Bad Romance? [Arthur|Romily]

[Romily de Braose]

Romily didn’t like this one bit. She hated walking through unknown places in broad daylight, especially forests. You never knew what or who was lurking around every corner.

Eldon had sent his newest recruit (herself if you hadn’t guessed yet) to collect some supplies from a friend and that involved passing through the Forest of Balor. She’d heard many uninviting things about this place, but so far nothing had come to pass. Thank goodness.
She was counting her lucky stars that she’d managed to find shelter as well as a job. Eldon wasn’t that bad – he was quite old and had just his daughter to help him run the inn. Romily had been there for not even six months and already he had her doing all sorts of jobs. She’d spend many nights (or early mornings) being the last to roll into bed and then not even having a proper nights sleep, where she would have to rise before dawn to start the day all over again. Many people would see her as the poor little rich girl who was kicked out of her home and her connections because of a man who had ruined her life. She hated him, she hated her father. She hated herself, but that hadn’t stopped her from walking away from it all and starting a fresh.
Back in the village no one had any idea that their barmaid was in fact the daughter of a very wealthy lord from Carmelide. They only knew that she was Millie the traveller girl who had come in search of a job and home. Bravo! She preferred that. If the people ever found out then not only would it cause embarrassment but also they would start to treat her differently. She didn’t want that. She had already gained the respect of the villagers and didn’t wish to loose it just yet.

Romily was so caught up with her thoughts that when she looked around she had no idea where on earth she was headed. She stopped doing a full three sixty-degree return before realising that she was well and truly lost. She’d never had any navigational problems when it came to running away. Typical really.

“Ow!” something grabbed her arm and pulled her into them. “What the…” she was but off as a hand was placed over her mouth

“Shhh, now aren’t you a pretty little thing?” the man sneered. Romily could feel something against her throat. “Keep that little mouth of yours shut, otherwise you won’t see the marvel of this forest again,” he threatened

Romily could only nod slightly,

“You clearly don’t realise who owns this place do you?” the man growled, “King Cenred will be very pleased to know that we’ve made such a catch, and a pretty one at that – he likes blondes…”

As the man took his hand away from her mouth she could feel his breath on her neck. It made her shake. “King…Cenred?” she asked cautiously – perhaps if she distracted him with some civil talk then she’d stand a chance of escape

“Very powerful man, you don’t want to be seeing him anytime soon – unfortunately, it looks as though you’ll be doing just that” It was either now or never, she took her chance and kicked a foot backwards, causing the man to yell and drop his dagger.

She ran and ran, running for your life wasn’t fun, especially if you were lost in the place where a tyrannical King would have your head for it.

Setting: Forests of Balour (however you spell it!)

Timeline: Series 2 (Just after Sweet Dreams)

Tag: Arthur Pendragon [/color]

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur was in a strange sort of mood. His emotions were mixed and his mind filled with a mess of thoughts. He knew he needed to get out of Camelot for a little while just to clear his head. And to avoid listening to any sort of teasing, ridicule or rumors that came with his recklessly foolish recent actions. There were many horrible things about it. The first being that no one else knew it had been an enchantment so he could not fully explain that his actions had not been his own. It was a bit sad for Vivian really, since she was still under the influence of the spell. His had been fortunate enough to be broken -- thanks to Guinevère -- but hers had not, so everyone would forever believe that Arthur was a foolish romantic, one who sneaked into a Princess's chambers in the middle of the night. One who would put both kingdoms at risk of war. It was a horrible reputation to have, and he only hoped that his actions during the fight with King Olaf would prove that that was never his intention.

Which was the second most horrible aspect of everything that had happened. He had nearly died! He had been in a fight that he thought he was winning, but one which resulted in cracked ribs and various bruises. How enchanted had he been! Quite a lot. He knew he had. But he had also come so close to death in quite an intense fight. The repercussions of killing Olaf were unimaginable and would defeat the revolutionary act of the greatest 5 kingdoms coming together in a peace treaty for the first time ever. It had been so close, and to think what it had almost lead to, disturbed Arthur. But the spell had been broken just in time . . . which brought him to the next horrible part of this entire ordeal: the thought of what he had put Guinevère through. Granted, he had no control of his actions and she did not appear to blame him for them . . . but they also seemed to make her realize the difficulty in them being together. Which was ironic. This had proved to him that he could love no other, and would love no other. Which only motivated him to fight for them, and in the process, keep giving her that hope that they had a future.

The events had proved to have an opposite effect on her and she was distancing herself from him. He knew it, from the moment she had bowed and called him sire in her own home. It had hurt, a great deal more than he could have ever imagined. For it had been the first time he ever told a woman that he loved her, and truly meant it. Only to have the feeling vocally unrequited. He knew she felt it, but she was fighting it. And he could not blame her for doing so. He fully understood why . . . but that did not mean he would accept it. If nothing else, it only made him to want to keep fighting for a way for them, without having to ask her to wait for him . . . without putting her in that horrid position. So with all these thoughts, concerns, fears . . . everything had just piled on and Arthur was out of the city, for a good ol' natured hunt. By himself. He did not feel like being in the company of anyone else. And he knew that when he returned his father would not be too pleased to hear about that.

So now, here he was. In the middle of a severely dangerous forest . . . but all the better for a good challenge. He had tied up his horse miles ago, as he trudged through the heavily wooded area, crossbow in hand and sword in its sheath. He was dressed in his regular hunting attire so that if by chance he encountered anyone . . . unless they were directly from the city, they would probably not recognize him. Or well, that was what he hoped. For he had come here to get away from everyone; the last thing he wanted was to be recognized and have to explain himself, or hear the questions aroused from recent events in the city. No. Today would just be about hunting. It was a means for him to distract his mind. To focus on something else. And so far, he was succeeding. In fact, he already saw a deer in the distance.

