Chapter 5 — A New Reality

Guinevere woke up with fright. Her body shook like she was struck by a bolt of lightning and she was jolted awake. As her consciousness stabilized, she began to absorb information from her surroundings. The first thing she noticed was that she was not in the snow, leaning on a cold rock.

No, she was in a bed. She was lying in a soft large bed filled with silk-covered pillows and cotton sheets.

Heart pounding, she pushed herself off the bed slowly and into a sitting position. Her hair trickled down her shoulders and face, blocking her view. Guinevere raised her hand to swipe the bangs off her face and before pausing and staring at her hand.

Her palm—in fact, her entire forearm—was small, like a child’s. She slowly wiggled her fingers. Why did her body look like this? This was a child’s body.

She twisted her hand left and right, staring at the pale skin, devoid of the scars she had picked up in battle.

What is happening? What happened to me?

Shooting out of the bed, Guinevere ran to the full-length mirror in the room. The girl in the mirror stared back at her, eyes wide and mouth agape. Her skin was the colour of fresh barley, smooth and silky. Her auburn hair was lighter and curlier, trickling down her back, over her white wispy nightgown. She was in a child’s body.

But not any child’s body. She was in her body from several years ago.

It was then that Guinevere began to absorb where she really was. She spun around, glancing at the bed, the large glass panels that opened to a view of the courtyard below. She was back in her room in the barony of Carmelide.

It felt like she was in a dream. Because what she could see could only be described as unreal. What was she doing here? How was she here? Was this a dream?

She pinched herself to see if the pain would wake her up but no, nothing changed. While assaulting herself, the door opened and Guinevere turned sharply to see two maids stepping in. They halted when they saw her in front of the mirror, not expecting her to be awake.

“Lady, good m…” The maids began to curtsy but Guinevere stopped them.

“Tell me,” she said urgently, trying to not wince at her shrill voice, “what year is it?”

The maids shared a look of confusion before giving her an answer. Guinevere saw their mouths move, hear the words but could not comprehend what she was hearing. If what the maids said was true, then she was no longer a woman but a ten-year-old girl. H-had she gone back in time? How?

Guinevere grabbed her head and tried to recall. The magician. Merlin. She had drunk out of the Holy Grail and returned here. Did she really return to the past or was it a dream?

“W-what is the most recent event to occur?” As she asked, she also noticed that the rasp in her voice that the disease caused had also disappeared. Her mature voice had been replaced with the soft chime of a child’s.

The maids’ brows wrinkled again. They told her of the recent wars, treaties and changes that the kingdom had gone through. With every word that escaped their mouths, Guinevere sank into a deeper crisis. She had truly returned. This was not a strange dream.

She was back.

The realization was shocking. Guinevere’s body quivered as she contemplated her new reality. She was back. She could change the fate of Lancelot and the men who had died for her sake. She could take revenge on the Uther and his offspring for their sins against her.

She was back.

Covering her mouth, Guinevere sank slowly to the ground on the verge of hyperventilation. Alarmed, the maids rushed to her side. “Lady, is there something wrong with your body? Should we call the healer?”

Guinevere felt their hands pulled her up and she shook her head. She needed to get it together. Taking a steadying breath, she shook off her concern and said, “Prepare a bath for me. I have to begin the day.”

The maids nodded and after ensuring she could stand on her feet, set to the task. As they led her to the bathroom and washed her, she asked more questions on the state of the kingdom. Everything from the official announcements coming from Uther’s court to the rumours circulating within the common folk.

It was imperative she figured out why the magician sent her back to this time. Why did he not send her back to the time shortly before she discovered the illegal mine or even before the imperial order arrived from the king?

Why so far back and why now?

“And the fourth concubine coughed up blood at the Battle of Swords. She had to be escorted out of the grounds.”

Guinevere turned her head sharply to the maid who was scrubbing her left arm. “What did you say now?”

“Th-the fourth concubine,” the maid stuttered under the force of Guinevere’s stare. “The fourth concubine seemed to be sick at the last sword tournament. I was just thinking it was a pity that her son, His Highness, had to see her like that.”

“Her son,” Guinevere gasped. “Arthur.”

The maid on her left and the one at the foot of the tub both flinched. Guinevere looked at them curiously before realizing what she just did. She called a member of the royal family by name. It was the magician’s fault. Well, she would worry about propriety later.

Arthur, the king that would bring prosperity to Camelot. Guinevere was certain the reason she was sent back here was related to him.

It is the story of Arthur Pendragon but it is also the story of your life.

That was what the magician had told her. The story of Arthur Pendragon was also her story. But her story was one of revenge. That was why she was brought here. She had made it clear to the magician what she wanted. He had brought her here knowing that.

She rose from the bathtub, still immersed in thought while the maids went to dressing her and preparing her for breakfast.

Did Arthur Pendragon also want Uther dead? Would that somehow prevent the calamity the magician talked about? If indeed, that was the case, then Guinevere had an ally in the young prince. She was going to use the prince to destroy the king and his family.

Speaking of family…

Guinevere turned her attention to the maids tying the lace and ribbons around her and felt a stuffy feeling rise up in her chest. Nostalgia burned in her throat, making it difficult to breathe.

She was truly back. That meant her family was also back to the way it was before it all went south. Was there a way to rectify some of the mistakes she made and pay back the ills that were carried out against her?

