Looters Will Be Executed [Sir Alymere | Guinevère]

[Guinevère]

Guinevère's eyes were wide as she stared at the man being held down while the king spoke from high up in his balcony. She watched in horror and heartbreak as a man everyone knew was forced to lean forward and put his head on a tall wooden stump that once was a shady tree. She did not want to be here! She wanted to turn and run but she could not look away! He was a neighbor! Of sorts. He lived not far from her and had a family! One that would be fatherless after this! She wanted to scream NO and beg someone to do SOMETHING! His children were starving! He was trying to save them and now it only cost him his life!! The axe raised and the king brought up his hand. No! No, no, no!!!! When the king's arm feel, Guinevère turned and bit her lips to keep from yelling out; her face coming to be buried into whomever's shirt was standing behind her. Arms came around her but her tears would not let who see the face whom comforted her. He'd try to save his family. That was all he wanted. He was a good man! He was a good man who now had children who lost a father! She could not imagine such a lost! Her own father was too dear to her! This was wrong! This was so much bigger then simply wrong!

--twelve-hours-later--

Guinevère pulled her cloak around her tighter and lowered the hood on her head as she walked down the darken hall of the servants corridors. She knew that for the moment she was safe but once she got to the end of the hall then she would be in danger. Just the thought caused every hair on her arm and on the back of her neck to stand on end with fear. Earlier, Morgana had asked this same thing of her, and she had not been caught. This time however, Gwen's actions were of her own. If she were caught there would be no mistress to get her out of trouble.

The king had ordered all looters to be executed; and Gwen knew all too well the fear of waiting for death to come. Earlier that same year she had been accused of being a witch, and ordered to burn at the stake. Merlin and Morgana had saved her with help of the prince. She was grateful, and even promised the prince she would avoid trouble at all cost after he found out she had a hand in aiding Lancelot in pretending to be a knight. The prince had not relieved to anyone--not even Morgana--that she had done so, but he did make her swear to never do anything so foolish again. The prince was very intimidating and she had had swore to him, but in this she could not.

Her neighbors where hurting. People she saw every day needed help. The king had ordered that they were to stop giving grain to the people in order to keep the army strong. It was not right! She knew this in her heart! There were children whom she saw crying because they did not understand why they could not eat; especially the ones now fatherless!! It was too much! She could not just stand idle!!

It was why she had stolen from the kitchens, and why she was standing in the servants hall in fear. If she could get this out of the castle, and to her home before curfew then tomorrow before the sun came up she could drop off some of it to a few of the families in need and no one would have to know who stole it nor who gave it to them. No one would know. No one . . . .

Breathing deeply a few times, Guinevère closed her eyes and forced her self to attempt to be calm. She was not good with lies and deceit but she had to be strong. Opening them, she looked down the hall and pulled her cloak tighter still before walking out of the servant's hall and into one of the main halls before starting to make her way to the door. She was hurrying but trying to not look like she was in a hurry. Just keep walking. Just keep walking. Just keep walking. Just keep walking! Don't run! Don't panic! Be clam! She shot a forced smile at someone as she passed them but she could not honestly say if they were servant nor knight nor king for the only thing she truly saw was the doors. She was so close. She just had to make it out the doors . . .

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.`·.¸.·´ EP: The Labyrinth of Gedref.
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(¸.·´ (¸.·´ .·´ ¸¸.·¨¯`·.SETTING: Ten til curfew | In a smaller hall, leading out of the castle.

[Sir Alymere]

11 HOURS AGO

The courtyard was deserted but for two people. A servant, clad in the insignia of Camelot, knelt on the execution dais scratching the bristles of a scrubbing brush back and forth over the planks. Rather ineffectually rubbing as much blood into the wood grain as washing it off. On the ground beside the dais kneeling in grief was a woman, weeping. She had not been in attendance an hour ago to witness her husband’s execution. Her young children had screamed all night in hunger as she waited in fear and desperation for his return. She’d found out his fate too late.

Her mourning was interrupted by the loud and echoing arrival of horses’ hooves on the stone ground as a hunting party rode in. Two knights led the group with four guards and two servants bringing up the rear, their arms laden with the spoils. Three pheasants and seven rabbits. Meagre pickings indeed for the kitchens of a royal court, for which they were headed. It left the knights feeling irritable and ineffective. One such knight was Sir Alymere. He cast barely a fleeting glance over the blooded execution podium and the woman standing beside it before dismounting. A flicker of a hand gesture sent the servants and guards scampering off into the castle as he and his fellow knight lead their horses away. The courtyard again was left in silence.