Arthur was walking very carefully, his light footing avoiding any sound that would alarm the deer. This was a sport, and so far, things were working in his favor. He slowly crept behind a tree, pointing the crossbow directly at the stomach of the deer. If he aimed for the heart then it would instantly kill the animal, and it would not have to suffer in its time of dying. Even Arthur was not that cruel. He slightly squinted to get better aim, directing the arrow and just about to release its hold . . . when there was a distant yell, and suddenly quickly approaching footsteps. This triggered the deer into a frenzy and it bolted off. Arthur would have been more irritated from this interruption had his first instinct not been concern. What was happening? Bandits? Sorcerers? The forest of Balor was infamous for housing some of the most dangerous creatures and beings of magic . . . so this could be something serious indeed. Especially with the sudden rush of footsteps that seemed to be heading in this general direction. Someone was running and they were running fast.

Arthur remained hidden behind the tree, knowing it was only a matter of time before the person running -- for they sounded light enough to be a person -- would come into view. Arthur kept his back against the trunk of the tree, holding his crossbow up and when he heard it . . . just . . . in . . . time! He suddenly jumped out from behind the tree, holding the crossbow out in front of him -- only to see a young woman. He was positioned right in front of her, and instantly lowered his weapon. Instead, he grew concerned for her, a reflexive action when seeing a woman who was clearly running from something. He quickly took in her features. Fair, light skin . . . long cascading golden hair . . . almost a natural elegance to her. It was her attire and current state that dissuaded him from believing she was nobility. But there was something very, undeniably elegant about her. Maybe it was just beauty. Either way, now was not the time to stand here and study her features when he should be asking what had caused her to run and look so distressed. For not far behind, he heard more movement. "What happened?" He asked in a voice that held both concern and sternness to it. It was better to get to the point than to waste time exchanging pleasantries . . . when time could be of the essence right now.

[Romily de Braose]

She couldn’t remember how long she had been running for. All she knew was that she was starting to tire herself out, and still Cenred’s minion was giving chase. She could hear him, heavy footsteps brushing the leaves. She compared them to her own, light and desperate – but not as quick.

Romily truly thought that this was the place that she would die. She’d be discovered by some passing peasant (if they hadn’t already been confronted by Cenred’s men) and then would be given an unmarked grave. Brilliant. Oh well, at least she’d remain unknown and no one would have to grieve. No one would grieve anyway because there was no one to.

She headed deeper into the forest. When did it ever end? As she drew nearer she suddenly gave a small scream of fright. A man jumped out in front of her, crossbow drawn and ready to aim at its kill. Not another one! She skidded to a halt and looked around in case a whole group were waiting to pounce. She knew she couldn’t go backwards, but she could feel herself backing away from him. Either way she was surrounded.
She looked at him terrified, but then something surprising happened. He lowered the crossbow. What the…wasn’t he going to kill her? Or was he waiting until his friend joined him? His next words almost sent her falling over. "What happened?"

She felt her back connect with the trunk of a tree. He was staring at her with some concern. She then noticed his clothes. They were not the same as the man had been wearing earlier – he’d been wearing the colours presumably of Cenred’s kingdom. She didn’t trust him, but she didn’t want the Forest of Balor to be her resting place either. She had to take a chance.

“Please” she started, “Cenred’s guard, he’s chasing me” she looked around desperately, hoping that he wasn’t about to sneak up on her. “Please! I need your help!”

She then heard the footsteps and saw the guard running into view. Giving a small shriek of fright she darted behind the trunk. Hopefully the stranger would be her saviour.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur had so many questions, but there was very little time to ask. Though, once he heard the name 'Cenred' . . . everything became clear. It made him decide instantly that he was to protect this woman. He did not know her story. He did not know why Cenred's men were after her -- though considering her evident beauty, he could muster a guess -- nor did he know what they had already done to her. Either way, he was determined to make sure that they did not inflict further harm on to her. Camelot was on the brink of war with Escetia, and he knew just what kind of man Cenred was. It was why Arthur had no problem with meddling in his affairs with this woman. Plus, they were in neutral territory so he had no claim over her. He did not confirm with words that he would aid her, for it would be fairly obvious in his actions to ensure the guard did not harm her.

He watched her only briefly as she quickly sought concealment behind a tree. He then turned his attention forward at the guard who was racing towards them. By the time Arthur aimed his crossbow appropriately and right on target, he would be too close to him and could easily slash him with his sword. With this thought he quickly tossed his cross bow to the ground and swiftly pulled out his sword from its sheath, just in time to block the first swing that the man aimed at him. Judging from the force of his swing, the expression on his face, and the fact that he showed no hesitation in attempting to strike him . . . all led to the conclusion that the man probably knew that Arthur was the prince of Camelot. It would not be unusual, for Cenred had met him plenty of times, and if he was his guard, then he probably had seen him at some point or another.

But now clearly was not the time to ask such things or to question one another's motives. The guard was a threat and he needed to be eliminated. Arthur would have told the woman to run, had it been certain that this was the only man chasing after her. There could be more though, and sending her off to fend for herself was not an option. He could just be sending her to further harm. Nor did he draw any more attention to her -- or the tree trunk she was hiding behind -- for hopefully as far as the guard knew, she would be long gone and Arthur was simply an obstacle that stood in the way. Not one that he would be able to overcome. The man however was undoubtedly one of the more strong combatants out of Cenred's group.

While Arthur was successfully blocking the blows, the guard proved to have a tremendous amount of strength, and the two of them could be at this all day. The Prince needed to start using some strategy. With one incoming swing of his sword, Arthur ducked and in a circular motioned spin, moved to the side using this vantage point to slash the man's side when he did not have his sword up to block the blow. It was not a fatal injury, but it would at least somewhat hinder his mobility. The man showed only a brief moment of impairment, though he seemed to grow enraged that he had just suffered an injury. Excellent. Such rage led to irrationality and lack of control in their movement. He swung once, and Arthur moved his upper body back and to the left to avoid his swing. He then raised his sword to block one more blow. With the blow, Arthur used all his strength to push the guard's sword upwards in which his torso was now vulnerable, and the young prince took full advantage of his this. He quickly inserted the sword into the guard, death coming swiftly to his opponent. Arthur pulled out the sword as the man fell lifelessly to the ground.

