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Post by Lucy Halacre on Feb 9, 2013 18:24:37 GMT -5
The great city of Camelot was in mourning. It wasn’t quite official mourning, after all, there wasn’t a dead body in the royal chambers of Camelot castle… yet. But King Uther Pendragon had been fatally stabbed and according to everyone who was anyone, the wound was sufficient to carry out its purpose. The whole city had been affected by the tragedy, naturally. The streets seemed darker now, an occurrence that wasn’t unfounded in Lucy’s mind, as most passers-by had chosen to display their grief by wearing black clothing of some kind.
She herself had abandoned her usual inconspicuous green cloak for one charcoal-coloured, but this too made her blend into the crowd. Grief was a surprisingly easy atmosphere in which to remain hidden. Grief and jubilance… times during a King’s reign when almost anybody could pass unnoticed. Times also which were surprisingly good for business. Selling had picked up that week, as though stab wounds were infectious. Tension in the city was fraught of course and inevitably tavern brawls had broken out, over support to Arthur or Uther, over bets on how long the old king would last and even the new king’s longevity too.
Lucy had just departed the home of one such brawler, who had sunrise in his eye as shiny as the Crown Jewels. She’d put a spread of comfrey on the black eye, charged a few coppers and been on her way; she was used to being in the company of known rogues due to the amount of time she spent healing them, but she would never get used to their blatant disrespect towards the monarchy.
She was just going home to organise her stock – it was considered unlucky to leave the city, even to gather herbs, during waiting tension like this, one might miss the King dying and that would never do – when very suddenly somebody addressed her. “Lucy.” Deep. Masculine. Out of place.
Lucy looked up towards the face of the person who was blocking her path. Prince Arthur Pendragon. Heir to the throne and could be inheriting it within the day. Not the kind of person she could invite back to her humble abode for tea rather than making conversation in the middle of a crowded street. Especially not with his father dying. Unsure of what he wanted from her, Lucy executed an odd little curtsy, caught out by both the routine familiarity of her surroundings and the strangeness of meeting the Prince there.
“Sire,” she murmured quietly, bowing her head deferentially and sorrowfully, as was only respectful.
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Feb 9, 2013 10:41:00 GMT -5
- YOU MARRY: Leon, d'aww!
- YOU ARE A: smuggler!
- HOBBY: being extremely clever and funny
- CHILDREN: three
- KINK: george & breakfast
- DEATH: immortal!!
Sheer brilliance!!
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Feb 8, 2013 14:06:51 GMT -5
ARTHUR! They're the loveliest things on the planet! Seriously! I am SO grateful!!
THANK YOU! ;D |
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Jan 30, 2013 17:14:07 GMT -5
The time passed slowly, as if in a haze. Lucy trudged along the well-worn paths to and from Camelot with the weariness of one who had settled into travelling over long periods of time but was tired nonetheless. Her large leather pack was slung over her shoulder, but it was heavy with herbs and was cutting into her. The herbs; they were the reason for her long hike out of the Kingdom of Camelot into the neighbouring one of Caerleon. Mercifully they were allied and so Lucy didn’t have to employ a magical masquerade to hide herself. She wasn’t a particularly good sorcerer and masquerades like invisibility or glamours were exhausting and complex.
After all, all she wanted to do was pick herbs.
Unfortunately, the particular herbs that Lucy had found herself in short supply of three days ago were that terrible combination of rare and essential. She had been fine on the two day walk to Caerleon; her pack had been empty and she had found a comfortable clump of bushes to spend the night under, although her appearance was much the worse for that particular break. Usually she did have a little trouble from the kind of rogues you often met on the roads but once said rogues realised she carried only a sack of herbs and little else, they left her alone mostly. Those that didn’t met a bad end, on the end of the knife concealed in her belt or because of a spell, though hers lacked the power to make them fatal.
A twig snapped a few foot up from the valley path that she was travelling on and Lucy gripped the handle of her knife, cursing herself for dwelling on past attacks instead of heading quickly towards home. Any scenario she could have imagined however, was better than the one she was currently facing, as bearded and toothless men began to emerge from their various hiding spots. One, Three, Four… Six. Total. Bands of two or three she could manage… but six?
