Albion's Days They Leave Us Wanting

Bend and Break

All eyes moved to the breathless, loud page standing in the tent’s opening, a boy of maybe ten and dressed one neck ruff away from ridiculous. “His majesty-”

The noble next to her interrupted the child with a hand before speaking himself “Wants us in the throne room. Were in the middle of something, what is it?” So this is Arthur? Strange.

“Don’t know your royal highness” the child took in several stuttered breathes before continuing “Court is in session and waiting”

She turned to look at him only to find him doing the same. His eyes narrowed ever so slightly as his brow followed and lips pressed into a thin line. What was she to do with that? It’d not like she trusted him or wanted her here either…but still it put her one edge, the contempt in those green eyes made her feel so small and worthless. She looked back to the knight and in doing so caught the mystic’s eye. “We’ve got him, go” He was right she didn’t know him even if he was now her patient. They had him, they could peel the dark sand-colored waving curled hair sweat stuck to his head, break the fever he was developing, dress the wound, and check for broken ribs. With a deep sigh, she pat the unconscious knight’s hand, and turned on her heel, and followed the page out under the evening sky.

They were a good few paces before Arthur caught up with them. He didn’t look at her but walked only a foot away from her and just in her view, putting her on edge yet again. He stayed right there in her peripheral. The. Entire. Way. He walked with grace, she’ll give him that but the guarded way he held himself and the tight way he walked made her feel uneasy and like he was ready for anything at any moment. She was a lady, she knew how to hold herself, she knew how to not look like she was terrified of him. Not where he could see her anyways.

The doors to the throne room were the very definition of ostentatious. Hand-carved mural of Pendragon’s slaying a greater dragon, dark fae wood, well treated and finished, gold-finished, thicker than wall stone and absolutely hideous, for a man of one god he fancied himself a Norseman’s king. If she had to choose between here and Northmen in a longhouse she’d be in furs with a bottle of mead. The wall around it was lined with guards and mystics dressed in robes and armors that hummed with magic and perfectly cared for black steel. They were only for the throne room and king, it showed in every aspect of them, from how their eyes staid forward but also followed her, to their prone posture ready to strike given the slightest provocation.

The two guards directly in front of the doors gave a curt full bow to Arthur before opening the doors.

A long strip of a rich red carpet, embroidered with gold finishing and roses carefully dyed into it, laid over black stones with a mirror fine finish that seemed to capture the stars and reflected fire in its shine. A few dozen nobles, knights, and servants were on either side kept against the walls by one line of guards facing them in while standing between the marble pillars and another with their backs to them facing the rest of the hall. The throne consisted of three ornate chairs a step above the floor and in between two large golden lions each with one paw of the severed head of a dragon.

Uther sat in the middle on the larger of the three dressed in finery with nothing but impatience and distance in his form.

The page stopped halfway in and they behind him “His Royal Highness, The Crowned Prince Arthur Pendragon of Britania and Lady Marylyn Carmar, The Marchioness of Carmarthenshire, Wales” A murmur filled the room as the onlookers talked amongst themselves. She took a little comfort in knowing that Arthur was in just as bad of shape as her. I may be in a ripped bloody dress but he's covered in dirt, so who's really doing better? Looking over the careless whispering masses she yet again was met with those of the mystic. What is he doing here? They held each other’s gaze for several seconds before she felt a tight vibration in the back of her neck before looking back to Uther.

Uther seemed uninterested in her rather glaring holes into his son like the time it took them to get here was a purposefully slight against him. Without speaking a word he motioned for Arthur to join him in the lesser of the three seats before softening his expression and looking at her. “Bring him forward”

One of the guards walked up to where she still stood with the last person she wanted to see at the moment. Dilwyn was still preening as he stepped up to stand next to her, hands intertwined and pressed tightly against his midsection, feet firmly planted and a foot apart. It was a heavy contrast to her polite but loose stance; limp arms held in front by one hand over the other, a neutral expression and feet together.

“Kneel” He might as well have said heel, like a well-trained b***h he was on his knees, head bowed. For the past fifteen years of her life, he had been someone she had respected and thought rather highly of, and yet here he was, no honor, for himself, their country, or king, willing to give himself immediately without question or thought. Pathetic. “Kneel” Uther repeated through gritted teeth, anger starting to show.

Dilwyn harshly whispered just loud enough only for her to hear. “Do it”

“I appreciate all you have done for us in these trying times-” She started.

Uther leaned forward before cutting her off “And yet you will do show me this basic respect”

“I gave my word that I shall take no other king until succession or death. My word is my vow, if I am to bend on this then my word means nothing. I will not submit to another in doing you this”

His brown narrowed at her before he continued “Why did you come if you intended to spit in the face of my generosity?”

Growing irritated herself now “It was made very clear that I had little opinion in the matter”

“Then leave”

“Gladly” She knew it was a bluff on his part but the slight chance he wasn’t alone was worth it. After a curt courtesy, she bid them goodbye and started to leave. Unsurprisingly the guards in front of the doors, instead of letting her out they primed their spears at her before looking to Uther for orders. She didn’t bother looking back, frustrated and insulted enough as it was “A Welshmen is only as good as their word, if you have no intent to follow through on your it’s best you not say them”

“Who is assigned as her chambermaid?” He shouted the question to the room at large and was responded to quickly by a woman on the left side of the hall. “See Lady Carmar to her chambers”

The woman hurried over as the door guards lowered their weapons and moved to open the door. “This way my lady,” she said motioning to follow. Not given any real options she complied.

They walked in relative silence as twilight started to shine through the windows they passed. They round about the castle and up several floors until coming upon a room in a forgotten part of the castle. The other woman opened the door for them after some frustration with the key. Once open she walked in and lit the oil lamp on the table next to. Mary followed once the room was bathed in the flickering flame. It was cozy but lifeless, even with the two of them in it. The bed was rather large and sat parallel to the window both of which were in the far left corner of not only the room but the castle. The stone  mantel in the right wall was adorned in flowers and candles with the banner of Pendragon hanging from the wall. That needs to changes if they intend to keep me here. Past the fireplace was a wood and cloth folding screen with a tub just pocking out from behind it.

Mary slowly walked to the window by the bed looking out on the castle gardens. Other ladies were walking about with their families- their parents. It hurt.

“Is there anything I can do for you before dinner my lady?”

Still very much aware of the blood dried in her slippers and on her skin “A bath and change of clothes” she muttered, not turning from the window.

“Yes my lady”

The other woman started drawing her a bath while she still stared absentmindedly out the window.