This small victory was not something to bask in however, for as Arthur previously established, he did not know how many more there would be. One man was no match for a group of Cenred's trained knights. Arthur kept his sword up defensively, just in case more came running towards them. He needed to get the woman to safety. He was not sure how much he saw, but he stepped behind the trunk seeing she was still there. "Come on, we need to get out of here," he told her, hoping she would have no objections to a man who was still a stranger to her, offering his company to get her to safety and fully out of harm's way. Never the less, he waited for her reaction, just in case she needed further assurance or convincing that she could trust him.

[Romily de Braose]

Romily could only watch as the stranger fought the guard. She was safe for now. He was quite strong in comparison to her pursuer, who was struggling to keep up. Finally he fell to the ground, Romily kept her eyes on him, and afraid that he may jump up at any moment and spot her.

“Come on, we need to get out of here," she heard the stranger yell.

She didn’t waste any time in heading out from behind the tree, hitching up her skirts as she followed him, running for her life once again – whether the guard was dead or not. Who knew if there were more of Cenred’s men lurking somewhere and watching. They could pounce on them at any moment.

She followed after him, trying to keep up. He was quite quick on his feet and Romily, who had never done running like this in her life, was finding it hard to keep up. She would stumble occasionally, not looking where she was going but eventually a root that was growing out of the ground finally sent her tumbling to the forest floor.
Ouch. She didn’t think she’d done herself much of an injury. She got up slowly and brushed down her dress – she couldn’t run anymore. It was impossible; she’d pass out if she had to.

Her eyes met that of the man who had been leading the way in front of her. She could stare suspiciously at him. For all she knew it could be a trap, but something about him told her that he wasn’t out to harm her.

Romily looked around the forest and then back at him. “Are there anymore?” she asked, her voice breathless and shaky.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur was running forward, trying to make sure there was not too much distance between him and the woman. He glanced behind his shoulder every few moments, ensuring she was still behind him. He was not sure where they would go. Perhaps tire out whoever still may be chasing them, for he doubted that only one guard of Cenred's would be out there. Surely, he traveled in a group. It was the smart thing to do . . . and yet, here Arthur was, out and about alone. It just brought him back to his initial question of whether there was a specific reason they had been bothering her. If she was someone of importance? As before, he knew he would have to wait before questioning such things. The moment he chose to look behind him, see just managed to catch sight of her fall.

He abruptly stopped and quickly moved towards her, with the intention to help her up but she seemed to get herself to her feet. "Are you alright?" He asked, meaning in many terms. While she did not look injured, he just wanted to make sure that he had not missed anything . . . that Cenred's guard had not actually had the opportunity to harm her in any way. Then of course his question of urgency was to see if she had hurt herself in the fall, such as getting a twisted or sprained ankle which would only hinder their movement. As before, she seemed to be alright but he just had to make sure. They had both stopped now, and began to scan their surroundings making sure of two things: that no one else was around, and that they could possibly find a place for concealment just until she caught her breath. Arthur did not have to be the most observant person to notice her necessity to take a break. But standing in the open was not the best idea.

"I'm not sure," he answered. "I am assuming so," he added, going back to his previous logic of Cenred's guard not traveling alone. The fact that she was asking him also suggested that she had only encountered one of them. "We need to find a place to hide," he added, implying that he was not going to leave her to fend for herself. The forest of Balor was large . . . they could not keep running at this pace. It would be different if they had horses, but considering both were on their feet, they needed to take a breather. "This way," he finally said, waiting to make sure she was alright to move before he went in any sort of direction. Anywhere but backwards.

[Romily de Braose]

Entering into strange and dark caves with mysterious men wasn’t a past time of Romily’s – nor would she have even considered it if he hadn’t had suggested it as a hiding place.
She still had yet to learn his name. At least he wasn’t trying to kill her or drag her back to his master to face death. She was more surprised at herself for following him when he told her they needed to find somewhere to hide earlier on.

The cave was dark and concealed very well. How had they found it? Oh yes, when she’d stumbled down the ravine and practically rolled into it. Smooth going Romily. So far she’d managed to almost get herself killed, trip over tree roots and embarrass herself. How was she not dead yet??

She looked around, not knowing how long she’d have to spend hiding out there with a total stranger. She then turned to him; the only few rays of light seemed to cast across half of him. That was when she noticed the injury.

“You’re hurt” she commented and moved closer to take a look at the wound. Either it had been received whilst fighting the guard or as they were running for safety. Romily knew that she was also hurt but wouldn’t bother about herself until she knew that the one that the man had received wasn’t potentially fatal.

She studied him and his features. It was the first time she’d actually taken any notice since he’d revealed himself. Tall, muscular and blonde. Obviously handy with a sword and not having any concerns for his own life. Just who was he? And what on earth was he doing in the Forest of Balor?
Romily had seen a small stream near to the cave. At least there was water to drink and to clean the wound.

“I still have yet to learn your name,” she said, looking at the bloodied mark on his tunic rather than at him. Her eyes then looked up at him, “for all I know you could still be one the guards in disguise…”

Her own wound hurt. She could feel the blood pumping and the sting like a bee. She knew she had one to her right side of her ribs – she still couldn’t recall as to how she’d received it though. She winced slightly, hoping that he hadn’t heard. She didn’t want to appear the typical damsel in distress. Instead she cast her eyes to the floor and smiled slightly. “It needs to be cleaned” she gestured to the wound again; “there’s a stream nearby – so at least we’ll have water”.