Hopefully they would be after better loot than a young girl travelling alone with only a meagre cargo of herbs but from the way they were descending the rocks on either side with lecherous smiles; Lucy could only imagine that they had decided she would do. A knife and petty magic tricks against six men with bad intentions, reputations and broadswords. She didn’t stand a chance; even her chances of using her light frame to outrun them were slim… six men could block her off a lot easier than a duo or a trio.
“Herbs,” she told the man who appeared to be the leader; he had chainmail as well as the boiled leather that the others were sporting. Lucy threw her pack to him, which he caught deftly. “That’s all I’m carrying.”
The leader checked her pack quickly to confirm, then pushed it into the hands of one of his boisterous friends. “Well love, we’ll have to check you’re not lying now.” The grin he was now sporting made her want to gag. “Search her, boys!”
With no other option left to her, Lucy began to scream, long and loud.
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Oct 23, 2012 12:10:48 GMT -5
 | ~ • ~ | Character Basics | ~ • ~ |
.:Name of Character:. Lucy Antoine Halacre
.:Nick Name:. Lucy, Luce, Lu
.:Age:. 19
.:Status:. Peasant/Citizen
| ~ • ~ | Appearance | ~ • ~ |
.:Physical Appearance:. Lucy has soft, sleek brown hair which falls down to her back. Her eyes are a light grey colour which isn't easy to forget. She wears the clothes of any other Camelot peasant, tatty dresses of neutral colours, but she has a prouder posture than the rest and somehow her clothes fall differently. She is healthy and fit, with a slim face and stature. Her skin is milky and usually has a healthy glow, because of the herb pastes she sometimes uses on it. Her facial features are defined, and she has prominent cheekbones. Overall, she is a pretty girl who some would say was 'wasted' working on the Market herb stall.
.:Height:. 5"4
.:Portrayed by:. Michelle Trachtenberg
| ~ • ~ | Personality | ~ • ~ |
.:Personality:. Lucy knows and uses magic, and so has various loyalties and various qualities that sometimes contradict one another. She can lose her temper and direction, but ultimately, she is a very good, kind person. Her loyalty is and always has been to Camelot, to her friends, but the royalty's hatred of people like her puts her in great conflict at times. She is also loyal to the druids, with whom she has good relations. Lucy believes herself and the druids to be more at one with the Earth in their magical ability, and she has helped and been helped by them many times in the past.
Nevertheless, she is happy in Camelot and would never think of permanently leaving, unless her life was at stake. She knows the people of the Lower Town, they are her family and her friends. She has a comforting pattern in her days, something Lucy knows will not last forever, but when the day comes when she is discovered or betrayed, she will take the consequences, knowing that she has brought them upon herself.
Above all, Lucy belongs in the woodland, a place which she makes her living from, but could and would easily call home. She gathers her herbs from there and sells them fresh from her market stall.
.:Strengths:.
[-] Herbs and Vegetation-----Lucy considers herself an expert on such matters.
[-] Healing-----Lucy can use a combination of her magic and her herbs to heal people better than most.
[-] Hearing-----Lucy is a better listener than a speaker. She will happily aid people, both physically and emotionally.
.:Weaknesses:.
[-] Relatives-----Lucy has locked memories and emotions of her family away deep within her mind and it is painful for her when somebody so much as mentions them.
[-] Rathorson, Maie-----Somebody who looked after her for a long period of her life, Lucy never quite settled her lot with her. She feels guilty about Maie.
[-] Recognition-----Lucy is a very humble person, and is embarrassed when somebody recognizes her.
.:Magic Abilities:. Lucy practices simple healing magic, which she cautiously and occasionally puts into herbs when the situation calls. She has a larger potential to expand her abilities, but is happy using it quietly for good deeds. Despite the 'natural' aspect of her magic in that she uses the Earth's materials to heal, she is very much limited to using it through words, like most who claim such abilities.
.:Special Skills:. Healing
.:Accents:. Lucy speaks in the usual manner of every good Camelot citizen.
| ~ • ~ | History | ~ • ~ |
.:Birthplace:. Lower Town, Camelot
.:Family:.
