Just When I Needed You Most [Romily]

[shonz]

Walking through the bustling village all groggy, seemingly drunk, was Gwaine. He had almost knocked a little boy running his way when he lost control of his steps and careened to the side. Fortunately enough, he managed to hold onto a nearby post to steady himself. His vision was a tad bit blurry, his head spinning like mad. He could feel the stares of villagers walking past him and hear their muted whispers. There was little to no chances of them identifying him as a knight of Camelot, he thought. He was wearing old ordinary clothes, none of the sigil of the Pendragons anywhere on his body. He was simply Gwaine. Still, the stares and the whispers don’t seem to end. They know who he was, even though Gwaine wished they didn’t.

He looked up to see that he was standing outside the village tavern. What a coincidence! Here he was careening from a hangover, and lo! A tavern appears, all poised to get him drunk again and give him another hangover on the morrow. His eyes looked up past the roof and onto the dark skies above. There were stars shining, the moon’s crescent floating languidly on one corner. It was a good night. It was a perfectly good night for a drink.

What was there to do anyway? He had lost the first and only woman he had totally given his heart to, all because of some foolish pride and unfounded fears. Romily had found out everything about him, about his lies, and she had walked out on him with such venomous anger and resentment in her eyes. Gwaine felt like he was being stabbed to death that moment in the courtyard. He might as well have died that day. He had lost all reason to live anyway. All of it. Gone.

He stumbled into the tavern, and made a beeline towards the bar where the barkeep was serving drinks to a full house of patrons. His hungover head throbbed painfully from all the noise, but Gwaine welcomed the pain. He deserved this suffering, and he was going to bring more unto himself. “Ale, the strongest that you've got. Lots and lots of them,” he told the barkeep as he slammed a couple of gold coins onto the counter.

[Romily de Braose]

This was it. The moment that she would finally make her decision as to whether to return to Carmelide (and surprise her father in the process) or go back to The Ram. It was a tricky situation, and either would allow her to forget. She hadn’t found Gwaine when she went to look for him, nor had she seen him since their little confrontation. Romily knew that she couldn’t stay in Camelot all her life, especially now that things hadn’t turned out how her and Gwaine both hoped that they would.

Romily had spent most of the evening pacing her room, deciding what to do. Back to Carmelide, back to Wolfhall (most likely to only be kicked out). Her new friend Gwen had been so kind to her, it would be a shame to leave without saying goodbye – but perhaps it was best to go quietly.
She hadn’t even mentioned to Yassia about her plans. It just seemed that all her decisions that she was making lately were hypocritical to both her and others.

She was looking in the smallish mirror on the wall – she looked like nobility. That was who she was walking out as. Lady Romily. Not Millie the barmaid. If Gwaine were to see her now then he’d have a seizure. Her pink dress stood out like a sore thumb, so anyone sitting in the bar downstairs would instantly turn their heads. Local interest seemed to scour as far as a bar fight these days.
Taking everything that she had arrived with, Romily slowly made her way down the stairs.
She got to the threshold that separated the stairway from the actual bar itself and immediately saw someone who she’d not expected to.

Gwaine.

Bugger!

He was here?! Of all the places, of all the bloody taverns in Camelot and its surrounding areas, he’d had to choose this one! Oh well too late now, he was going to see her any moment now and her feet wouldn’t move. Quickly she turned and darted back up the stairs to her room, unlocking the door and hurrying inside. She leant back against it, her breath a little hitched.

Gwaine was downstairs. Gwaine could have seen her. Gwaine might be looking for her right now.

What was she going to do?! She couldn’t walk out of there and come face to face with him dressed like this!

Or could she?

No! She quickly rid her mind of those thoughts. He could never know – even if she felt bad for not telling him, he could never know of her past. Her flaws. There were loads and Romily knew that she came with a LOT of baggage. Gwaine would never want to be with her. WHY WAS SHE EVEN WALKING OUT OF AN INN DRESSED AS A NOBLE ANYWAY??!!!!