[Arthur Pendragon]

The closest thing they could find was a cave. Now, Arthur was not totally stupid. He knew that it could not be easy for her to enter a cave with a stranger, after having been attacked by another just moments ago. Even if he had fought to defend her, there were many motives that men could have to do such a thing. Of course, Arthur was not one of those men who expected anything in return. He would just have to try and convince her of that. When they entered, he looked around, making sure it was empty of any sort of wild life or random squatters in the forest. At least here they could catch their catch their breath and figure out where to go next. It was only when he had actually stopped moving, that he began to feel a sudden surge of pain fill his upper chest, just below his shoulder.

Though it was painful, he had not noticed the extent of it until she pointed out that it was bleeding. Slightly confused, he looked down at the source of the pain. Indeed she was right. When she moved close to him though, that was when he noticed her own injury. With their close proximity, it was difficult to ignore. He knew he had could handle his, though her concern was touching. Just as her primary concern was for him, his was for her. "So are you," he pointed out, unable to help his gaze from resting on her wound. Well, what a lovely combination this was. Both of them were injured, both impaired from traveling too long a distance. It seems the cave would be their sanctuary for the next little while. He put his sword back in its sheath so that it would be easier to do what he needed to next.

Arthur began to remove his vest that he wore over top his shirt. He cringed as the movement of his shoulder was strained due to the injury. While his vest was not the best substitute for a bandage, they had to improvise. This was not the first time he had received a battle wound, but it could very well be her first. So his vest would have to do. Maybe he should start alleviating some of her worries and doubts before taking off his vest and potentially making her uncomfortable. "Arthur," he answered in a soft tone, hoping to build some trust between them so that the upcoming question that he would have to ask at some point -- regarding the removal of her dress -- would not seem so . . . awkward. If that was even possible "And yours?" He asked, hoping to call her something apart from general terms such as 'damsel' or 'blond woman'.

The wound was becoming too distracting for Arthur to dismiss any more, or bring further attention on to his own. "Your wound needs to be tended to as well, before you lose too much more blood," he stated, seeing the thick red liquid beginning to seep through her dress. "You're, going to have to remove your dress." There was no delicate way to put it. While it sounded blunt . . . it was necessary. Even if he had more time to think over how to best phrase the question -- though it was not really posed as a question -- there was no other way to say it. He only hoped she would not be alarmed by his suggestion, as it came out of concern for her, rather some perverse pleasure to watch her undress herself. As she said, there was a steam nearby that they could clean the injuries . . . but in order to access them, they first had to remove the barriers, meaning, their articles of clothing.

[Romily de Braose]

Arthur. Well, at least now they were on first name terms. Until she told him his that is. He’d pointed out that she was also injured, but Romily – like the girl she was just shrugged it off. “My injury isn’t of any concern to me at the moment.” She replied, it wasn’t but it still stung.

It was then he begun to remove his shirt??!!! She hadn’t seen that one coming. She could see he was having a little trouble and helped him to pull it over his head. “There…” she said, “obviously it’s not in the most generous of places” she referred to the wound. She looked away quickly – this was very improper, for a start he was topless in front of her and she was looking! Well not at his body but at the wound, but then again it was hard not to…oh forget it!

Arthur’s tone had changed to a softer one as he spoke. Obviously to allow some kind of trust to form between the both of them. After all – they were going to need it if they were going to be in the cave for a while. She perched herself on a rock and toyed with a strand of hair nervously. “Romily”. She finally confirmed. After all – it were far better knowing one another’s name than having to give nicknames such as ‘the stranger’.

He was now commenting on her wound. She looked down to see the blood beginning to seep through as easily as rainwater. Many women would faint at the sight but Romily just kept her eyes focused on it. “It’s just a scratch – besides, yours is bigger than mine”.

"You're, going to have to remove your dress."

WHAT!!!! Her head snapped up at this. She couldn’t do that! Not in front of him anyway! She hardly knew him and it wasn’t exactly the proper thing for a woman to do. She looked at him and then stood up. If it was the only way to help their injuries then she had no choice.

She self-consciously unlaced the front of her bodice, her eyes flickering up to his every so often. She pushed one sleeve off of her shoulder and then did the same with the other, wincing slightly again as the pain shot through her side. She let her dress drop to the floor leaving her in just her underskirts.

Keeping her eyes on the floor she leant down gently and picked it up, laying it across the rock

This wasn’t exactly the most appropriate of circumstances. Alone with a topless man called Arthur, and her in just her underskirts that practically showed more flesh than her actual dress had. Both wounded, but with more regard for one another than themselves.


Oh, and they were in a cave.

[Arthur Pendragon]

She was clearly a modest woman. Had these circumstances not been extenuating ones, then by no means would he have requested her to remove her dress . . . nor would he have removed his own shirt so hastily. The sooner he dealt with his wound, the sooner he could . . . see hers. Yes. See. Oh dear. That would be a bit awkward indeed. But, again, it was better than either of them bleeding to death. Even if she passively dismissed her wound, he was not about to do the same. Even if it was not her first, she seemed to be handling it rather well. He had seen over dramatic women, who pricked their finger and felt that it was the end of the world. But she -- Romily -- did not seem to be such a woman. Which would make it much easier to tend to. He awkwardly turned his head a bit to try and get another look at his wound, as it was now easier to do so for the clothing no longer covered it. He couldn't very well tie something to block the bleeding himself. Besides, they needed to get to the river and . . . well, he could wash it himself. That may be going a bit too far asking her to do such a thing.