Mother-Amretta Halacre, deceased
Father-Diono Halacre, deceased
Brother-Mirao Halacre, missing, presumed dead
.:Occupation:. Herb Trader
.:Current Location of Residence:. Lower Town, Camelot
.:History:.
Lucy was born on the 25th of January, to blacksmith Diono Halacre and seamstress Amretta Halacre. The young couple were popular in the town and their young son and daughter no less so. Lucy grew up in an ordinary home, where both parents tried to make ends meet. Diono was a reliable blacksmith if the Court one was unavailable or busy. Amretta was a skilled seamstress that received commissions from almost every Lady in Camelot.
One day, when Amrettta received a commission from a Lady that was willing to pay extra for exotic fabrics, Diono decided that the whole family could use some exposure to culture. Lucy, at the tender age of one and a half, was far too young for the three consecutive days of travel it would take to reach Mercia. She was left behind with a close friend of the family.
Four days after their departure, a trio of Knights from a Camelot patrol returned bearing the bodies of Lucy's mother and father, along with a wandering trader sometimes sold his wares at the Camelot market.
Mirao's body was never found.
The woman she had been staying with who agreed to take her in permanently. To call the woman, Maie her name was, blunt or strict would be unfair. But Maie was at the age of attracting a husband and having an infant slowed her down considerably.
One day, when Lucy was ten, everything came to a head. Maie, sick of having to provide for two people without a man, and becoming penniless, she too it out on the only person she could. Lucy.
The young girl took the words to heart and ran away, believing that Maie no longer, or maybe had never, cared about her. She was attempting to find Mirao, her long lost brother. Instead, she found the druids.
Lucy had always known that she had links to magic through her mother's side. But that was all it was to her. She had to light fires manually and wash clothes without the use of pretty words. But as soon as she stumbled across the druids; it became a more important feature in her mind. The druids had recognised her; something about the eyes they said; and told her about her grandmother, who had been a renowned druid healer. Apparently, the more she grew the more she resembled her.
The druids didn't see Lucy as the lost, grieving young girl she was. They saw only what she would become. Seeing as she had nowhere else to go, they cared for her, and tutored her in magic. The druids took a much more educational and slow route to teach her, like with other druid youths. They taught her how to write and read both in the common language and the Old Tongue, how to distinguish a Weevil from a Wyvern, how to make full use of all of nature's gifts.
When she was fifteen, she made a decision, helped by her druid friends and the Elders. She knew a little magic, but nothing near her full potential, and she also knew that if she was going to go back and prove herself to Maie and Camelot, now would be the time. It was hard leaving the camp, where she had belonged for the last five years, but Lucy was confident that she would one day return to do for others what the druids had done for her. But first, she had to repay her ex-guardian.
When she returned to Camelot, she entered the old house only to find nobody living there. The first person she went to was a young niece of Maie's, maybe the only person left in Camelot who she really knew. The niece told her that after she had left, Maie had just wasted away, before eventually succumbing to disease. It was obvious that the niece blamed Lucy for her aunt's demise, and Lucy understood, even slightly shared her viewpoint. The girl had blood on her hands, however much people would tell her it wasn't her fault.
Lucy was completely penniless, with nowhere to stay except the house she had grown up in, but it wouldn't feel right living there. The niece, as Maie's only family, had the rights to the house she didn't know what to do with, and even if she blamed the fifteen-year-old, she gladly handed over the problem to Lucy. With the reluctant help of the niece, she sold it to a young couple and had enough money to keep her going for a while. She was faced with the problem of where to stay, but that was soon solved by a once close childhood friend who had just bought a small house in town. Lucy agreed to live with her and pay rent every month.
She didn't know why she stayed in Camelot, especially with Uther thirsting for magic-users, but her instincts, carefully honed in her time with the druids, told her it was the right thing to do. Lucy settled in Camelot, setting up a stall to sell herbs and medicine, taught to her by druids. She is happy there, and has established friendship, loyalty and familiarity there in the last four years. She now has a place of her own, and lives well under her own income.
