Bad Romance? [Arthur|Romily]

[Romily de Braose]

Romily had curled up on the floor and had fallen asleep. Her body felt tired and heavy – no doubt the wound was making her feel like this. It still bled a little, no matter how good Arthur had bound it.
She had no idea how long she’d slept, or even if Arthur was still breathing? Thankfully she checked and he was.

"What . . . "

She looked up as he was trying to sit up. She got up and pushed him back down again. “I’d best stay lying down if I were you – I don’t want you literally passing out on me again,” she told him gently.
Romily took the torn fragment of dress from his forehead, wetted it down again and then popped it back on. “Your wound was far deeper than mine, you need your rest”

With that she sat and leant back against the cave wall again, watching him attempting to come to his senses. Obviously he had no clue as to where he was and why there was a half dressed woman with him. She’d have thought the same if she were in his shoes.

“Don’t go dying on me now” she told him sternly, “I don’t want to have to be out there digging a grave in just this” she looked down at her under dress. Ripped, bloodied and dirty. She’d most likely be mistaken for some kind of strumpet if she were to walk out in just that.

Romily hoped that he wouldn’t die on her. For one she didn’t want to have to dig his grave, and two? He was the only person who she could depend on right now.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur still wasn't sure what was going on. He was injured? Well, that certainly felt right. But how? How had he possibly ended up in here? In a random cave? How had he gotten injured in the first place? When she pushed him back down, he did not object. It felt better to be lying on his back than trying to sit up. He was not sure he was ready for that. At the least time, he felt too restless as his unsettling confusion was slowly increasing and he did not think he could just lie here without getting answers. Though, she had provided him with some. He had passed out. He had been wounded, and her comparison implied that she had been too. She was also taking care of him. He closed his eyes as the cool sensation of the wet cloth on his forehead felt so very good against his warm sweating skin. He opened his eyes again after having just closed them to see if he could get a better picture of her. She was still hazy. But he did notice the long blond hair. And that was when a thought -- or rather a fear -- struck him.

What it . . . her?! Noooo it couldn't be. Could it?! The enchantment had indeed made them both do ridiculous things! What if she kidnapped him and brought him to a cave?! What if the enchantment had not been fully broken on his part -- since it was clearly not broken on hers as of the last time he saw her before leaving Camelot. Would she really go this far?! The spell had been strong. It had caused him to sneak in her chambers late at night -- when he was in love with another woman -- and it made him fight Olaf, nearly getting himself killed! Could it truly be that she had just taken it to another eccentric level . . . could it be that he had let her?! Oh how he hoped it was not true. He could not put Guinevère through more than he already had. She moved away from his side, making her only more unclear to him.

He had to ask. He could not hold back. He had to know if this woman was the one he feared it was. " . . . Vivian?" He questioned in a weak voice, almost afraid to hear the answer. "Is that you?" He further inquired in a weak voice. Oh god. He desperately hoped it was not! If it was indeed, then Olaf would tear apart the kingdom looking for her! And then rip his own head off when he found his daughter in a cave with him . . . half dressed . . . oh dear! This was not good! He prayed that fate was not that cruel to him. He prayed that the spell was fully broken for him, and that she had not made him . . . do anything against his will. But what other logical explanation was there for this situation?! Perhaps his mind was still too fogged to attempt to be rational. Before he leaped to any more conclusions, he would await his answer . . . anxiously . . . and fearfully.

[Romily de Braose]

Vivian? Who was that? Obviously Arthur wasn’t in the right state of mind, as he didn’t even know who she was and was ranting on about another woman.

“It’s Romily” she replied, “My name is Romily”

She sat back against the cave wall and fiddled with her dress. Hopefully Arthur would soon regain the right state of mind and then they’d be able to move to somewhere safer. She really didn’t fancy being stuck in a cave for the night, but if they had to then there was no other option.

Romily doubted that Cenred’s men were still out there. They would have found them by now. Would they? Perhaps they were hiding just a distance from the cave now? Ready to pounce. Romily preferred to make peace with them but in reality she knew that her talents of talking wouldn’t get her anywhere with these men – she didn’t like fighting with a sword either (not unless she was facing her own certain death). Violence just wasn’t they answer, and yet these men seemed to believe that it was?
Romily knew that this had been a bad idea from the start, but no – she hadn’t listened to her conscience.

“Is Vivian your sweetheart?” she asked awkwardly. She didn’t want to, but perhaps that was why he’d fainted on her earlier! He could’ve thought she was Vivian then! Oh dear – she hoped that he’d recover from this soon! She didn’t want him passing out on her again, but conversation needed to be made in order to help him remember where he was, and even his own name – and hers for that matter.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Romily. Hmmm. That didn't sound familiar, and yet at the same time it did. Arthur was just immensely relieved to hear it was not actually Vivian. He exhaled, not even having realized that he was holding his breath while waiting for her answer. She didn't tell him a fake name did she? No. There was something different in her tone. She did not speak with that same, delusional love that Vivian had -- and that Arthur had not too long ago. While he still could not see a clear image of her, he was going to rest assured in her answer and in the way she spoke to him. It lacked that same affection and love that the spell had created. It was all fabricated and as these thoughts of recent events re-emerged in the Prince's mind, he was beginning to remember why he was out here in the middle of the woods to begin with. That was when the sequence of events began to pass through his mind. To riding out on his own for a hunting trip. To dismounting his horse. To bumping into a woman. To fighting off Cenred's men. To finding shelter. To noticing the woman's wound to . . . . . . .

