033. guinevere, ii

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chapter thirty-three!033

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chapter thirty-three!
033. guinevere, part two

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    EVEN IN THE months where the leaves fell from the trees in brownish colours, trampling underfoot the likes of travellers and animals▬even when some days were feeling the breath of the upcoming winter, leaving the average person shivering in their woollen blankets; even when spring had left long ago, Guinevere loved the autumn months. While others loved their sunrises or some cherished the new breath of spring, the daughter of the Lower Town blacksmith had the fallen leaves settled in her heart. She found something beautiful about the trees shedding their leaves to then regrow after winter. It felt more of a fresh start than spring. 

    Down in the Lower Town, in the shadow of the mighty citadel walls of Camelot, Guinevere loved her autumn months in the humble abode of the slums. Here, everyone worked for what they needed and blessed what they earned. It was a simple life; food on the table, a roof over their heads and a blanket to keep themselves warm in the winter was all they ever wanted. All she ever wanted. 

    She loved autumn, and she loved her home. She loved the mud-brick foundations and the creaking wooden beams. She loved their modest front door. And while her humble home was not as large as it used to be, Guinevere was grateful for those she did still have in her life. She loved her father more than she could say, and he loved and cherished her. Life was even simpler▬life was humble and filled with content for the blacksmith and his darling daughter. 

   With the fellow maidservant of the Lady Morgana le Fay, Odette, spending the early afternoon with their mistress, Guinevere was able to spend some time at home. She was able to sew, and she was able to put her feet up to thread her needle. And even though she worked both home and within the castle, even beating the dust out of her blanket was a welcoming breath. 

   Away from the castle, Guinevere felt as if she finally had time to think. Sometimes, the corridors were constricting as much as they were cold and empty▬for no matter how far she tried to run away, no matter where she tried to hide, she always seemed to run right into him. 

    Ronyn Vecentia. 

    The very person she wished her wooden stick was beating rather than the blanket. She wished she could beat all of her feelings out into the air▬hoping they'd be lost forever. Guinevere was better than this, she knew. She was smarter than to let herself find endearment in someone so ridiculous and narrow-minded▬someone who seemed so inconsiderate until he was far from it. 

    Smack! Dust billowed up above her. 

    Someone who made stupid jokes and teased her and made her so frustrated and angry to the point she couldn't think of anybody else▬

    Smack!

    A young man with pretty eyes, a charming smile▬so wonderfully handsome and▬

the swan princess,    arthur pendragonWhere stories live. Discover now