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Aug 8, 2011 4:07:37 GMT -5
 Lucy heard the order for the guards to leave, but barely heard it. The Lady Morgana was here! The Lady Morgana! The Lady that had been missing over a month now, was standing almost directly in front of her! But what on earth was she doing in this cold, grey castle; in this beautiful garden? Had she been kidnapped? She seemed awfully benign for someone who had been taken from her life in the lap of luxury, her surrogate family and a court that were enamoured with her.
The even more confusing thing; why was Lucy here with her? If it really was a kidnapping case (Lucy felt the first nudge of suspicion that it wasn’t), then wasn’t there a bit of a difference between victims? The only similarities between herself and the Lady Morgana were sex and age. But if a so-called kidnapper wanted only young women, then why didn’t he just go for women like Lucy who had a meagre livelihood and no family, rather than a young woman who someone would miss within five minutes?
Lucy shook her head. It just didn’t add up.
“What is your name?” The Lady asked her.
She automatically slipped back into her peasant frame of mind, curtsied deeply and answered, “Lucy Halacre, if it pleases milady.”
One thing was plain to Lucy, and that was her brother was not here. That had plainly been a ruse to tempt her to come. The main feature was obviously Morgana, why else would she be greeted by the Lady that all Camelot was searching for? Was this something to do with the druids? Were they the ones that had taken Morgana, perhaps for her own protection from the tyrant King? Did they want Lucy to…help her?
O God, nothing made sense at all. Exhaling, Lucy decided to just go with the flow of things; no doubt her purpose here would soon be revealed, and in the meantime it did her no good at all to guess.
She offered a small smile to Morgana, and waited.
Tag: Morgana
Word Count: 341
Notes: Ack, so sorry! The delay on this post is atrocious; there really is no excuse.
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Aug 7, 2011 14:52:47 GMT -5
Congratulations to all winners! And Gwaine...that quote...
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Jul 10, 2011 5:42:50 GMT -5
Lucy smiled, despite herself. She was sure that the Prince could identify with the kind of adventuring she had done whilst looking for her brother. She’d never come too near to death, but there had been enough close shaves that kept the adrenalin rushing and the experiences memorable. She looked up at the Prince, much happier now that the talk had moved away from her mother. Her brother was a less painful topic, “It was character building,” She said, slightly evasive, “I’m sure I could tell you sometime, if you had a day free, of course.”“Did you ever find him?”She closed her eyes again, trying to phrase the cold, the darkness, the fumbling fights with nameless drunks and the inevitable pain and surrender into a single reply, “No.”He mentioned Gaius being trustworthy and not abusing its uses, but Lucy had had enough of talk about the physician and she pretended not to hear. Even if the herb had existed, which would be a miracle she could do with; Lucy would not have gone near Gaius with any information about it. She had been told many stories about him, had even chatted to him on the rare occasion he came to buy herbs off her, but she didn’t trust him at all. What he had done in the Purge was wrong beyond measure, and Lucy couldn’t forgive him, despite that she barely knew him.
As she proclaimed the less than perfect state of Arthur’s shirt, Lucy watched his face comically transform to satisfied at the state of his recovery to downright horrified that he would be without a shirt for the foreseeable future."You uh, wouldn't happen to have a way to remedy that, would you?"Lucy looked at the remainder of the shirt dangling from her hand. It was ripped into three; one segment was stained with blood and one of the sleeves had been ripped open. She unfastened her cloak from around her neck, and flung it down on the ground to sit on while she thought. She could offer the Prince one of her own garments, but her dress was, well, her dress, and her cloak was distinctly feminine. She couldn’t repair the shirt with neither needle nor thread and there was no way Arthur Pendragon could walk out of the woods and through the town semi-naked. And Lucy was damned if she was going to run to Camelot and back for another shirt, even for the Prince.
That left one solution.“I haven’t finished collecting herbs,” She offered, “You could stay with me until it goes dark and sneak back to the castle then.”It wasn’t the most convenient option for either of them, but it was the best one. It meant that Arthur was going to have to follow her in his half-naked state while she tried to collect the herbs she needed without being distracted. After all, Lucy was only human. She held no power over her own temptation.