Oh. Well, at least now he knew why he was injured and shirtless, and why she was clad in so little clothing. He once again tried to shift his position, this time not out of alarming unfamiliarity, but more so, just so that he could regain some mobility. Besides, they could not remain in this cave forever. They had to go somewhere else for eventually it would get dark, and he was certain that the last thing either of them wanted was to spend the night together in a cave. They would need proper shelter, and food. As sat up a bit, straining himself to do so but now he would be able to see his surroundings more clearly. He saw his sword lying there, and his vest which seemed damp with . . . blood. Yes, it was unmistakably blood. Seeing evidence of what had taken place here only reminded him of the severity of both their situations.

"Is Vivian your sweetheart?" HELL NO! "No," he quickly answered. He had to of course had answered that question more calmly than the initial response that screamed in his mind. The last thing Vivian was to him was his sweetheart! But Arthur did not feel it necessary to correct the name, and explain that Guinevère was the woman he loved. So many reasons prevented him from doing so, but shame in her status was not one of them. But then, how would he give a reasonable explanation to who she was? Wait . . . would he have to provide an explanation? Maybe he could just dismiss the subject and not have to go into detail about anything. Besides, if he recalled their previous conversations correctly, he had not told her that he was the Prince of Camelot. "We must leave soon," he told her, knowing this was easier said than done as both of them were . . . well, not in the best state. Both clothing wise and physical state wise.

He tried to sit up a bit more, now resting his back against the cave wall as his legs were straight out in front of him. He put one hand gently over his wound as if to brace it for such movement. He looked at her once again, his vision becoming more clear as he now was able to see her face. She was definitely not Vivian. Arthur did not know who she was, other than the fact that she was from Carmelide and a bar maid and that her name was Romily. But he knew nothing else of this stranger, which was probably what had made their situation of tending to each others wounds so incredibly awkward. It had forced a level of familiarity among them that neither felt at ease with. He also noticed that her under dress was torn, and now it made sense as to where the unfamiliar makeshift bandage he felt under his hand, had come from. "We need to get dressed," he added. In saying these words, he knew that he would require her help in getting his shirt on, and wondered if she could put her own dress on with ease. He had thought that their situation could not have gotten any more awkward . . . but he was wrong.

[Romily de Braose]

"No,"

That was good. Well not good for her but her mind was now at ease that he wasn’t mistaking her for someone who he loved. “Do you mind me asking who she is? I must resemble her somehow for you to think that I was this, Vivian” she looked to him knowingly.

Romily nodded in agreement about the whole moving on shortly and getting dressed option. She was getting a little cold in all honesty. She got up and collected her dress that now looked like a puddle on the cave floor. She winced slightly as she leant down to retrieve it and then stood up again, stepping into it and slowly but carefully, pulling her dress up.
Her wound wasn’t too painful anymore. The bound was keeping it from giving her any potential agony – still, she managed to pull it up and push her arms through the sleeves. The only problem was fastening it at the back.

“Erm…” she started, looking a little uncomfortable, “Could you – er – tighten these laces for me please?” How embarrassing.

She knew that they couldn’t be tightened too tight, otherwise the pressure to her wound might cause it to bleed a little more through it’s bound, not that it would make a difference, that section of her dress was covered in blood anyway!

Romily looked to Arthur, “are you sure that you are well enough to go on?” she asked

[Arthur Pendragon]

Damn. So much for avoiding that question. He would have to make it as vague as possible for the situation was far too complicated to go into full detail about. How could he explain about the peace treaties, to someone wanting war, to then someone enchanting him to fall in love with a princess who's overprotective father had challenged him to a fight to the death which Arthur nearly lost to because his head was up in the clouds, and it was Guinevère who had saved his life for a kiss of true love would break the spell. This one run on thought made Arthur's head spin as all the emotions of what he had put Guinevère through, resurfaced. He remained composed though, keeping these feelings to himself as he doubted Romily would want to hear all about his emotional turmoil and plus, Arthur wasn't all too willing to share that with anyone.

As he tried to mentally formulate a suitable response, one that would give sufficient information but not give too much away, he averted his gaze away from her when she began to put on her dress. While he had already obviously seen her in her under dress, it just felt inappropriate and rather intrusive to watch her change back into her dress. He only looked when she asked him if he could tie the lacing in the back. The question was asked as awkwardly as the actual action would be. But Arthur was not about to contribute to the discomfort. He of course had to be mature about this and not act like a giddy young testosterone filled man that he may have been a couple of years ago. He used this request as the motivation to rise to his feet, standing up at a bit of an angle so that there was less pressure on his wounded side. When he was finally standing, miraculously staying balanced on both feet, he began to take a few steps towards her. He did not have to raise his arm all that much to begin to take each lace in either hand and tie it in a loose bow. The height difference made it a very easy angle to reach.