“All done, young lady,” the maid said, standing back to assess her work. “Are you ready to head to the dining hall?”

“Yes, I am.” Guinevere exhaled.

She left the room and walked down the hallway to the dining hall. As she strolled down the carpeted hallway and glanced at the paintings that adorned the walls, she briefly pondered to herself what her life would look like if she had remained in this estate instead of running obstinately to the knights training academy.

“No!”

Guinevere paused outside the doors to the dining hall and raised a brow at the indignant voice coming from the other side.

“That’s the last I will hear of this matter. You are a noble. An aristocrat. Why do you choose to soil your lineage in this manner?” She could hear the rattling of cutlery as the table was slammed, she presumed, with her father’s palm.

“Ahh.” The sound escaped her lips as she realized what the argument was about. Bedivere and his career choice. The more she reasoned on the issue, the more she realized that today was truly one of the most important turning points in her life.

A week ago, her father had taken the both of them to visit a blacksmith’s stall. She had been enthralled with the weapon and the battles she could fight with it.

Her brother, however, had fallen in love with the process of making steel. For the past three days, he would sneak out of the mansion to visit the blacksmiths, watching in awe as they made weapons. Guinevere guessed he was tired of sneaking and decided to make a request to their father regarding the matter.

But the Baron of Carmelide was not the kind of person that would allow his son to learn blacksmithing.

“My lady, are you not going in?” the maid beside Guinevere said.

"Yes, I will," Guinevere replied and the maid turned the knob, stepping aside to allow her to enter.

The sight that met Guinevere walked up to the long table and took her seat beside her father was that of her father’s fuming visage and her brother’s bowed head. The picture overlapped with another one from twenty-three years ago.

It was an identical image. There was no difference in the sight before her eyes and the one in her memory. The only difference was her. She was no longer a naïve ten-year-old that dreamed of being the king's knight and making her father proud of her.

And if she could remember properly, the argument the baron had with her older brother was not the only argument this morning. Her father had also shouted at her when she brought up the idea of becoming a knight.

"What is wrong with these useless children? Do you delight in making me angry?" he had said. The exasperated sigh that followed was still clear in her mind.

Yes, to her father, they were useless children if they could not do anything to advance the family’s social and political status. The baron already felt like the barony’s reputation was dragged through the mud when he had to start a blacksmithing business to keep the family afloat.

He did not want anything that would further worsen their plight. That mentality was what drove him to ignore all her cries for help. For years after she escaped from the dungeon, she tried to contact her father to seek his assistance. But all her cries for help went unheard.

A father who saw his social standing as more important than his children. That was the kind of man Leodegrance Carmelide was. She would repay in kind with time but that was not her main purpose. All she wanted now was revenge against the king. She wanted to kill Uther Pendragon.

“Good morning, Father. Please take it easy and try to refrain from shouting. It may affect your health,” Guinevere said, her voice light and airy, belying none of her dislike for the man.

“Thank you, my dear daughter. Your brother seems to have a stupid idea stuck in his head.”

Guinevere looked at her brother whose head was still bowed. “Worry not, father. I am certain it is just a wild dream. He will come around soon. A son of a baron cannot be a blacksmith. He knows that.”

Bedivere flinched and lowered his head even further. Guinevere could see the tops of his cheeks were flushed red.

“Right? I do not know why you were not the son and Bedivere the daughter. At least you understand the part you have to play.” Leodegrance picked up a fork from the table. “Speaking of which, how are your embroidery lessons coming along?”

Embroidery? Oh, that’s right. Guinevere truly did not have to wonder what her life would be like. She had seen it. All the noblewomen had the same life. Embroidery, tea lessons and marriage to the highest bidder. Little wonder her ten-year-old self wanted to escape this prison of a life.

“They are coming along very well, father. I am learning a lot.”

The rest of breakfast passed with her father saying worthless things. As she heard the words that spilled out of his foul mouth, she wondered how she ever loved this man and desired to prove herself to him.

Eventually, Guinevere was able to drown him out and focus on the biggest challenge facing her. If she wanted to use Arthur Pendragon to destroy the royal family, she had to influence him, train him and control him. And to do that, she had to be in a position that allowed her to have regular, intimate contact with him.

How would she do that? She was not noble enough to be considered as a marriage mate of a prince, even if it was the fifth. Guinevere moved the food around her plate, pondering the dilemma. It was not until her father touched her shoulder that she was shaken out of her thoughts.

“What is wrong with you? I have been calling your name. Pay attention when I speak to you.”

Guinevere smiled. “I’m sorry, Father. What did you say?”

“I said, your tutor will soon be here. Make sure you finish up your breakfast in time so as not to keep her waiting. As you know she is an elite governess and it will not show good manners…”

Leodegrance kept rambling on but Guinevere had once again turned her attention away from him. For once, the man had said something useful.

Tutor. Yes, a tutor. Her family could not be married into the royal family but she could certainly train the prince, could she not? The only issue was her age but Guinevere could already see a way of removing that obstacle.

If she became Arthur’s tutor, then she could influence him, train him and control him. The one-on-one study sessions they would regularly have will afford her the opportunity to mould the young boy into a bloodthirsty tyrant that will destroy his own family.

Guinevere wiped her mouth and rose from the table. She had a revenge to plan.