She stood up from the floor and dusted herself and her cloak off in a business-like manner, before offering her hand to Arthur.“Come on, then.”Tagged: Arthur
Words: 523
Notes: Aw, thanks. I’ve grown to love her like she’s actually a real person!
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Jun 18, 2011 5:17:57 GMT -5
Lucy kept her eyes down as she spoke lies to the Prince, fearing that he would see the truth concealed in them. Instead, she carefully unwrapped the makeshift bandage on his chest, prising it from his chest first. What little blood there had been before she had cast her spell had congealed on the bandage and had stuck a little to his skin. She threw it to the side when it was finally off, the bandage lying on the torn remains of his shirt.
Whatever last tension Lucy had been holding in her body left it. An ordinary person would never been able to tell the Prince had been injured at all, but her eyes found a red spot on his chest where the arrow had gone in and the blood had come to the surface. With any luck, that mark should have gone within the hour and nobody would ever be able to tell the Prince had had an unfortunate accident on his solitary hunting trip. Which, actually, begged the question; why was he so far from Camelot, and on his own? "I'm sorry about your mother. Whether she knew it or not, she left a great legacy."It was a compliment, perhaps. A compliment shrouded in pity, and perhaps, empathy? Lucy knew the Prince’s mother had died when he was born, so he must know something about being motherless and alone. But he at least, had never known his mother. Never known how painful it was to hear laughter every day, and have it suddenly cut off. Never known how the smallest things triggered massive, titanic waves of grief. The sight of her flowers wilting on the table. The sight of one of her beautiful dresses half-finished, still with the needle threaded because her mother was in too much of a holiday rush to remember to put it away. Arthur had never known all of that.
Afraid she’d sound too bitter if she replied to him, Lucy merely smiled and began to collect the things around his body that had been discarded in a hurry. Her dagger was sheathed, two halves of his sheath were put with his shirt with an embarrassed grin. Trying to keep a casual demeanour, she answered his question with the evasive excuse she’d told everyone after she had returned from the druid camp.
“I left Camelot for a while,” She told him, holding up his shirt to see if it was any of it was usable, “My brother’s body wasn’t found after the bandit attack that killed my parents, so I went looking for him. It was quite the experience.”Lucy was still holding out for his answer about the herb. If he decided to go ahead and tell Gaius about it, the Prince would have effectively signed her death warrant. The girl knew that Gaius wouldn’t hesitate in reporting her to the tyrant King. After all, he’d betrayed so many of their kind already, why would one tiny nineteen-year-old make any difference.
"You have my word that no one will hear of it from me."Lucy let out an inaudible sigh of relief. Fate smiled on her today. She would live, for now, hopefully with no awkward questions asked. But then again, if the Prince intended to announce her existence to the city of Camelot by saying that she had saved him, which was a definite risk…
Oh dear."But I must ask, are you willing to consort with the towns physician, Gaius, so that he could perhaps use this herb as well, for its benefits are immense."Damn. He was persistant, but at least, she supposed, he was working for the good of his people. She was only going to sound selfish if she refused, which would not put her in a good light and might even result in her being forced to tell Gaius all about the ‘Princuss abooba’.“I’ll think about it,” She answered evasively, “But in the meantime, sire, I believe your shirt is out of action.”[/blockquote] Tagged: ArthurWord Count: 669 Notes: I would just like to announce that I love this thread 
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Jun 18, 2011 4:29:42 GMT -5
Hmm...
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Jun 16, 2011 13:04:07 GMT -5
Congratulations to all the winners!
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Post by Lucy Halacre on May 7, 2011 11:44:27 GMT -5
Lucy wasn't one for anonymous notes, so when one appeared late one Tuesday evening, she should have just thrown it in the fire. But unfortunately, it had, quite literally, appeared out of nowhere. It fluttered down from where it had materialised from thin air, landing neatly in her lap. And she could hardly be blamed for unfolding the thing, just to see what it said. Someone with magic had obviously sent it; a druid might have sent it. She had to open it, it might have been of extreme importance.
So she had read it, and was now sincerely regretting even picking the damn thing up. After all, she hadn't bargained on being flanked by two heavily-armed guards on her left and right; silent, scarred men who looked like they would happily kill her without a thought.