"She's an acquaintance," he answered simply, going back to the question about Vivian. "You reminded me of her because of your hair; it is strikingly similar to hers." Because it was blond and long. That really the only similarity, but Arthur really did not want to explain why he thought that Vivian would have brought him into a cave . . . he did not want to surpass the simplicity of his reason as being merely that they looked alike, and not because she was under a spell that made her madly in love. "I'm fine," he said as he began to work on the second binding. He had no choice but to be fine, for as previously established, they could not stay here and both of them knew that. "How are you feeling?" He asked, in terms of how painful her wound was, if she was still feeling weak due to the loss of blood and such. He may not know her extremely well, but he still held strong concern for her. Plus, maybe the talking would make what he was doing feel less . . . uncomfortable, for the both of them.

[Romily de Braose]

He began to tighten the laces on her dress, just loosely so as it wasn’t showing any flesh that would appear distasteful, but loose enough not to hurt her wound. It was then he began to explain about Vivian.
Ah! So she was an acquaintance! That explained a lot of things. "You reminded me of her because of your hair; it is strikingly similar to hers.”
Romily looked up at this. This wasn’t the first time anyone had mentioned her hair. It stood out like a sore thumb to everyone. She toyed with a strand nervously.

“I see…” she replied, “Well then hopefully it’s not a painful memory, because I do not want to be a reminder of something bad”.

She turned around after he’d finished and looked up at him; he was apparently fine which wasn’t the case. They were not fine. They were both bleeding slowly and surely to death. Some more than others, but she wasn’t about to tell him that. “Only if you’re sure”.

She crouched down and picked up his shirt. “Im good” she lied, she could feel herself becoming rather drained. “Do you need help with this?” she asked and held up the shirt.

If he hadn’t have been able to get it off earlier, then he’d have even more trouble getting it on.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur gave a bit of a smile at her words, of hearing that she did not want to be a reminder of something bad to him. Was what had happened with Vivian good? Not at all. But he no longer associated the two together, now that he could actually see her clearly. "Don't worry," he assured her as he finished off the laces. "I highly doubt you could ever be a stain on my memory." Their situation was not exactly the best . . . it was painful and uncomfortable. But at the same time, she had saved his life. He would not be so quick to forget this. They had helped each other and in that way, it would be something remembering. He hoped his words suggested as such. That despite the awkwardness, there was an underlying . . . what was the word, friendship almost, forming as they had seen each other in their worst and aided one another. It was difficult to take a step back and recognize this when he was lacing her dress of course, but hopefully soon once they were out of this cave, it would be more easily recognized. His words served as a reminder of this as well.

He was as sure that he was alright to travel, just as much as Romily was sure she was alright. Neither of them were fine. Arthur had lied and judging from Romily's pale complexion, she was too. But no good would come of arguing this point. Whether they were fine or not, they had to move forward. They had to continue on before this cave became their grave. Whens he offered to help with his shirt, he thought for a moment if he would be able to get it over his head easily. He tried to move his arm up to test the extent of its mobility. The quick answer was no. He would not be able to reach at the angle he would need to put it on. Yet another awkward moment, but it would soon be over. "I would greatly appreciate that," he said in a tone mixed with sincere gratitude and understanding of the difficult position it would put her in.

They had both been in enough difficult positions today . . . maybe at some point they would become immune to them. But that point was not right now. "If you can just put it over my head, and help me pull my arm through." Yup; definitely not immune for saying these words just sounded absurd as he was asking the poor woman to help him get dressed! Now he knew exactly how she felt when she asked him to fasten her dress lacings. Both things were of necessity, but not practical. "Are you sure you don't want to rest before we continue on?" He asked, unsure of how much rest she had gotten when he fainted, for he did not even realize how long he had been unconscious for. She looked tired though, and wanted to ensure that she was up for the journey ahead of them.

[Romily de Braose]

Now there was the obstacle of actually getting Arthur’s shirt on. Not on herself of course, but on him.
She noticed him try to see how far he could lift his arm, and in her view it wasn’t going to be easy.

She gentle took hold of his arm and slid it through the sleeve first, being careful not to cause him any more pain than he was already in. “Just keep it there for me? That’s better”. She put his arm into a position where she could pull the shirt over his head and then put his better arm through the other sleeve.
Finally it was on, and she pulled the bottom of the shirt down and over his body. “There…all done” she said gently and then turned to pick up her water pouch.

"Are you sure you don't want to rest before we continue on?"

Romily shook her head, “I had a little sleep, not for very long though – I was more concerned to see if you were still breathing or not – we need to continue on anyway, who knows what our wounds may become if we don’t”.

She couldn’t care less whether she actually dropped dead on there way there. Wherever ‘there’ was. At least she’d tried. Her whole body felt weak and she dreaded to think of what she looked like at this moment. Romily knew that if there were an inn or something just outside the forest of balor, then she would most likely make it there.
Any further? She wasn’t exactly sure if she could or not - the looks of things could be decieving.