"It’s just a scratch – besides, yours is bigger than mine." That was a matter of opinion. Or rather, a matter of comparison. Which again, would require the removal of her dress. "It is of concern to me then," he said in a bit of a firm, yet still somewhat soft voice. He was trying to further state that the reason of his comment about taking her dress off, was with no perverted intentions. That her wound was raising concern in him. He may not know her, he may not know why she was targeted . . . but she appeared to be an innocent woman, victimized by cruel men. That that was a soft spot for any knight with decency and respect for the fairer sex. When she offered her name, he gave a short nod of acknowledgment, and would have continued to exchange pleasantries . . . had they not both been bleeding.

He noticed her reaction to his statement, the way she quickly averted her gaze, shifting it o the ground. It did not surprise him. He would have thought he'd need to convince her further, but she seemed to be in full compliance and understanding as she began to unlace her dress. Just as she looked away from him, he turned his back to her while she did this. He did not want her to think that he'd be leering at her, watching her intently as she undid one lace at a time. He was trying to handle this as . . . professionally and respectfully as possible. As respectful as two skimpy clad people in a cave together could be. When his back was turned to her, he began to rip the bottom part of his shirt. Obviously he had full intentions to wear it again, so he only ripped a small part of the bottom that was usually half tucked in his pants anyway.

After a few more moments, he slowly turned his head, peeking a look to see if she was done. She was. But this only made him turn his head forward again . . . trying to think of how to make her as least uncomfortable as possible . . . under the circumstances. After only a few more seconds of getting the cloth together, he turned to face her once again. Focus on the wound he told himself, forcing his gaze to single in on the region of the injury . . . hopefully it would not look like he was just staring at her breasts. "I'll need you to, lie down," He told her trying not to sound too awkward, slightly clearing his throat. First, he was telling her to take off her clothes, then to lie down. Good god. How he could only imagine what thoughts were racing through this woman's mind. Had his heart not belonged to another, then he would have been concerned over what thoughts would have been racing through his mind as well.

[Romily de Braose]

"It is of concern to me then,"

She shook her head at this. It was still all very awkward but what were they to do? Bleed to death? For Romily she couldn’t care. She’d almost killed herself in the process of escaping so now – in the process of recovering, it wouldn’t hurt. At least Arthur would go on living. If she managed to live though this then she wouldn’t be casually telling the locals at the ram - “Oh yes, funny story – a man called Arthur and I stripped down in a cave and stared at one another’s wounds”. Although it sounded funny in her head, it would sound more disturbing when being told verbally.

“Why were you in the forest anyway?” she suddenly asked. It wasnt everyday that people would willingly venture into the Forest of Balor.

She saw him rip the bottom of his shirt. Thankfully he’d been chivalrous enough to turn is back while she’d undressed. At first she thought he was staring at her chest, but then realised it was at her wound. If it had have been the first, then she couldn’t have dealt with pervertedness. And on both of their accounts they had no choice but to look at one another. Well the wounds anyway.

"I'll need you to, lie down,"

Oh come on! She looked at him in disbelief.

So now after making her take most of her clothes off he wanted her to lie down. This was defiantly improper! She frowned slightly at him, “Perhaps it would be better if I treated you first – after all, and I said earlier that it’s only a scratch”.

That was a lie. The so-called ‘scratch’ was practically a large cut. She’d studied it earlier as she’d…erm…taken her clothes off for him. Lying down? What on earth was he planning on doing? They were in a cave and not in full dress for crying out loud! Anyone who would’ve passed them at that point would have instantly raised their brows. Then nature of the situation was an awkward one for sure. Surely it was possible to treat a wound whilst sitting down?

“I should go and get some water, that way at least im safe in the knowledge of knowing that I’ve cleaned your wound before it could become infected”

She had a drinking pouch with her that she could fill and use. Here she was by a stream in her underskirts. It was like every mans fantasy if they were to walk past!
The whole thing was completely insane, so the sooner they’d dealt with one another the better.

She ventured back to the cave and held up the pouch for Arthur to see. “Now, at least we have something to use that will help”.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Her question was . . . a slightly difficult one to answer. How could he phrase it so that he didn't sound like a total nut? I had been enchanted, in love with a princess, and when the spell was broken needed to clear my head by heading off and hunting by myself. Oh and by the way, I'm the Prince of Camelot. That did not seem like the wisest answer. Just as she mentally thought out the absurdity of their situation, Arthur too thought of the absurd circumstances that got him into even a more obscure situation. "I was out hunting," he answered in a very casual tone, deciding not to go into too much detail about it. He did not want to lie . . . there was no need for it. So may as well give a laconic answer for now and go into more details later if necessary. So far, he was focusing more of his energy on convincing her to let him tend to her wound before she got to his. Their conflicting insistences may just lead to a continuous debate . . . until one of them proved the other right by passing out. That was not something Arthur wanted to be right about.

So his remark about lying down had not been taken as easily as his one of her removing her dress. But again it stemmed for the equal concern they seemed to have for one another. That, or she just did not want to be so submissive which Arthur of course understood completely. He did not want to push her, but again, did not like the way that wound was looking. "It looks like more than a scratch," he stated. It was a large gash and he needed her to permit him to bind it. Get some water. Yes! Excellent idea! He nodded in agreement but before he could object to her being the one to go, she hurried off. Arthur stood at the entrance of the cave, scanning his surroundings and making sure that none of the men caught sight of the woman they had pursuing . . . for seeing her in her under dress may only make them chase after her more.

He did not hear or see anything too suspicious, but still had his guard fully raised just in case. He partly turned his body so that he could keep an eye on her as well as figure out how they were doing to do this. He picked up the scrap of his shirt and began to dab the blood away from his cut, cringing at the sensitivity of it. While he was still not convinced that hers was worse than his, he was not going to deny her assistance in helping him to bind it. It was too much of an awkward angle to access himself. He let out a heavy sight, more out of annoyance for getting injured above all else. When she returned he shifted all his focus on her, looking at the pouch now filled with water, gently taking it from her. "I would really feel better if you at least let me bind your wound first." To further show his stubbornness, he crouched down, taking her stripped off dress and bunching it up so that she would have something to lie her head on, only making it slightly more comfortable . . . but at least it was something.

