~Gwenivere~

It had been many days since I last saw my King. The depths of Tanglewood separated me from Camelot and I still had many struggles ahead before I would go home. Now, as the sun's rim began to touch the peaks on the outskirts of the dark forest, night was certain to befall on me and another day would go by without a trace of rescue from Arthur or Lancealot. I began to shiver with chills as I walked through the tower cell. The night had a chill of it’s own as I stepped over the broken chains that I was bound to earlier. The kindness of the guard who gave me the keys to my bounds would not be forgotten. I would have to tell the King of his benevolence if I was ever to get out of this tower.

I was exhausted, and had a heavy inclination for sleep, when I heard the sound of hooves thundering through the Labyrinth below the Tower. Aroused immediately, I Marked with speed and ran to the window. From the tall tower I could barely make out the figures on the horses, but the color of the glimmering shields appeared indistinctly with a faintly luminous familiar hue. The heraldic markings were candy to my eyes, Red and white. I gasped. Lancealot!

He was close, half way through the Labyrinth. From the highest window of Tanglewood I detected Three divided parties.
The cold steel bars across the window kept me from leaning too far forward where I could be seen. Instead, I inhaled deeply, lost control of any appearance of exhaulted rank and shouted from the depths of my gut. “My good knight, Sir Lancelot, come hither. Alight from your horse and rescue your queen!”

His horse raised up, and then the wedge of men cut a clear path through the Labyrinth. All three parties heard my cry for help. Finally it seemed someone knew I was here, and a fortune of favoring chance might rescue me on this day. I watched as they cut through fast and furious coming through the maze and up to the front gate of the castle. Many of Valerin’s men stood guard, armed and ready to take on the small party that reached the gate first. I wanted to jump from the heights that separated me from them, but all I could do was watch. It was a suicide action, as Lancealot rode up to the first three guards, his sword raised high above his head and ready for fight. I had no idea that desperate men can make such a furious weapon. He killed the first two with blows to the head, Bors and Percival following him close behind. More of Valerin’s men were called out, the odds now seemed they were against them.

Vicious with intent, Sebile and her small party made it through the maze just in the final critical moment. She flung furiously in his defense, Sir Mordred followed with the final blow. Lancealot’s ten were now better then most of the rest and had their objective firmly set. The blades of several swords pierced my ears as I apprehensively watched Camelot’s men from the tower.