She looked at him, hands on her hips and determined. “Come on – if im going to die along the way then I may as well do it as soon as possible – this cave isn’t exactly the last place I’d like to see”.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Getting his shirt on was not the most pleasant experience, but this had not been his first battle wound. He had been injured many times before and while some more painful than others, the injury always caught up to him when having to either remove to put on his shirt. Such was the case with the armor and chain mail, but in this case, at least it was just the shirt. He worked through the pain, not about to whine about this. Neither of them appeared to be type of people who complained about their injuries . . . only the injuries of each other as he recalled the small little debate they had on who's wound to treat first. The surge of pain subsided soon enough when -- with her aid and his dependence on his assistance -- his arm swiftly went through the sleeve. "Thank you," he told her, firstly for helping him with his shirt, but also in a larger scale. "For everything," he added with the utmost sincerity. For binding his wound when severely impaired and now for continuing crossing boundaries that two people who met only for the first time, ordinarily did not cross.

He stood there for a moment, adjusting himself as he went over to begin to pick up the contents of the cave while listening to her answer to this question. As he had just thanked her, he did not want it to sound redundant though he would continue to be grateful towards her. "I appreciate all the help you have given me," he added, further explaining his reason for gratitude. "There is a village, not too far from here," he began to describe. He braced himself as he bent down to pick up his sword, putting it in its sheath which he put around him once again. "It is the only place within walking distance," he added. They were in no state to return all the way back to Carmelide or Camelot. They needed to rest somewhere first, for it would be dark soon. He picked up his vest and though it was covered in blood, may be something that they could reuse. He had to stop by the river for a brief moment anyway, just to splash some water on his face to fully wake him up.

When he had everything he needed -- or everything of this had had been sprawled about the cave -- he turned to face her. "You aren't going to die," he said, countering her pessimism. Whether she was joking or not, he did not want her to think she was going to die from the wound. That would not be very encouraging of him at all! "We'll get help once we arrive at the village," he informed her, hoping that there was a civilian there willing to aid them. At least he had a pouch full of coins to pay for food, shelter, and the services of a physician if they were fortunate enough to come across one. With that final assurance, he began to exit the cave. "Lets go."

[Romily de Braose]

"Thank you, For everything,"
Romily looked up. She’d hardly done anything. She shook her head at this.
“If anything I should be the one thanking you – if you hadn’t have fought off that guard then I would surely be dead by now, so thank you – thank you for keeping me safe, even if im just a stranger, thank you for your company, even if it has been awkward, and thank you for seemingly making me your primary concern.”

Ok now this was going over board, “Im in your debt” she decided to finish on that.
She was gladder to hear about the village that wasn’t as far as she’d expected it to be. “That’s good” she nodded, “Perhaps trading in a cave for a bed in some inn wouldn’t be so bad” she then mentally kicked herself, as this sounded very wrong. “Not that I was implying that…well, what I meant was that – well to be blunt I wasn’t saying that we should jump into bed together, I was just saying that for both of us a bed would do us good…not together…alone”.

She was just digging herself into a deeper hole by the minute. “Anyway – lets go!” she quickly followed him out of the cave as he suggested that they move on.

The air felt good as she stepped out of the cave. It was so refreshing to see some form of natural light again. She stopped at the river and filled her pouch with water, so as they could drink from it should they need to. It was also an opportunity to splash some water on the back of her neck. Just what she needed – and it felt good!

She washed some of the dirt out of the ends of her hair that she’d received when fleeing from Cenred’s men. She glanced over to Arthur. “So…tell me more about Camelot”.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Even if she was willing to dismiss her actions, he was not prepared to just let them pass, expectant of someone to help him just because it was the right thing to do. She owed him nothing before, just as she owed him nothing now. Of course, he felt honored that she had spoken such words to him. It only brought back that desire of his to not want special treatment, or immediate respect just because he was a prince. This incident proved what it was to earn someone's trust and respect. Of course, it was better if it were not at her or his expense, but so far, they were still alive. They were still talking. And they were still mobile. Hopefully, the worst would be over and now they could just work on recovering. It was strange, to such a strong understanding among then when he still barley knew her.

"Please, you don't owe me anything," he said in a genuine tone. He did not say this to be argumentative, or even out of sheer modesty. He said it, because he fully believed it. "You are not indebted to me in any way," he added in attempt to further convince her. Even if they were not in Camelot, it was still his duty to protect the lives of innocents. "I am only glad I came when I did. I do not want to imagine what he would have done to you," Arthur said, not wanting to go into detail, but it was not difficult to figure out what was on the mind of cruel men when they had a young attractive woman in their grasps. He would have gone on, had she not start talking about a bed. Or well, not sharing a bed . . . no no, she made that very clear. If nothing else, her little ramble actually amused Arthur. He was used to rambling from Guinevère, as he thought it was an adorable trait of hers, but to hear a stranger talk about such an awkward situation as sharing a bed, after having gone through all they did . . . well Arthur found it humorous.

He expressed as such when an amused smile crept on his lips, probably the most he'd smiled since he first met her. Then, he could not resist any longer. He began to chuckle a bit, unsure of how she would react to his clear amusement. The thought suddenly entered his mind that what if she misinterpreted his laughter for some sort of perverse pleasure over hearing her talk about sharing a bed?! He didn't want her to get that impression at all, especially after all they had been through. He didn't want her to think that this was some sort of sick plan of his. To lure her to a room with a bed so that he could have his way. While Arthur knew he was nothing like that, she may not quite realize that for as they established, they were still in the process of getting to know each other. Either way, he would have to say something to explain his chuckling.

