Forbidden Love (Rewritten) | Arthur Pendragon

23 • THE WATCHMAN OF THE GODS

Truth was always preferable to lies, no matter how hurtful it can be, or how difficult to accept. But sometimes, the truth feels unreal. To Eowyn, the truth she had just learned felt like a tale so much it was grand, almost far-fetched. The truth she had always known was simple: she was a mundane girl with magic who had grown up in a small village in Cenred's Kingdom. She had no sort of importance, she was from the rabble, and she was a commoner who thrived to live a normal, simple life. A girl who loved science and wished to become a Physician, who wished to save people. But this truth was not real. Or at least, not anymore.

The real, actual truth was that she was of royal blood. She was a princess who had been smuggled out of her falling kingdom. A lost princess whose return was highly awaited. A woman whose destiny was bigger than her. A woman on whom the expectations were heavy. Everything she had believed to be happened not a lie, but it felt like it. Eowyn had been aware of her destiny ever since she had met Kilgharrah, but she had never truly realized its importance. Until now. She had great difficulties believing this. She had never felt important. She had always just been a girl from Ealdor and how could a girl from Ealdor be so important to the Tapestry of Fate? She could not understand. Why her? Why not someone else? Why could she just live a normal life? She did not want a great destiny, she did not want to be remembered, she simply wanted to be herself. An elven girl.

But now she was also a princess. Being a magical being already came with its sets of troubles, adding to that the troubles of being a princess, could she ever settle and have the life she desires?

"Eowyn?" She heard. She faced Ulric. They were still in the chambers beneath the castle. Elvira was gone and Eowyn and Ulric remained. "Are you alright?" He quietly asked.

Eowyn did not answer right away. Was she alright? She had not been told atrocities nor had discovered a dark past, so she must be alright. Yet, alright would not be the word she would use. She did not exactly know how she felt. Anxious? Gladdened? Frightened? Relieved? Enlightened? Lost? All at once? She had no idea. In fact, she was not certain of anything anymore. Few facts were facts to her anymore.

"You said Bearach was the King's brother," she said. Logics was the only thing she had left. "So this makes us cousins,"

Ulric nodded. He seemed relieved as if a secret had finally been revealed. His slightly odd behavior had become clearer to her. She had always felt that Ulric somehow seemed to always know more than he let it appear, that his words had a hidden meaning. Now she understood why.

"How long have you known?" Eowyn then asked.

"The very moment you told me your name," he replied. "We have been awaiting your arrival the very moment you left the kingdom,"

"That's why Usad has ceased attending social events in Camelot,"

Gaius had told Eowyn how, the past two years, Bearach had rendered his visits to Camelot rarer. She believed, at first, that it was a sort of way to express opposition to Uther, and in a way, it was. But they were simply getting ready for Eowyn. They were slowly retracting their allegiance to Uther to give to Eowyn.

"Would you like to meet my father?" Ulric proposed. "He will explain everything better than me,"

Eowyn thought a second before nodding. She still had questions without answers and it was only a matter of time before she would meet the Governor-General. So she followed Ulric, in deafening silence, out of the secret chamber, then out of the portrait room. They crossed a few corridors and Eowyn let her eyes detail the white stone so well carved into beautiful pointed arches and garnished with engravings. Blue flags wearing the eagle crest of the Elford House were hanging here and there and when it was not the case, it would be shields. The floor was carpeted and lined with suits of armor or fine porcelain set on pedestals. Himmeslk Vind was greatly different from Camelott's castle which was rather simple. Alvenes Hjem's castle was more elaborate with complex shapes and intricate engravings. Such craft must have taken years and years of work, but as the magic was part of Usad's history and culture, the use of it must have lessened the time of construction a great deal.