He may have to give her his glove to bite down on as well if it was more serious than it already looked -- which was entirely possible. "Please," he urged, looking up at her as now he was crouched on the ground and she still standing. "You're losing a lot of blood," he added, hoping that this would convince her to lie down and just let him see the severity of the wound. He already had his brown vest to use as a bandage, small scraps of cloth to wipe away the blood, water to help wash it away, and a make shift pillow which was . . . for her comfort. As if any of this could possibly be comfortable for her. He knew it could not be. She was exposed in attire that was not appropriate for a strange man to see . . . she had his understanding, but not enough to discourage him from helping her.

[Romily de Braose]

She handed him the pouch of water. How on earth they were going to help their wounds with just water and a few cloths she didn’t know. They could still become infected.
She set herself down on the rock and self consciously pulled the top of her under dress up a little more over her chest.

"I would really feel better if you at least let me bind your wound first." She heard Arthur say.

“I told you im fine” she sighed, “we could sit here and have this argument until one of us passes out, yet I still stand by what I say”. She stood up and pulled her hair around so that it draped over one of her shoulders. “It’s awkward enough being half naked in a cave with a man who I barely know, let alone having a disagreement about who needs to tend to who first”

Romily was sure that this was an encounter that she would remember for a long time. And possibly never live down. Eldon’s daughter would have a field day if word of this got out. Romily wasn’t going to go barging back into the inn and yelling out that she’d been taking her clothes off in a cave with a stranger. No matter how much the villagers loved gossip.

"Please," Arthur was now giving her a look. It had some kind of desperation to it, although Romily wasn’t sure whether it was for her benefit or his.

She looked down to where he was bunching up her dress to make some kind of headrest or something. She put her hand to her wound. It was bleeding quite badly. In the end she sighed. “Fine”. She felt as though she could trust him enough with this.

With that she lay down and rested her head on the dress that he’d made to comfort her head on. “But you’ll be the first to know of it if it hurts”.

Anyone passing the cave right now would wonder what the hell was happening in there. Even in her head everything that they’d said to one another had sounded or had been spoken wrong. Her next words didn’t exactly help matters.

“As soon as you’re finished with me, I want you lying down so as I can tend to you – and no excuses”.

Oh dear.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Even if she wanted to toughen it out; even if she said she was fine . . . the blood seeping through her dress suggested otherwise, and he was going to take no chances. Besides, he didn't ask her to remove her dress for no reason. He had done so not so that he could act like a peeping tom and get a sneak peak of what was underneath. Or well, not even a sneak peak . . . as they were in a cave together. But nothing could be further from his intentions. He wanted to help her, not ask her to strip for a free show to provide him some strange sense of satisfaction. Arthur was a gentleman, even if his blunt statement may have implied otherwise. She began to vocalize these strong feelings of discomfort, and Arthur would have expected no less. She had proved to be a modest woman with her actions of reluctance so her saying such a thing did not surprise him.

He knew that he could try to alleviate his discomfort but it may not even prove to have any effect. "I understand," he told her in a genuine voice of understanding. "I know I can say nothing to convince you to trust me, but I hope that my actions will do as much." All she really had was the fact that he had helped her in the woods . . . but even then, any man's incentive could be less than honorable for helping a distressed maiden. "I would not have asked you to remove your dress, if there was any other way," he added, just for extra reassurance, though he was unsure if it made any difference. He had to at least try and ease her mind, even if it was fruitless; if it had the slimmest change to have a positive impact, then he would take it. Much to his relief, she accepted his persistence and lay down in the make shift pillow. Arthur gave a short nod when she said that he was next. "Agreed," he answered, not about to argue with her again when she was complying with what he requested. He then he reached over for his glove while still holding on to the pouch of water.

He knelt down next to her, feeling slightly light headed as he did so. He blinked a couple of times, his vision only temporarily blurring as he re-focused himself and could once again see a clear image of her. It was probably just from the small loss of blood. No matter. Right now, she was the priority -- despite what she had argued. He brought the glove towards her mouth, pausing several inches away from it. "You may want to bite down on this," he told her. The last thing either of them needed was to risk a screaming woman just in case Cenred's men were still lurking about in the forest. While he awaited her answer to whether he chose to bite down on it -- which he really hoped she did for it would help to have something to sink your teeth into during this process -- he titled the pouch of water, not using it all but only using some to wash over the wet and some of the dry blood in her wound. It would undoubtedly sting which is why he hoped she took him up on the offer of the glove.

[Romily de Braose]

No, of course this wasn’t awkward at all! In all honesty, Romily thought that the blood seemed to be draining from Arthur’s face by the second. He didn’t look that good and she was wondering whether to just pin him down (despite his protests) and just tend to him there and then.

She knew that this wasn’t the easiest option as:

1. He was bigger than her
2. It would look as though she wanted something else if she just randomly pinned him down!
3. There was no number 3

“Are you sure?” she asked, “You’re not looking too good yourself”

Romily couldn’t help but wonder whether she’d be right on this occasion. Her wound wasn’t as deep as Arthur’s and he’d had a sword inflict it, she on the other hand? Well she had no idea as to how she got her own.

"You may want to bite down on this,"

A glove? She looked at him and shook her head. “I have a high pain threshold” she lied. Then again she had no idea whether she did or not. There was always a time and place to find out

Unfortunately now.

“You can’t be serious?” what use was a glove anyway? It would hardly make the pain go away. “Anyway, one of these days I may have to endure pain far worse than this wound,” she stated. It was true. Childbirth was most likely more painful than this! “Thank you for your concern any how”

She saw him blink a few times, as though his vision wasn’t all there. “Are you sure you’re all right?” she asked and then before she could say anything else, she felt it. The sharp sting.
It didn’t hurt as much as she thought it would. Then again she was sure that the areas around the wound had gone numb in the process.