"Don't worry Romily," he began. "I agree with you. A warm bed sounds far more comfortable than the cold ground of a cave." That still didn't quite discourage any doubts she may have about his intentions. "And we will have enough for two rooms." That was just his way of 'subtly' eliminating -- hopefully -- any skepticism she had over what he planned to do at the inn . . . which was of course nothing! And also his way of saying that they had the money to cover whatever they need. It was not meant to be a boast, but merely, a further assurance. One that suggested she would not have to pay for anything. He was not sure how much money she was carrying on her, but he would insist on paying for whatever they required.

When they began to make their way outside, and towards the river, Arthur knew right away that this would be a strained walk for both of them. Best thing they could do would be to keep distracted from the pain, and remain determined to get to their destination. Neither seemed it would be a problem to them. When they got to the river, Arthur crouched down beside it, using one hand to splash water on his face. The cool, refreshing liquid had an immediate effect and he began to cup some in his hand, drinking a bit to prepare him for the road ahead. He also took this opportunity to rinse off his vest from the blood of having wiped away the wound. He smiled again when hearing the question of Camelot; his pride and joy. "It's a beautiful kingdom," he began to explain, not sure he could sum up its beauty and wonder in mere words. "Have you ever been before?" He asked. Judging from her question, he assumed she had not, or at least had not gone there for an extended amount of time anyway.

[Romily de Braose]

Not indebted to him? How could she not be? He’d practically saved her life. “Surely there must be something I can do to repay you?” she asked, shuddering a little when he mentioned about what could have happened if she’d have not escaped the guards clutches. “I do not want to think of it either”.

This was the first time she’d seen him smile since they’d first met. Or even laugh for that matter, now stating that it would be ok and they’d have enough for two rooms at least.
She sighed with relief and then chuckled, “im sorry about that – I felt like and sounded such a fool, and if my father had heard something like that then I’m sure he’d most likely agree”

As Arthur described Camelot, she could only picture a beautiful kingdom, but in that picture lay one dark cloud above it. “My father told me that however beautiful it may appear, there is the matter of people being executed for their…magical abilities” she trailed off, not wanting to seem like she was offending Arthur or Camelot, “however, I have never been” she confirmed, “so I do not know what to expect from it. I hope to go one day though” a small smile swept across her lips, “I can go wherever I like, and I suppose that leaves me free to come and see just how beautiful your kingdom is for myself”.

She stood up and straightened out her dress, “So…what is it that you do? Job wise that is – you already know im a barmaid”

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur shook his head a bit. "You have already done far more than I could have asked." She had entered the most uncomfortable situation for a woman, she had trusted him and she had bound his wound. These were all things that he wished she would not trivialize. They were extremely valuable and were what made him feel more indebted to her than vice versa. "I know that none of this was easy for you. And I wish to thank you for bestowing your trust in me. It is not something I am willing to abuse or take advantage of." For the remainder of their journey together, he wanted her to know that much, as he continued to try and earn her trust instead of take it for granted. He knew that words were words, and that they were meaningless unless the appropriate actions were done. He intended for his actions only to support his reassurances rather than betray them. But once again, this would take time. Time that they apparently had for they had the entire walk to the inn, and then even the time itself spent there.

When she mentioned her father, Arthur nearly kicked himself for not having thought of it sooner. Of course! She must have a family who is terribly worried about her safety! Why had he not considered this sooner? Perhaps it was because the both of them had been rather distracted, but still! "Will your family be extremely worried about you?" He asked, knowing the answer was probably obvious. "We can try to send word from the village to Carmelide to ensure your family that you are safe." She would be recovering in the meantime as they would be too weak to travel, but maybe they could send someone to give word instead. As Arthur already knew, he had the money to pay such a messenger handsomely, and it would be worth the price of course. It may be too far for them to go right now, but it was not impossibly far to get word to.

When she began to speak of the sentence for those with magic, Arthur wondered if she was a practitioner of this. Was she a sorceress? Not all sorcerers looked the same so it was of course possible. It was something he would have to consider, not entirely eliminate. If she was then she probably would not have needed her help to defend herself from Cenred's men . . . on the other hand, people's abilities were varied in strength. It would have to be something that Arthur kept wary of . . . just in case. But he was not quite as paranoid as his father about it. She proved to be no threat for ifs he wanted him dead, she could have already killed him. "Magic is indeed banned in Camelot, and its surrounding kingdoms," he explained [surrounding or allied kingdoms rather], not bothering to go into the politics or specifics of this. It was fairly straight forward, and she appeared to understand this. He smiled in return as she expressed her desire to see Camelot for herself.

