fingers and a sick stomach Guinevere fumbled the satchel open and dumped the contents. Her mother's jewelry remained unchanged and the coins as well. Her soggy ruined food she tossed aside, there was no point in fretting over that. The references though…Wet the paper resists her efforts to pull free and after a few false starts they come loose with a wet sucking sound. Fingers trembling Guinevere breaks the seal of wax already knowing what she will find. They are both the same the dark ink has run with the water into one long black blur.

          The tears came down then, dreaded, hated they poured forth. Tears did not save her mother, nor her father, they did not call Elyan when she needed him most. When Uther would have burnt her at the stake tears did not sway him to mercy and now they did not keep her at Arthur's side. Drained of everything she could not resist them now, the tears flowed and the wail that had been building in her belly since she threw herself between Arthur and Lancelot clawed its way up and out.

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          Everyday Mared looked at the bracelet and everyday she thought about wearing it. But what did she need with such things as bracelets? Still it was lovely and every morning when her eyes fell upon it she studied it longer and thought of it more and more. Still she had no time for bracelets, bracelets were for noblewomen who had little work with their hands and would never be up their elbows in bread dough. Still in the small hours of the morning and the late hours of the evening her eyes traced its flowing lines and one evening she slipped it over her wrist. The metal was warm against her skin and even though she knew she should take it off the older woman could not quite bring herself to remove it.

         She slept almost the moment her head hit the pillow. A field somewhere outside of the walls of Camelot and when she looked down at her young hands she was not surprised to find another equally youthful brown hand holding hers.

         "Linnet," Mared said the other girl's name and met her warm brown eyes.

         "Yes?"

           Linnet's smile was mischievous; Mared could feel the young woman's thumb making slow, gentle circles on the back of her hand. She watched the mischievous expression become warm and serious. Knew what Linnet intended but did not pull away. She gave into the other girl's kisses and softness. Let Linnet lay her down in the fields under the bright blue sky. Felt and gave pleasure at the hands and mouth of her friend that she could never have or give to a man. Later they lay staring up at the clouds talking of how they might run away to the circus or some such.

        Mared woke in the morning to her husband and children whom she loved, but her mind was in her past.