“Ouch”

[Arthur Pendragon]

No, Arthur wasn't sure about his wound. What he was sure of was that he needed to take care of hers first, whether it was based on nothing else other than sheer concern for someone above himself. "I'm fine," he lied. Had he known she had been lying about the pain, he would have thought it ironic that amidst their attempts to gain some trust between each other . . . they were lying about small little things. Of course, those small things may turn into something bigger, but not for the time being -- hopefully. He wasn't sure he liked the idea of her rejecting having something to bite down on, but he could not force her by stuffing the glove in her mouth. He believed that was called smothering someone to death. And he was trying to help her, not kill her! "Don't worry about me, just focus on yourself right now," he told her politely, but stubbornly. If she was going to tend to his wound later then she may as well focus all her energy -- whatever energy she did have -- on her own injury rather than wasting it worrying about his.

Thought he would not so readily admit it, the light headed feeling he had gotten earlier was not subsiding as well as he had thought. He was feeling a bit more dizzy, but forced himself to remain concentrated for the last thing he wanted was to mess this up which could only cause her further harm. He needed to stay awake, stayed conscious and fully alert, and also prepare for the possibility that Cenred's men had not given up the search. That the cave was not as inconspicuous as they had initially thought it to be. Hopefully, this would not be the case but better to be prepared on the off chance if it was. He just set the glove to the side, in case she changed her mind about it. She seemed to be tolerating the pain well enough, though it did not make Arthur tend to it any more harshly. He was still trying to be as delicate as possible, but he did know that the sooner he did it, the sooner it would be over.

Once the water washed away the blood, he could get a clear image of the cut. It was deep, and may require a physicians professional care. But in the meantime, he would have to do what he could. He grabbed his vest and began to dab away the blood around it so that he could wrap a bandage around the actual wound. "Where are you from?" He asked, questioning this for two reasons. One, so that he would know what direction she would have to go back to in order to get home and could therefore better escort her back. He wasn't about to let her wander around by herself in the forest, especially after what happened to her when she had done so in the first place. The other reason for this question was in hopes of distracting her by bringing up some conversation. This way, she would not be so focused on the pain, even if she said she had a strong threshold for it. As she wasn't biting down on the glove, maybe she would prefer a little friendly conversation in its stead.

[Romily de Braose]

Focus? On herself? Romily was more concerned that she’d be dragging him into a new hiding place if he were to keep his wound unattended for much longer. She wasn’t so sure that he should be doing this, but his stubborn words had forced her to just shut up and lie there until he’d finished.
She could tell that he wasn’t a man to back down easily, neither was she. It was all swings and roundabouts.

She felt him dab at the wound. She wondered whether it needed more professional care. Any care at the moment was enough to keep them going until they managed to find any physician that would look at their wounds for them.

Romily was so lost in her thoughts that she had only just realised that Arthur had asked her a question earlier on. Where she was from? She was sure he asked that.

“Carmelide” she replied, “Originally – I work as a barmaid in an inn, in a village that is a little far from here” she told him. She didn’t want to bore him with the details of why she was out stalking about the Forest of Balor. Hopefully he wouldn’t question whether she was of nobility. Everyone she’d come across so far had mistaken her for a noble, and had then given her a look of ‘shock’ when she dismissed it. No matter how far you tried to run, the past would always keep up with you one way or another.

She lifted her head slightly to see how the wound was healing. There was quite a lot of blood, even if he had washed most of it away already. It looked bad. She wondered if it was near enough fatal or not. She decided that it wasn’t. She’d probably be dead by now.

“How about you? You said you were out hunting – are you from around here?” she asked.

Many hunters travelled out of their range for a better kill, so it wouldn’t have come as a surprise to her if Arthur were from a kingdom not too close, yet not too far away.

[Arthur Pendragon]

He was relieved when she began to talk about where she was from and further more, where she worked. Her occupation was not one that he would have expected her to have. She did not look like a bar maid . . . she did not fit that 'type' of woman. Not that there was anything bad about them. There was just an image that went along with each other and well, Romily did not quite fit that. He couldn't be one to judge though. He was after all a Prince, who was in the middle of the Forest of Balor, in a cave, with a skimpy clad woman. Appearances could indeed be deceiving. "I have been to Carmelide a few times," he revealed, letting her know that he was familiar with the area. Among his many travels he knew most areas surrounding Camelot extremely well. "You still seem to be far away enough from home," he added, an attempt to subtly -- or maybe no so subtly -- inquiring as to why she had been wandering the dangerous forest. He decided not to comment on her not looking like a bar maid as he did not want to offend her . . . even though he would have meant it as more of a compliment.

"I'm from," he paused for a moment, only to catch his breath and collect his thoughts. Not because he had forgotten where he was from . . . though it was getting more difficult for him to think and speak, which was not at all a good sign. "Camelot. It as well is not far from here," he told her, wondering if she had ever visited the great kingdom. Of course he was bias in saying it was great but it was one of the many things that he was extremely proud of. It was a beautiful kingdom and why not brag about it whenever given the opportunity to do so.Once the blood was wiped away, as much as he could do anyway, he took one of the scraps of his shirt that he had ripped off and began to tie it around the wound, making it tight to add pressure to it. "We're going to have to find someone to take a look at this," he informed her. Arthur training in tending to battle wounds was extensive, but it was also limiting. It was meant to only last the person long enough to see a physician who could properly tend to it. This would do for now, but it would not last for a long time.