"You definitely should," he encouraged. "Perhaps when you are in a better state to travel, I encourage you to visit the kingdom. I assure you, you will not be disappointed." Unless of course she practiced magic . . . but this did not seem to be a thought that effected her reaction when thinking about going. Her next question was a bit more difficult to answer. He did not want to lie to her, but he also did not want to add any more to the awkwardness between them if he revealed that he was royalty. He stood up from his crouched position, draining out the water from his vest. "I work for the king," he answered simply. It was not technically lying . . . it was just leaving out specific details. "What brought you so far into the woods?" He asked, not too abruptly changing the subject -- or hopefully it would not seem this way even if it was he was trying to do. But this was a question that had been on his mind since he had first found her. One of importance too, at least in his mind.

[Romily de Braose]

When Arthur spoke about family, Romily bit her lip. Her father probably didn’t care of she was dead or alive. She’d cut all ties with him and her nobility ages ago.

“I don’t actually live in Carmelide anymore” she started, “I left home last year and travelled for a few months before I found a village to settle in”. at least her father hadn’t come after her. “Besides, I don’t exactly have any family anymore – my mother died when I was three and my father couldn’t exactly care where I am right now”.

She wasn’t about to launch into her problems. She carried on walking and took a nervous swig of water from her pouch – offering some to Arthur. “Thirsty?”

He confirmed that magic was banned in Camelot. So her father hadn’t been trying to scare her on that account. “You work for the king? That must be a privilege” she smiled, “what’s he like? I’ve heard so many different versions of him that I’ve no idea what to believe and what not to”.
Her father had told her that King Uther didn’t care who he executed, so long as the magic was rid of from his kingdom – but he was doing it for the best of his people. Other people had said that King Uther was a tyrant and what did it matter that people were just practicing something they enjoyed.

“One day I shall – you have my word on that” she nodded, “you make it sound so grand that im sure it beats slaving away in the inn”.

Anything would beat that!

“I was taking a shortcut” she rolled her eyes, “little did I know that it would actually get me into more trouble. My employer sent me out to pick up some supplies from his friend who lives not so far from here. I didn’t know that Cenred’s men would actually be stalking about the forest” she explained, “and before you ask, Eldon isn’t one to worry himself about me.”

Eldon didn’t care as long as he got his supplies. Well – it seemed as though he wouldn’t be getting them for a while now.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur listened attentively to her explain her family situation. She had left home? Run away then? At least he could relate in one aspect and that he shared the pain over the loss of a mother. Losing that figure in ones life was something that never really faded, for even though Arthur never knew his mother, he still silently mourned for her every day. Of course, he was not about to delve into such an emotional discussion for it would not be easy for either of them. He only felt that silent sympathy for her without expressing it as such. Had her father not truly tried to look for her? Or beg her to come home? What kind of father was he, that he'd be so passively willing to let his daughter leave the comfort of her home and go god knows where. Did he not fear for her safety every day? Arthur's father was a firm man, but even the prince knew that if he ever went missing, his father would not rest for a moment until he was found.

But again, Arthur knew it would be far too intrusive of him to question such things. So he did not ask her his thoughts, he did not inquire about what kind of father could not care for his daughter, or assure her that he was probably worried for her. It was not his place to say it, even if he felt it. He shook his head, as he continued to be lost in thought, declining her offer for water. He did not need any at the moment and was saving it for her or until he was on the brink of death and couldn't take another step without it. Thankfully, he had not quite reached that level yet. "Is the village quite different from where you originally lived?" He asked. He assumed that she was a commoner, based on her dress and occupation, so decided to ask about her experiences rather than what led her to run away from her home. It was something that would be less emotionally straining for her to explain -- hopefully. And it would allow him to get to know her better as well. All for the sake of some friendly conversation to alleviate the awkwardness of earlier today.

Her next question however was a rather large one: what was the king like. Arthur butted heads with his father, but could never speak ill of him to anyone else. He did not always justify his decisions for sometimes he did not agree with them, but he could never insult the man who raised him, and who he served. Yet, he had to make his relationship sound at least somewhat professional so that she did not suspect he was his son. It was not something he needed to over think. It was very easy for Arthur to emotionally separate himself from a situation . . . sometimes. This time was no exception however. "He is a great king," Arthur began, speaking with as much honesty as he could. "The laws are firm, but he does care about the well being of his people, and the entirety of the kingdom." Even if his father put on such a hard exterior, he knew that it was his own way of keeping a rational head and separating feelings from his judgment. This was something Arthur was not fully well versed in and was not sure he wanted to be. He'd rather rule with his heart anyway.

"When you come to Camelot," -- This time it was a when not if since she gave her word that she would. "Then you will be able to see for yourself what kind of sovereign rules the land." She may not get an audience with him, but hopefully, he had left a good impression on her and gave a good name to the Pendragons. He did hope to see her again, to be able to reward her for aiding him. It was not something he would take for granted and wished to honor her for her actions if ever she did come to Camelot. That day might be in the distant future, or never, but it was a thought that they were both entertaining and vaguely planning towards right now at least.