The note had told her that the writer knew where her lost brother, Mirao, was, and that if she wanted to see him, she'd come to a famous oak tree in the Forest of Ascetir. She just couldn't blow off this note. It could be a lie, but what would anyone want with her? It wasn't like she had anything of value.
She had only just arrived when a pair of hands had gripped her her hard around the waist and lifted her onto a horse. The sound of a hand slapping flesh sounded and the horse started forward with a loud whinny. Lucy was panicking frantically. But the sight of those guards had shut her up tighter than a clam immediately. She wouldn't show weakness.
They had been riding for a long time now, her horse seemingly knowing exactly where it was going. Lucy was getting tired, as it was, after all, the middle of the night. Then, all of a sudden, both of the guards threw up a palm.
A gate loomed out of the fog, manned by two more men of the same sort of physique, demeanour and uniform.
"Girl to see the Lady." It was the first sound she had heard from anyone all journey and Lucy could honestly say the low grunt gave nothing more away.
Who was the Lady? Some sort of local noble? A foreign dignitary? Lucy hadn't a clue.
The second pair of guards swung open the guard for them to pass through and they did so, still holding their palms above their heads. The sun dawned above as a castle revealed itself. It was grey, battered but at the same time utterly terrifying. Lucy suddenly became a great deal more frightened. Even if they were holding Mirao in here, Lucy suddenly found she didn’t want to know. This was a great deal for a girl who didn’t even know her brother to go through. She almost whimpered, but held it in with iron steel.
Lucy, feeling half-asleep, yet wide awake on adrenalin, could barely keep track of the twisty passages and stairways. Where on earth were they taking her. Out into fresh air again, that was something.
They entered some beautiful gardens, bright with flowers of all different colours, and Lucy smiled despite herself. Nature, she could definitely appreciate. They rounded another corner and Lucy caught glimpse of a woman standing at the end of the row.
”Milady!” The guard called down to her, at the leather pumps, the cotton dress, the long, braided ebony hair…
The Lady Morgana turned to face them.
Tagged: Morgana
Word Count: 569
Notes: Yeah, this kind of ran away from me  |
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Post by Lucy Halacre on May 7, 2011 8:47:21 GMT -5
Lucy's first impression of the man in front of her was that he wasn't a threat, which was a curious feeling because the man had to be six foot at least. It took her a second or two to figure out why she suddenly felt so confidant, but it came to her when she took a closer look at his face, illuminated by the candle light.
It was a boyish face; soft though stained by dirt. His eyes were pale, and there was fear within them. Her eyes quickly flicked up and down his stature, determining that he was thin; one of the beanpole types. She relaxed slightly, but didn't put the light out. He'd have realized she was magical by now, and she didn't exactly wish to be left in the dark with this stranger.
Her theories about him were only confirmed when he excitedly yelped about her flame. This boy, was no threat at all. On the contrary, he was only going to attract bandits and hungry predators if he kept speaking as loud as this. What was a soft, oblivious boy doing in this wood at this hour?"I'm not going to hurt you!" She stepped up to him, pressing a non-burning finger on his lips so he could not speak, "But you'll get us killed if you keep on speaking at that volume."Her eyes flickered round his face while she thought. She just wanted to get to the druid camp, but she couldn't risk just sending him on his way. He might get killed, he might tell someone about her...there were all manner of things that could happen. No, she had to talk to him. Convince him to keep his mouth shut. And she wasn't going to do it in the middle of these woods."What is your name," She whispered softly, trying to remember if there was anywhere she could talk to him privately in the vicinity.Tagged: Keagan
Word Count: 323
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Apr 30, 2011 4:00:12 GMT -5
Ohh! Fun! 108 ate 107.  |
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Apr 25, 2011 16:16:57 GMT -5
Hmm...
it's the: The Castle of Fyrien!