PRESENT

It was a knight she had so studiously avoided acknowledging but for that vaguely directed or rather: MISDIRECTED smile. Her first mistake. Forced and fleeting smiles were not generally how servants tended to great knights. Sir Alymere could only wish! If he had his way he’d be on the receiving end of far more smiles from pretty serving girls. But as it went he was more used to dipped heads and lowered eyes, to servants stepping aside in reverence and possibly a little fear to allow him to pass. He was a towering 6 feet of armour clad knight. People got out of his way!

She may have been oblivious to his presence but he was not to hers. He’d seen her coming, seen full well that she had no awareness of the imminent collision let alone any intention to evade it. So to avoid causing a spectacle he stepped out of her way. He a KNIGHT, dammit! a sworn protector of Camelot and HE got out of her way. Sir Alymere was so used to those head bows and curtseys that he now expected them. Expected maidens to swoon in his arms not blithely walk on past as if he was the rather unflattering depiction in a wall painting. Okay so maybe that last one was a bit of an exaggeration but a creative imagination was a vital asset to a knight. A lifesaver in many a scrape.

To say Sir Alymere was a little disgruntled at the lack of notice would be… about right. His disgruntle was on the minor end of the scale. So much so that when he opened his mouth to voice his as of yet rather uncommitted disgruntle the words never quite left his tongue. Probably for the better as he would have been somewhat idiotically speaking to thin air. That maid was sure in a hurry! He pivoted on the spot to watch her retreating figure.

Hunched. Cloaked. Hurried. It was her apparent haste that made his eyebrows rise a very slight, eminently dignified amount. It wasn’t curfew just yet. She had time enough that she didn’t need to walk like Hades was on her heels. Unless of course Hades was on her heels, in whatever guise. And if that was the case it was his duty as a knightly protector to see him thwarted. And since playing protector to damsels in distress was clearly MUCH more where his strengths and interests lay rather than in patrolling for looters, which quite frankly was guards works he decided to investigate.

“Wait,” he called after her, his voice cutting through the hesitant pre-curfew quiet of the evening.

[Guinevère]

The day held a morbid air to it, and everyone seemed to know it. Guinevère had gone to Morgana's chambers after the execution but even Morgana seemed to feel the loss. Morgana had lost her own father once, and knew the pain these children would be feeling. With Morgana's permission Guinevère visited the home of the widow. She had not known the family well but she had often spoken to them to be a friendly neighbor. How did one cope when they faced the loss of a father? Especially in a sudden and harsh way?! Gwen found her self feeling guilty that she was glad that her father keep out of trouble and did not take foolish risks. At the same time, when the youngest daughter looked up at her with wide eyes filled with tear and fear . . . . Guinevère wondered if it was foolishness or just perhaps something bolder, like bravery.

--ten-hours-later--

"Wait." It took a few seconds for the words--spoken with the unmistakable authority of a noble--to penetrate Gwen's frantic thoughts. She stopped walking suddenly but did not turn from where she stared at the door. Her eyes were wide and she was afraid. She turned slowly to look behind her, hoping that she did not looked as panicked as she felt. When her eyes found the voice they went a bit wider. Not just a noble.

A Knight Of Camelot.

A guardian, a rule keeper, a . . . . large one at that. The ones that someone taking such a huge risk as her self should be avoiding. She stared at him for a moment before blinking rapidly and coming out of her slight trance. "M-my lo-ord!" She spoke in a frightened tone evident by her slight stutter while she dipped her head down a bit more then she really had too, in order to make up for her staring. Gwen did not often stutter but she was cold with fear, and this was not something she often did.

Thoughts of today's events and the sight of the man's face as he waited to die made her breathing come slightly faster and more shallow. She didn't want to die! She wanted to live! She wanted to spend the rest of her life working for her best friend. And should Morgana be queen, as Gwen often hoped then she wanted to be there as her handmaiden still! "Am-m I br-reaking Cur-rf-few?" She had to literally bit her lips shut after asking that. She might not be known for stuttering but when she was afraid or nervous she often found her self in an uncontrollable ramble as she tried to talk her self out of things and only ended up talking her self in more.

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