The queen held her sleeping child to her chest, watching her body guard pace the room. Loud bangs echoed through the walls, Queen Guinevere already dismissing her lady’s maids.
The coup was succeeding.
The screams of dying men traveled up the hallways, her protectors being pushed further and further back into the castle. The king was out there commanding his men, leaving his wife a tender kiss and gentle hand on the prince in her arms. She knew they would never be together again.
The child in her arms slept soundly, snuggling into his mother’s breast. In mere hours the queen would descend into the belly of the castle, escaping to her birth country in the west.
But her bodyguard would stand here, at the last stand. Would stand here against the horde to give her more time.
“Launcelot,” she whispered, the knight turning to look at her. She was dressed in riding gear, a dark woolen cape draped across her shoulders. He saw despair and grief in her eyes, a determination in her lip. A queen in every inch of her body.
“No, my lady.” He said, shaking his head at her constant plea, “I cannot come with you. They would know in an instant it was you.”
“But you’ll die here.” She said, “you have served me since I was a girl. Serve me still.”
He knelt before her, gently taking a hand. “Every man on earth dreams of dying protecting those in their care. Allow me this.”
“But Lance – “
“You shall not deter me. The prince must flee, come back and avenge his father and kingdom.”
A shudder echoed in the castle, a yell of triumph swallowing the air.
“They’re inside.” She sighed.
He nodded grimly, standing to face the door.
“Lance,” she said, standing to touch his shoulder. “I have to tell you something. Now that it’s just us.”
He shuddered against her touch, “don’t Gwen. My resolve will break under your touch.”
She turned him, stilling time for a moment. Her child slept on.
“I have been married to the king six years. For the first five years we could not seem to bear children.”
He nodded, “yes, which is why the prince is so precious.”
“I was given tonics and exercises. I was prayed over, covered in creams and subjected to blood-letting. You know this. You remember the rashes, the foul smells.”
He nodded again, reaching up to cup her cheek as her tears fell at the pain she endured. “I remember,” he whispered.
“Then one day an old lady came to the city. She was an old midwife and medicine lady. My Maria suggested her.” Guinevere winced as the sound of fighting inching closer.
“So,” she continued with a shaky breath, “she was quietly summoned. She looked me over and asked me questions none of our physicians had bothered to ask. She asked about my courses, about pain, about duration and timing. Then she asked to see the king.”
Launcelot watched her, his hand hovering on his sword belt. “I don’t understand –”
“Lance,” Guinevere cut in, “the king cannot… he cannot help me produce an heir. He… Arthur was the problem. Not me.”
The knight’s eyes went wide, turning sharply to look into her blue eyes. “Gwen… wait, what are you saying?”
“The old woman told us, just Arthur and I, that if we wanted an heir… it could not come from the king. Arthur had had an illness as a child that can burn through the body… stopping him from being fertile. The old lady had seen it before.”
“What did you do?” Launcelot asked through his teeth, “you tell me on a night like this?!”
“Arthur… my gentle Ari.” The queen said, smiling despite herself, “He knew what the old lady said was true. He gave me permission Lance.”
“Gwen,” Launcelot whispered, looking down at the babe in her arms. “You mean the week-long hunting trip… the one that took the nobles and most servants…”
“Took away the eyes and ears of the castle. So, I could produce an heir with the man I have loved since we were children.”
The knight’s eyes turned glassy, stumbling back from her, “Gwen… I have felt like a cursed man for loving you so.”
“I know.”
“… how did the King face me… how did he…”
“Ari knows I have loved you since I was a girl. You have the same hair and eye colour as him, you are his kinsman. You have no wife or family. You were the only choice.” She lifted her head, tears streaming down her cheeks. But her eyes held him with a burning passion, “you were my choice.”
She watched him. Though her tears streamed she was beautiful. She held herself up, unashamed and demanding his response. She had always been so. As she had raced Launcelot through fields on horseback as a child. As she climbed out of her bedroom window to get away from the endless needle work. She was bright and alive and burning with such life. Launcelot could not withstand the instant love that burned quietly inside him for many, many years.
But she never demanded of him what neither of them could not give freely. She had married as duty bound her and learned to love King Arthur as much as her heart allowed her at eighteen.
Until that hunting trip five years later.
When she had summoned him to the Queen’s court, her ladies dismissed, her maids scattered. And done what both their souls and bodies had earned for. Had taken the first step, Launcelot unable to deny her.
Now the world curled inwards, braying for the blood of their son.
“He… he is mine?” the knight whispered, gently taking the one-year-old in his large hands. The baby yawned, looking up to smile at his father. Holding him Launcelot could see the likeness of his chin, the same shaped fingers curled around his. His son. A future through the death surrounding them.
A yell echoed through the hallway beyond the door, the smell of blood and burning torches hitting them.
“We must go,” Guinevere whispered, swiftly taking the child and grabbing her pack.
“Gwen,” Launcelot said, watching her ready herself. “I have loved you since the day you made me a daisy flower chain when you were ten, I thirteen."
"You said you hated it?"
"I lied!" He laughed, "you are all I’ve ever wanted. I shall repay the debt to the King and thank him when I reach heaven.”
She put Prince Benjamin down on the ground for a moment, running over to smash herself into the knight. He tenderly held her, kissing her deeply.
“I love you.” She whispered, “before God and all angels. I love you. Your son Benjamin Launcelot shall know of you. We will not be forgotten.”
Then she swept up her child and opened the trap door in the floor. He watched her descend before locking it after her, throwing the key out the window and into the moat. He placed the heavy rug over the trap door and turned just in time to see the door shudder from an impact on the other side.
He prayed a silent prayer to his maker, watching the door heave and groan. An axe cut a slash through the door, a man awash in blood and ichor standing in the hole.
“Where is the queen?” he snarled.
Launcelot smiled, leaving his sword in its scabbard. Instead, he notched an arrow in his bow, his eyes steady, his prey visible. He would protect Gwen and his son with every breath.
“She wasn’t invited to this hunting party.” Lancelot replied as he shot, the arrow slamming into the man’s eye. The man screamed as he went down, the others stepping back and out of the grisly remains of his skull.
“I’m catching myself some hellhounds!” Launcelot roared, “who’s next?”
153Please respect copyright.ＰＥＮＡＮＡjBffv0ewht
Note: I'm not sure this meets your requirements... but people die? I got carried away...
ns 15.158.61.20da2