When she spoke of her reason for being out there, and Cenred's men, and then of yet another person who did not seem to hold concern for her . . . Arthur felt more sympathetic. Such a kind and caring woman certainly deserved the affection of others, to at least be worried for her if nothing else. Apart from the sympathy he felt towards her, it was also admirable for she was clearly a strong and independent woman. Which was why he knew better than to act as if she was a pity case, which she most certainly was not. Arthur's heart just held a weak spot for women, hating to see them unappreciated and taken for granted in any way, shape or form. "I wish he had not sent you on your own," Arthur said, deciding that was the best way to phrase it. "There are many dangers that lurk about the Forest of Balor. He should have known better." It was not a way of underestimating her, but when a person was outnumbered, they stood no chance, regardless of how skilled they were in the art of combat. Even Arthur himself would not have been a match for all of Cenred's men. Maybe a few, but certainly not all of them. Perhaps when Arthur escorting her back to her home, he would have a few choice words with the man about sending his employers off on their own to face such dangers by themselves.

[Romily de Braose]

"Is the village quite different from where you originally lived?"

Romily nodded at this. “Very much so – where I lived was a far bigger place than it though. I was hardly ever allowed out to the city or to it’s surrounding villages – I was kept away from all of that, so I’ve never really had any friends. But I like it that way” she smiled at him, “since my mother died I learnt how to look after myself – so being by myself felt like the most natural thing in the world to me, and I suppose that it still is. I am not used to being around large crowds of people, or even just one person – I hate it, but with my job I’m learning to over come that”.

Romily felt as though she could trust Arthur, no matter how awkward the situation may be. “My father never really took any notice of me as I grew up – acknowledged me, yes. But taking some time to sit down and talk wasn’t his idea of a good time. My father doesn’t waste too much time with talking – he wanted to see me married, but at the same time kept me away from court, I can see why he wanted to protect me. He hasn’t anybody else in the world apart from me, and I suppose that he doesn’t want to lose me too. But he has” she finished.

She was sure that Arthur could see where this conversation was leading.

“A good king who keeps a good balance within his kingdom shall receive far more accomplishment than he would ever dream of – that is what I believe” she told him, “after all, without any subjects and firm laws – how will the people ever learn to trust him or any decisions that he makes? Friendship and trust is a foundation of such an achievement I suppose?”

Romily knew nothing of political affairs, her father knew loads as he was technically on best friend terms with the King of Carmelide, his most loyal and trusted subject and a well appreciated man at court. At home he wasn’t by Romily though – she respected him and did abide by his rules, but there had been times when she’d wanted to speak her mind. She had done, but always chose her battles wisely with him.
“I can’t wait” she smiled as Arthur told her how she’d see what the king was really like when she eventually chose to go to Camelot.

“I’ve looked after myself since I was a little girl – sending me on a trip to get supplies isn’t a risk taking thing in my mind. Besides, im just Eldon’s barmaid, and can be replaced easily” she shrugged.
It was true. Eldon could always find another barmaid should anything happen to her.

[Arthur Pendragon]

Arthur listened curiously and with great interest to her past residence. He did not interrupt her as she spoke of her home, but one word in particular stood out in his mind, and that one word seemed to change the entire dynamic between them -- sort of. Court. Her father tried to keep her away from court. She was of nobility. While Arthur had recognized that she had a very natural elegance and grace, he did not believe that it was solely nobility who possessed such qualities. After all, the woman he was in love with was no noble and she was the most beautiful woman he had ever laid eyes on. His relationships with those of other classes -- mostly Guinevère and Merlin -- had opened his eyes to how their work should never be taken for granted, even if he acted differently, more so with Merlin than Guinevère. He had learned a great number of valuable lessons from each of them, and so perhaps the truth of Romily's title did not alter his perception of her all that much. It did however question why she had run away from that life to one of a bar maid. But, it was not his place to judge, even if he did wish to question out of sheer curiosity.

It was a rather interesting situation she was in, though he supposed he could somewhat understand. The more sheltered a parent kept their child, the more breathing space they would require. Had it been that which forced her away? Or something more? "Are you happier where you are now, than where you were?" He asked. He was not going to express his surprise in discovering she was of nobility. It was a shock, but not something to be consumed with and allow himself to grow even more awkward around her. Nobility or not, she was still a person that Arthur desire to protect her and ensure her safety had not changed. It had not become more important because she was of a higher class than he had thought, nor had it become less significant. "I must admit, you are the first noble woman I have met who left all the riches her life was showered with, to enter a far more simple one." He spoke his words with a bit of a smile, as it was not meant to be an insult. It was more just expressing the uniqueness of her circumstance . . . well, a unique circumstance in his eyes anyway.

"It certainly sounds like you've had the luxury of more freedom though. Perhaps there is no amount of gold to compensate for the lack of liberty." While Arthur was restricted in some ways because of his duties and status -- such as not being able to be with the woman he loved -- he had certainly not been as confined as Romily had been from the sounds of it. If she were not even allowed to attend court, socialize with others, or travel . . . well, Arthur knew he would not be able to survive in that sort of closed environment. Whether she enjoyed it or not, it was better to make that choice for oneself rather than someone else limiting you in such ways and asserting that authority over you. He then listened to her speak of what a good king entailed and what traits he was meant to encompass. "I completely agree," he told her pensively. He remembered once telling his father that it was important to be both of a leader and a friend to the people, but his father did not agree. He claimed they were only his subjects and to gain their respect, one had to express their authority. Arthur could not rule like that. "Trust and respect are earned. They are not automatic privileges," he told her, as that was the mind set he had and the way which he ruled and wished to be king in the future.