He raised his arm, wiping the perspiration from his forehead with the back of his hand as he blinked a couple more times, feeling as if he was losing his breath . . . and losing sight. "There's a village not far from . . . " He paused once again, trying to focus in staying conscious. He cleared his throat a bit, suddenly feeling uncontrollably weak. "Not far from here. We can go there and . . . " But Arthur's voice trailed off for all strength left him as did consciousness. Had he had better prepared for it or had more control over the direction of the fall -- not that anyone really did anyway -- he would have forced himself to fall backwards. But instead, he fell forwards, conveniently -- or not so conveniently -- right on top of her. His chest now covered her stomach where he had just bound the wound as all darkness had abruptly consumed him and he remained for the time being, in a completely unconscious state.

[Romily de Braose]

She looked at him in surprise when he announced that he’d been to Carmelide. It wasn’t exactly the nicest of kingdoms. “I know…better to be far from there than near” she replied a little bitterly, and then lay back down.
Surely he was nearly finished now. He was from Camelot? She was sure she’d heard him say Camelot.

“I know of the place – never been though” she told him, “my father told me stories of it- apparently it’s a beautiful city, but then again it’s not exactly the best place to end up in if you have any magical abilities”.

His breath was becoming more ragged. She could tell that something was wrong now. He was pausing in between sentences and trying his best to then carry on with the conversation. “Arthur?” she asked, “I really think it’s best that you should lie down”.

He carried on binding the wound. Not one to follow instructions then. Typical man. “Im sure that we’ll survive for a little while longer once we’ve bound these wounds”. She stated, “Now lie down before you…”

OOFT!

OUCH! Now that had hurt. Before Romily could even so much as get up, Arthur had gone forward and seemed to have apparently passed out on her, and the area her wound was in!

“…Pass out…” she finished and tried to punch him off of her, “Ow! Arthur!” she flailed her arms out from side to side, “Can’t…breathe!”

“Arthur!” She attempted to shift herself from under him but he was far too heavy to move. The fact that she was gasping his name would help matters if someone were to discover them. When he finally regained consciousness, she made sure that she would kill him for this!

She managed to free her top half, quickly yanking her dress back over her chest where it had started to fall down as a result.

Finally! She was free! Romily wriggled out from underneath him and then attempted to turn him over. “Geez you’re heavy! What have you eaten today? A herd of cows!” she rolled him onto his back and paused to get her own breath back.
Oh well, at least he wouldn’t protest any longer at having his wound cleaned. She grabbed the pouch and poured some gently over his wound, ripping her dress and using the material to clean it, like he’d done so with her. “Thanks for passing out on me – literally” she shook her huffed and shook her head, carrying on cleaning the wound. It was very deep and would defiantly need the attention of a physician rather than a noble disguised as a barmaid.

She ripped up more of her dress and then bound it, trying to free her arm from underneath his back as it became trapped when she began to bind it round the area. She yanked it out and secured the rest into a knot. That would hold for now, until they managed to get to someone more experienced.

Dampening down another bit of her ripped up dress (which now made her resemble a peasant rather than a barmaid), she poured the last of the water over it and placed it on his forehead. He looked hot to her, and the last thing she wanted was him catching a fever or infection from the wound.

She sighed and sat back rasing her brows as she watched him. “Told you so”

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur heard nothing of her words. They were just distant, background noise. Had he heard her say that she could not breathe, or express her pain in where he had landed on top of her . . . he would have certainly moved. But he had no control over himself right now. He could not move. He could not open his eyes. He felt completely weak; random images flashing in his mind at such a rapid pace that he could not differentiate between them. He just knew that with all the darkness around him, he did not feel so dizzy any more. There was no need to force his eyes open because he was trying to tend to her wound. He barley felt his body being moved, not even remotely conscious enough to acknowledge it. Or to even hear her words about his weight -- which was probably for the best. He perhaps would have taken that a bit too personally, as he is rather sensitive about his weight.

The fact that his wound was being properly tended to, preventing him from losing any more blood, was what slowly brought him back to consciousness. But not entirely. He only moved his head to the side a bit and let out a small groan. He tried to force his eyes open, but his eye lids felt far to heavy. It was easier to keep them closed and just lie here, but something was compelling him to open them. A strange voice inside his head was telling him to wake up and realize where he was. And who he was with -- apparently. For that distant voice in the background suddenly became closer and clearer. After who knows how long, as sense of time was lost to Arthur right now, he very slowly opened his eyes, but only half way as that was the best he felt he could do right now.

The first image he saw was a half dressed woman. One he did not immediately recgonize. She was blurry but he still saw her clear enough to know that she was young and that she wasn't wearing a whole lot. Then, he slightly raised his head so that he could look down, and saw his wound -- not bound with cloth -- but what he noticed even more was his state of dress, which was also lacking in clothing. Unable to hold up his head any longer he went back to his initial position of resting it on its back as he looked up at the ceiling. The ceiling of a . . . cave. They were in a cave. He closed his eyes, succumbing to the weakness that still consumed him. Ready to enter a peaceful sleep yet again --- . . . . . . . . . . . WAIT! They were in a cave?! He was in a cave?! He was in a cave without a shirt on! He was in a cave without a shirt on with a woman in her ripped up under dress! Oh. Dear. God.

Piecing all these together his eyes shot open again and he jolted himself up. But he was only able to raise the upper half of his body, now sitting up, but still finding it extremely painful to do so. For one, he felt extremely dizzy and disorientated from having just passed out. And the the other factor that caused him pain, was the still fresh wound on his chest. His abrupt movement caused an intense surge of pain through his body and he emitted another groan, but this time, forcing himself to stay sitting up. "What . . . " He could not finish his sentence for he felt far too confused. Far too disorientated. Far too . . . just, completely out of it. He had to blink rapidly a few times and briefly widen his eyes of only to make them stay open. Whatever situation he had gotten himself into, it was not good. Oh no! What if this was another enchantment?! Just like the Vivian one?! What if, instead of being caught in a bed and the enchantment being broken when he was on the brink of death . . . he was made aware after everything had happened, only this time, in a cave!