Romily sank down onto the edge of the bed. It was either now or never.

[shonz]

Mead, ale, noise, taverns…Gwaine could never go wrong here. He should know. He had spent most of his life drinking and getting into brawls inside taverns in almost all kingdoms in Albion. A night or two spent in even the shadiest bar would be the perfect remedy for a broken heart, a broken leg, a broken arm, a broken anything. He was here getting his dose now. And it seemed to be working quite well so far.

Gwaine was halfway through his tankard and enjoying a hearty laugh with another man sitting there near the bar. They exchanged loud and rowdy jokes like the drunk men that they were. Nobody seem to know or care that he was a knight of Camelot. They were all just having a good time. He was listening to this man's tale about his encounter with bandits when Gwaine’s eyes saw a flash of lush pink from the corner of his eye.

Now, it wasn’t just the pink that made him turn his head. It was the dress, nay, it was the gown, a gown fit for princesses. And wearing that gown was the most beautiful sight he had ever seen all his life. A golden-haired goddess with eyes so blue, and a face so familiar it tore his heart apart. Millie. He had to rub his eyes to make sure he wasn’t just seeing an apparition or a hallucination. He knew he was drunk, but he wasn’t THAT drunk.

He looked at the barkeep trying to make sure this was a merely a tavern. It turns out it was an inn as well. When he looked back to the direction of the stairs, his lovely vision was gone. Like it hadn’t been there in the first place. He managed a chuckle that got the man beside him confused. “That wasn’t funny,” the man said frowning, thinking Gwaine was laughing at him. Gwaine shook his head, and patted the man’s shoulder as he stood up from his seat.

Tankard still in hand, he walked, a bit groggily, towards the stairs. He steadied himself by the wall as he looked up and down the staircase to make sure his eyes and mind weren’t playing tricks on him. He was drunk. He was missing Romily. It would be no surprise to be seeing images of her wherever he goes.

“Pretty, isn’t she?” Gwaine turned to see the barkeep passing by on the way to serve a table. Gwaine only gave him a confused look. Ignoring him, Gwaine then walked up the stairs and looked at the narrow hallway at the top to see where his apparition had gone. Or maybe it wasn’t really an apparition, he thought. The barkeep seemed to have seen her too. This made Gwaine more confident to seek her out.

“Millie?” Gwaine called out, certain that he was definitely losing his mind. He staggered towards a door, spilling the ale from his tankard as he almost lost his balance, the world around him spinning. He rested his face against that door, uncaring as to whoever was on the other side, and closed his eyes as he tried to keep his head still. When he did, he could still see the gloriously pink and gold vision in his mind. It was too real, too painfully real. He knew it couldn't be possible. Romily would probably be miles and miles away from Camelot now. To wherever, he didn't know.

[Romily de Braose]

“Millie?”

He’d seen her.

He was outside her door!

Romily had no idea what to do. Gwaine sounded near enough like he’d been the first time they’d met. Drunk. She sat as still as stone to the bed, afraid that if she moved, he might hear her. Could she even face him? She had lots to say, and was still battling with her demons. To go home, or to not go home.
She’d changed her outfits so many times from barmaid to lady that even she was now becoming a victim of mistaken identity.

Gwaine was still outside. How on earth did he even know what room she was in?!

Romily took a deep breath, raised her chin and stood up, walking over to the window. The door was unlocked; Gwaine could easily just walk in at any moment if he pleased. She leant her head against the wall and looked outside at the street that was slowly becoming deserted.

The truth. The lies. The guilt. The happiness. She was a swirl of emotions at the moment and if she was to come face to face with Gwaine she wouldn’t know whether to run into his arms with joy of cry with sadness.

Romily shut her eyes tight to blink away some tears that were threatening to sting just as hard as what she was about to do. Something that was very rare indeed.

“The door is open Gwaine” she called

Now it was time to wait to see whether he’d barge in and demand an explanation, or leave her alone.