The following day, Gwen was learning how to make flower crown for the last day of Saint Augustine and Gwen was pretty mentally tired thinking about what was waiting for her in the morning.
"Gwynnever, why don't you go rest for the day? It's almost past tea time, we'll manage."
"I'll stay a little longer if you don't mind Cornelia." She wipe some strands off her forehead when she heard a familiar voice.
"Mr Twinkle!" it belonged to the redhead girl Gwen liked so much.
"Mary?" Gwen inquired moving closer to her. "What is it?" the tiny hands pointed to the huge oak near her house. "Mr Twinkle." Gwen saw a little spot hanging for dear life on one of the huge branches of the tree.
"Is that a cat?" she froze. The forest smell filled her lungs as a scarlet cloak floated in her view and Arthur made his way to the oak.
"He'll learn how to climb back, I'm sure." He tried to reassure the five-year-old but she wasn't having and probably rightfully so. Gwen was looking at little rusty ball of fur, wining as if its life depended on it.
"I've got this." She offered as she pushed the shirt up and started climbing the oak.
"Not if I get there first." Arthur retorted and she looked at him after a long time. It was as if she was looking at apollo and she was poor Dafne, deemed to crumble under his beauty. But she wasn't going to go without fighting. So, she moved up, silently challenge him to do better.
They race side by side with Gwen having a hard time not stepping on her skirts. She reached the branch just in time before the kitty fell and she caught it midair however her hand was sweaty and she lost balance.
Arthur was there to catch her by the waist and pull her closer to his chest.
"Got ya! I won." He giggled victorious and Gwen puffed annoyed.
"Stupid dress. It's so warm in here." She complained as she brought the kitten to her chest. It was pouring so much she felt relaxed and calm. Arthur helped to steady herself on a nearby trunk and she slowly climbed down as the kitten stayed on her neck, digging its sharp claws inside Gwen's skin. She didn't seem to mind and as she gently rip it away to give it back to Mary, Arthur noticed the blood streaks on her collarbone.
"Technically," she was starting as Arthur grabbed her hand and she lowered her voice. "I got the kitty."
Arthur pulled her handkerchief from her sleeve and wiped the tiny lines of blood.
"Look at those nasty scratches." He was complaining. Gwen reached for his wrist and stopped him. At that he raised his eyes and they linked. Gwen felt his feet taking a step forward however she wasn't ready to break the promise and turned around.
"Thank you, sire." She quickly bowed and disappeared as fast as she could, not wanting to indulge in this dangerous game.Later that evening, Gwen took a long bath and after braiding her hair she slid into bed looking at the ceiling counting anything that ever lived so that she would fall sleep but all she could hear was noises on noises in Arthur's room. It was hard to ignore them for how loud they were.
He was moving stuff, then curse then again moving. What was he doing?
It was when he yelled "Oh Crist!" that Gwen found the courage to walk out of her room and knock on his door.
"Arthur! Can you stop? I'm trying o sleep." No answer.
She waited but nothing. There was nothing left than walk inside. She looked the room and it was a mess made of thousands of books piled on every inch. Arthur was under say twenty of them. Probably a pile had collapsed on him and knock him unconscious. She wanted to laugh but instead she pace to move toward him. She moved couple of toms and helped him to stay seated. He wasn't opening his eyes so she grabbed a glass with what she believed to be wine and toss it to his face.
YOU ARE READING
Gwynnever - Queen of Camelot
Historical Fiction"I, Lancelot of the Royal Knight of Camelot and Advisor of the King, offer you Gwynnever, my hand in marriage to repair the mistake the King did toward you." Everybody stopped breathing. Gwen was a statue of salt and Arthur felt like he was suffoca...