On the subject of Eldon, Arthur was still not in any agreement. "No human being is that disposable," he told her. Bar maid or not, no one's life should be devalued like that. "He should not have taken you for granted as he did. No one should." Arthur's perception of equality between the classes was strong. He did not believe that more value was given because of the blood that ran in one's veins; it was given based on ones actions and what was in one's heart. "Though your independence is admirable," he added on a bit of a lighter note, meaning that as a compliment as oppose to sarcastic disbelief. He did not wish her to think he was undermining her capabilities. At the same time, he did not want to pretend as if he were alright with the fact that her employer sent her on a dangerous errand, uncaring as to whether she would be harmed or not because she was 'easily replaceable'.

[Romily de Braose]

None had ever asked her that before – about her own happiness. Romily was a little taken aback by it in all honesty.

“Very much so” she nodded, “I can do anything I like without be judged or watched, I can just be myself”

"I must admit, you are the first noble woman I have met who left all the riches her life was showered with, to enter a far more simple one."

Romily almost gave a small snort, “My life was anything but showered with riches”. This was true; she didn’t exactly lead an extravagant one being confined to her home all day and everyday. “Besides, I like my life now – I get to meet interesting people and strip down in caves with them” she smirked. Romily wasn’t usually one to make jokes, but she assumed that Arthur could take that one without any offence.

“I haven’t told anyone who I am, all except one – so I guess you can feel privileged to be one of the few people who actually know of my true self”. She admitted. The only person to know was Yassia. “Then again, when I think about it – it’s not exactly a privilege,” she laughed.

She shrugged off his words when he expressed his dislike of the situation that Eldon had put her in. “I wouldn’t exactly say it is admirable” she smiled, “it’s always been a part of my life since I was three years old, so to me it’s just an everyday occurrence – to go walking by myself, to run around after Eldon…” she trailed off as she felt a sharp pain shoot through her side and stopped.
Her wound wasn’t looking that pretty, even though it was bound. She needed to carry on though; otherwise they would never get to the village.

“Im sorry” she apologised, “I can’t keep delaying us – lets carry on”

[Arthur Pendragon]

That made sense. It was a kind of freedom that Arthur had thought about. While he could never run from his duties and obligations . . . he would be lying if he said he had not thought about it at times. More so as a hypothetical scenario. Lack of judgment and the ability to be oneself. Those were the same reasons that Arthur would have done such a thing for. No pressures to be someone that everyone expected you to be. But such things were not exactly pieces of information that the prince went around and told people. He had no plans to abandon Camelot, so it would forever remain a What If question in his mind; one that would never be answered. "That makes sense," he told her, vocalizing his very first thought upon initially hearing her words. He was a bit surprised to hear that her life had not been showered with riches, especially as a noblewoman. But if she was more content now, then that was what mattered. He smiled with the way she phrased what had taken place at the caves.

It was something they had both felt awkward about but to hear her mention it now, in such a casual and almost teasing way, felt as if they were already moving past the discomfort it had provided them both with. "I certainly hope that's not a frequent occurrence for you," he told her in a bit of a teasing voice, but at the same time, it was true. For it would mean she was often in caves with strangers, and forced to remove her clothing for . . . whatever reason that Arthur was not going to inquire about. "But if it means that you get to meet intriguing, and fascinating people, then perhaps it is worth it," he said jokingly in an overly arrogant tone which would show that he was just kidding in flattering himself with such compliments. Arthur did have an arrogant air about him at times, but in this case, it was merely a way to lighten the mood and perhaps distract them from the pain he knew they were both in.

He only continued to give a bit of a smile when went on to say that he was one of the few who knew. "Well, I do feel honored then that you trusted me enough with such information." Despite her correction in saying that he shouldn't feel such a way. She had trusted him in many ways, and he could not express how grateful he was for that, for it had not only saved her life . . . but also his own. "I can imagine it is not something you wish to disclose to many, for the same reasons that you left in the first place." That fear of judgment and inability to be oneself. If those were the reasons she had fled her home to begin with, then she may only revert to that same sort of treatment if others were to find out that she was a noble. Obviously, Arthur did not know her exceptionally well enough to know exactly her motives, but he could only use this logic which seemed sound enough. "At least it keeps you busy," he said trying to keep positive, while he was still in disagreement about what Eldon had done. Arthur was feeling more and more inclined to have a conversation with the man when he escorted her back to inn which she worked in . . . whenever that would be.

He was about to say something else, when he noticed she had stopped and he immediately followed suit. He turned to look at her, taking a couple of steps towards her. Her wound was getting worse and Arthur was fearing that it was getting infected more quickly than he thought. He lowered his head a bit to look at it, concern filling him. It wasn't looking good at all. With that conclusion he looked back at her face. "Don't apologize," he said, shaking his head a bit to tell her that she had nothing to be sorry for. "We'll rest here for a while," he told her. His words were not even a question, just a fact. A decision. She should not be apologizing when she was feeling further weakened by something she had no control over. While it was important to get to the inn, he had known from the moment they left the cave that they'd have to move at a steadied pace for neither of them were in the best condition to swiftly travel the tiresome woods.