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Apr 25, 2011 12:51:26 GMT -5
Lucy deeply hoped that the Prince’s semi-conscious state was enough to keep his memory from functioning properly, at least until she got him back to Camelot. And speaking of moving him, she had to check for herself that the arrow wound had fully healed and all he was feeling were the after-effects of the spell. “Sire?” She asked hesitantly, withdrawing into herself more now that he was conscious and the initial frenzy of emergency healing had passed, “I am going to have to check your injury to make sure the…err…’Princuss abooba’ did it’s work properly. Would you mind just trying to relax while I take off your bandage?”Her hands crept across his chest to the injury while she waited for an answer. For the first time, she noticed he had quite an attractive chest, obviously chiselled, but then also scarred from his duty as the Knight Commander.
But he kept fidgeting! As he asked her about the scarring he wouldn’t be receiving, he shifted upwards. Lucy gritted her teeth and forced herself not to say anything. He was the Prince and she didn’t want to nag him too much, and besides, the new angle would help her with her final examination. But, by the looks of it, he was almost back to normal already. He had no idea how lucky he was to have an immune system that could bounce him back from an injury like that. If it had been his father that had been hit, it would have taken him weeks, maybe months to recover, if indeed he recovered at all! Lucy would probably have been very tempted to leave him and let nature take its course if it was Uther she had stumbled upon and not Arthur.“No,” She answered his question absently, examining a particularly nasty scar on his torso. It looked like a bite mark, an old one, but something quite unlike anything she’d ever seen before. She was drawn out of her observations as the Prince asked a question that quickly drew her to panic."Where did you find such a herb?"She couldn’t tell him a specific place, because then when his physician, that traitor Gaius, went out looking for it, he would find nothing and most likely raise the alarm. She couldn’t simply make up a place, either, for it would be all too easy for them to order her to take them to it, and she would most likely by executed on the spot when they inevitably found out she had lied. It wouldn’t be too hard for them to put two and two together and realize she had cured him magically. No, it seemed her only option was to plead to the Prince in some way...“My mother found it, years ago, in a glade and she thought it would look pretty on the table. She was a seamstress, you see, and didn’t know much about herbs. But she often went there over the years, right up until she was…killed. By bandits,” Lucy swallowed loudly, after all these years, even considering her age at the time, she didn’t like to dwell on her mother’s untimely death, “I went there every year on her birthday until…well. But it was only recently I started going back there,” Lucy hesitated. Up until this point it had all been true, such a glade did exist and her mother had truly loved to just lay there amongst the flowers.
Now, she must begin to ingrain the lie. She almost halted her tale, feeling truly awful for sullying one of the only things she could truly remember about her mother. Then she remembered this lie was to save her own life, and her mother would have wanted that more than anything, “It was then that I realized the true value of this herb and began to keep a small stock of it in cases of dire need. But you see, the growth of it is very small, so I only gather a little at a time, for dire emergencies only. If anyone knew of it besides me, I fear that this miraculous herb would be overused and be eliminated forever. You must promise to not tell of this glade, sire, and protect me from questioning.”Lucy knew she was asking a lot of him, but surely he would understand, even if it was a concocted story. Besides, all she wanted was to live in peace. That wasn’t too much to ask, was it?
Tagged: Arthur
Word Count: 748
Notes: Wow. I wasn't expecting so much to come gushing out! Sorry about that!
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Jun 18, 2013 2:46:55 GMT -5
Tag me @ally
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Apr 25, 2011 11:33:07 GMT -5
Wow! I am so happy to be chosen for quote of the month; it was possibly the strangest thing I've ever come up with! Thanks guys for the congratulations, I would just like to thank Athur for giving me the inspiration for both the quote and the name of the plant!
Congratulations to Morgana, Gwaine and Guinevère. You're all great! And the thread is here, Gwaine!
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Jun 18, 2013 2:46:55 GMT -5
Tag me @ally
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Apr 14, 2011 14:14:49 GMT -5
Perfect! Your go!
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Jun 18, 2013 2:46:55 GMT -5
Tag me @ally
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Apr 14, 2011 12:11:27 GMT -5
Here we go:PiccyLove this!
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Jun 18, 2013 2:46:55 GMT -5
Tag me @ally
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Post by Lucy Halacre on Apr 1, 2011 12:27:07 GMT -5
The Witch's Quickening? I'm not 100% sure...
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