Of The Line Of Estelondo: Percival's Tale.

Chapter Nineteen/XIX: We Meet Again

Faramaureä tried to turn the horse around, but it would not heed her commands. Riding through the woods, she looked back again at her brother, Percival, who at this point had retreated out of the hole he had made in the woods wall and was running between trees and arrows like a rabbit fleeing a fox.

Without warning, the horse reared back, bucking her off, and turned, running back toward Percival. She hit her head but managed to hold on to her consciousness by a thread. As her vision began to clear, she saw a figure dismount off of its horse, and walk toward her. It appeared to take something off of its hands. She blinked a few times, trying to clear her vision, just in time to see Gary Gygax smiling at her.

"I do believe you have spent quite enough time away from me, beloved. I think it is time you and I got home to Meneltarma." He said, extending a hand toward her, but she reared back in fear.

Never had so complete a fear fallen upon Faramaureä as the one in that moment, and none would ever do so again. For years, she had feared her husband, building an image of him as a monster in her mind, seeing him as the man who had raped her and killed her family. Yet here he was, inches away from her, and he looked perfectly human. Or elven, if it makes any difference at all. "Get away!" She cried out in pure unadulterated terror.

"Look, I know things have been," he paused, trying to find a tactful way to continue, "rough, between us, but I am your husband. Things must change between us."

She is terrified of me, Gygax thought. Woe be upon my head for this. "What would it take for you to trust me? Some gesture of good faith, perhaps?"

He raised his hand, and the two guards hiding in the wood-line stepped out and lowered their crossbows. "There, now, Faramaureä. It that better?"

Run. Run. Run. Run. The thought was playing over and over in her head, and in a spur of the moment act of decision making, Faramaureä decided to listen. She rolled over onto her hands and knees, pushing herself up and onto her feet, but Gygax grabbed her hand before she could escape, and pulled her into an embrace. Be comforting; she is scared. Gygax thought to himself, but when she began to weep his irritation began to grow. What will it take to make you happy? His mind began to climb in rage, but when she tried to escape his embrace, he snapped. "What do you want me to do? I want you to come back home, but apparently, you do not even want to try to love me. What will it take to get a little bit of respect?"

She pushed back from him and wiped her tears away from her eyes. "Why could you not just let us be? You have the throne; you have killed our family; we are on the lamb. What use could we possibly have for you?"

"Well, Beloved, that is quite simple. My marriage to you strengthens my ties to the throne. But even more important than that," he paused for emphasis, "I do love you, Faramaureä. Believe it or not, though admittedly I would like you to believe it, that is the truth, and the truth stands." He extended a hand to her again because she had pulled away from him. "The way I see it, you have two options: take my hand, and live the life of luxury that my wife should, or flee again on weary feet, and suffer some more before joining me in the end." Just accept my help, you accursed girl. Do it!

Faramaureä was quiet for a moment, and she tried to regain control of her emotions. "Perhaps you are right, Gary. Perhaps the only difference is how much I suffer and perhaps it is foolish to prolong my suffering." She looked him in his hope-filled eyes and concluded "If those things are true, if they are completely irrefutable, then I will choose the path of least suffering. I choose to wander this landmass for a thousand more years and to stay as far away as possible from the man who falsely claims to be my husband. Every moment I share with you is suffering and agony beyond compare."