The Soldier, the Witch, and the Fool

Prologue

Let me tell you a story.

It began. Gwen stared her young son as he kneeled before her, his shocking blue eyes looking up at her expectedly. He had just turned nine and already he could sit a horse and shoot a bow at its mark. Forever his father's son, his impatience clearly visible in a cocked brow. When she saw that, hints of Arthur, her heart ached. Arthur, who died not knowing he had a fine strong son. Arthur went out to save the world and never returned.

"Are you hurt mother?" Gian asked, his small hand reached up to touch her cheek. He had her coloring, a buttery caramel brown, darkened even more by the summer sun and days riding and playing outdoors.

Gwen stared down to see she had been rubbing the place over her heart. She felt foolish, even after all these years, how a dull, lingering reminder remained. The greatest reminder of all stared up at her. She smiled and the pain eased.

"Fine dear, just fine," she said, ruffling his curly dark brown hair. " Now let me tell you a story of the soldier, the witch and the fool."

Chapter 1

Gwen's head ached. The dream had been vivid. Every scent, taste and sight overwhelmed her. She awoke each morning, her head throbbing, her breathing labored and her body drained. It seemed to get worse and if it didn't stop, she knew she might lose her mind. Her body moist with sweat, her muscle ached from unknown excertion she stripped off the damp bedding and struggled to sit up. Her head swayed a bit. She forced herself to focus, taking in a small studio apartment, her meager belongings. She ran her fingers through her tangled hair, trying to get the mass of wavy thick hair under some control. It had come loose during the night. She searched between the crumpled sheets for the rubber band. When she couldn't find it, she abandoned any control and hoped the shower would help with her aching body and her wayward hair. She stood and stretched and tried to get some semblance of life.

She stood in her small apartment, with its view of the Manhattan skyline, an enticing sliver between two tall buildings and yawned. Brooklyn had provided an opportunity for her to live affordably and still stay close to Manhattan and her job. Only a subway ride away, across the East River to 53rd Street to the top floors of the Penn Building. She'd start her new job today, administrative assistant, or glorified gofer. She didn't care, it provided opportunities, to work for the powerful Penn family. If they asked her to do their laundry she'd do it with a smile on her face and a paycheck in her pocket. She abandoned all thought of servitude when she saw the time.

"Wake up Guinevere." She rubbed the sides of her face and headed for the bathroom. An hour later she stepped out of the 59th Street Subway stations with thousand other Manhattan commuters. Dressed in her best, she headed for Penn Towers, the New York Headquarters of Penn International. She'd beat out several applicants for the position and understood the importance of the opportunity presented before her. By the time she got to the polish chrome bank of elevators the dream of the night before had become a faded memory. She felt more like herself.

When the elevator doors open she stepped inside with others pressing to fill the small compartment. Thankfully, she stood at the front and tried desperately not to let her claustrophobia get the better of her. She took a small deep breath, remembered what Doctor Menzies told her about how to relieve the anxiety of being shut into small spaces. She took another deep breath and closed her eyes as the door began to close. Before they did, a hand shoved in between the closing doors. She looked up to see the smiling face of a young man, dark hair, striking blue eyes and a goofy smile.

"Sorry, sorry…." the man said, bumping her slightly. The English accent surprised her, and she smiled. He took this as an invitation to smile back. She made more space for him in the crowded elevator.

"Thanks and they say New Yorkers aren't friendly," he chirped.

"Mister you step on my ingrown one more time and you'll see how friendly I can be," a voice grumbled from behind. The young man apologized again before returning his attention to her.

"My first day," he whispered conspiratorially.

She nearly giggled admitting it was her first as well. "Let me guess, Penn International?"

"How'd you know?" His eyes widen with wonder.

"The accent you idiot." Someone said from the back of the elevator as it whizzed pass each floor.

So much for the New York hospitality, Gwen mused.

The stranger had been right. Penn International was a London based company, with markets all over the world. Gwen found out many of the employees were transplanted Brits. If you heard a non American accent, chances were they worked for Penn International. She loved that about the company. A bit of an Angophile, she felt comfortable working with the international staff.

"Guess so," the young man mused. "I'm Merlyn, Ambrose Merlyn."

Gwen almost laughed out loud. Someone had a worse name than she did. God only knew what their mothers were thinking. She didn't laugh, but raised a brow.

"Everyone just calls me Merlyn," he confessed as they almost reach the top floors.

"Gwen," she said simply, not admitting her full name. "Gwen Grainer."

The elevator was nearly empty by the time they opened up on the top floors. Only a few others remained as she and Merlyn stepped out into the expansive suites of offices that made up Penn International.

"You work for Penn as well?" he'd asked as they walked the long marble corridor.

"Personal assistant to Ms. Morgan and you?"

They stopped before the reached the large reception area. "Same here, but not for Ms. Morgan but for…."

They were interrupted by yelling. A man's voice clear and quite English rose through the office chatter, that went deadly silent.

"If I wanted a personal assistant, I would have asked for one Father, what am I twelve," the man said. The voice was coming from the executive offices that took up much of the floor.

"If I needed an idiot to follow me around and wipe my nose, I would have stayed in London."

Gwen took note the effect of the cringe worthy tirade coming from behind the closed door, as people in the office tried to be inconspicuous.

"That would be the reason, I'm here," a dejected Merlyn said. This confused Gwen.

"Arthur Penn, I'm the said wiper of noses," he said gallantly, giving her a deprecating smile.

Gwen wanted to laugh, but a wave of overwhelming déjà vu hit her. With the mention of Arthur's name, she was suddenly taken aback, suck into the all consuming nightmare of hours before. The sights, sounds and the overwhelming grief.

Let me tell you a story

She swayed as the memories hit her and then felt the sure, strong hands on her forearm.

"Are you alright?" Merlyn asked. His look of concern genuine.

"Suddenly…" She struggled to say as her mouth seemed too dry to form the words. "I… I."

Blackness.

She fell into the abyss without struggle, letting it take her away. Something pulled at her, trying to bring her back, but she resisted. She wanted to stay and float away. She felt herself crumble.

"Gwen!"

Someone called to her from a distance.

"Give her air," another said as she sensed people around her.

"What in the hell…"

It was the voice that pulled her back. That clear irritated voice of a man who lingered in her dreams and nightmare. She opened her eyes to him and nearly fainted again.

The Soldier.