las challenge 9 - voting
LAS Challenge Nine Voting
VOTING RULES:
Please READ carefully before voting, thank you.
- Participants are encouraged to vote, however you may NOT vote for your own submission or ask others to vote for yours.
- Please read each entry to vote.
- Vote for your three favourite pieces, and please be sure to include feedback for each one. Please bear in mind the following point allocation while voting:
- a first place vote gets 3 pts;
- a second place vote gets 2 pts;
- a third place vote gets 1 pt.
- That said, with a view to being able to give each participant some feedback, reviews of individual stories are very much encouraged. If you liked the story, or noticed room for improvement, please let the author know!
- Use the form in the textbox below to vote. In "general comments", include any feedback for the stories you didn't vote for by indicating the number, followed by your review.
- Voting should be based around quality only: Was the prompt met? Did the author follow the Challenge-Specific Guidelines? How is the spelling, grammar and punctuation? Did the piece hold your attention?
*Guidelines from thefuturequeen's LAS Competition.
VOTING FORM
First pick: #
Feedback:
Second: #
Feedback:
Third: #
Feedback:
General comments:
The Challenge-Specific Guidelines were:
- Your story can be set in the same era as Merlin is OR in Modern AU.
- Other characters from Merlin or any of the Arthurian Legends may appear as support.
The Theme: was: ...and baby makes 4
The Prompt: was: Gwen gives birth to twins.
Voting closes Wednesday, May 4, 2011 @ 11:59 PM Eastern Standard Time (World Clock)
#1. When Two Became More (PG, 1970 words)
“I’m a house.”
“You’re beautiful.”
“I’m waddling and my ankles are the size of small children.”
“The better to carry the even smaller children inside you.”
Arthur laughed as Gwen swatted at him, ducking around to catch her from behind. As annoyed as she was with him, she couldn’t resist leaning back against his chest. To take some of the pressure off her aching feet, she told herself, but really, she just enjoyed how good his arms felt around her body.
Even if it was currently bloated, nauseous, and required at least one other person to help get it from a sitting to a vertical position.
“It won’t be so bad,” Arthur said softly, his breath tickling across her ear. “Elena doesn’t care for those sort of superficial trappings.”
She snorted. “That’s not actually reassuring me about how I look, Arthur.”
“Would you rather I postpone the treaty signing until after the baby is born?”
She would, but she also knew how hard they’d worked to arrange the signing in the first place. The other rulers even refused to step inside the city until everyone had signed off, forcing Arthur’s hand to convene at a mutually agreed upon site a day’s ride away. All nobles had to attend. If Gwen didn’t show up, they would see it as a breach of Arthur’s dedication to peace, and she couldn’t allow that to happen, even if she was almost eight months pregnant.
His suggestion that she follow with Merlin and Elena in a carriage rather than on horseback was meant to make it as easy as possible for her. She loved that he was so determined to see to her needs when Camelot’s future was in such tenuous straits, but it didn’t alleviate her frustrations with a body she barely recognized anymore.
“Of course not.” She ran her fingers up and down the back of his hand, playing with the hairs curling from beneath his shirt. “But you really don’t have to ask Elena accompany me. I’m sure she’d rather ride along with the rest of her council.”
“It’s already done. Actually, she was grateful she had an excuse to be late. She dreads this as much as you do.”
Except Elena was slim and beautiful and could see her feet. Somehow, Gwen thought she still managed to come out ahead there.
“Whatever it takes,” she agreed. “You know I want this to succeed.”
“I know.” His lips grazed her temple. “I’ll make it up to you, I promise.”
He would, too. In all the time they’d been together, Arthur had honored each and every one of his vows to her. It was one certainty she could rely on, as much as she could trust the sun would rise every day.
“For now, all I want is this baby safe in my arms and you at my side.”
“Can that be in our bed?”
“With the baby?”
His kisses drifted lower, down the side of her neck. “He’ll have to sleep sometime.”
“That’s how we got into this mess in the first place.”
“This isn’t a mess.” He smoothed his hand over her belly. “This is our family.”
In spite of how uncomfortable she felt, Gwen smiled. “Then I can’t see how I can say no, now can I?”
-----
Actually, all it would have taken was opening her mouth and uttering the word, but as they jolted down the path, Gwen knew it was too late to wish she’d been just a little bit more selfish. Though Arthur had found the smoothest way possible, the wheels on the carriage seemed to find every little bump, every tiny stone. The entire carriage vibrated, and each time they encountered a particularly large obstacle, she had to ask they stop so she could relieve herself.
She had never been more mortified in her life.
She tried sleeping, leaning her head against one of the many pillows Arthur had insisted she bring, but an odd tightness around her midsection kept her from relaxing. Wrapping her arm over her belly didn’t help, nor did sitting up straighter, as if the added length to her back would take off some of the pressure. Elena kept glancing in her direction, but Merlin was the one who asked if she was all right.
“I’m-”
The baby kicked, much harder than usual, and Gwen gasped as another sensation, like something popping, followed almost right on top of it. A moment later, she felt wetness soak her seat.
Merlin rested his hand on her shoulder, his eyes dark with concern. “Do we need to stop again?”
“Yes.” She took a deep breath, wishing it would calm her suddenly frantic nerves. “My waters just broke.”
The next few minutes were a blur. She remembered Elena practically leaping from the cart to stop the driver and call for Sir Leon riding up ahead, and Merlin’s scrounging around for anything to help soak up the damp. Her maidservant was there somewhere, but she wasn’t aware of her with any certainty until Gwen was on a blanket by the side of the path, bent over nearly double as the first labor pain really hit her.
“What do we do now?” Elena asked.
“We should get her back to Camelot,” Merlin replied.
“What if she has the baby along the way?”
“And what if she has the baby right here?”
“She’s thinking this baby will come, regardless of where she is,” Gwen snapped.
“She’s right.” Her maid was pressing along her stomach. “The baby’s dropped already.”
Merlin frowned. “She looks as pregnant as she was before.”
“Gee, thank you, Merlin.” Gwen rolled her eyes. “She means the baby’s-oh!”
Another labor pain cut her off, and she gritted her teeth to try and bear it. Her maid pushed her skirts out of the way, and almost immediately, Elena and Merlin’s eyes went wide and they turned around in tandem, looking everywhere but at Gwen.
“The baby’s in position,” her maid explained. “It could be any time.”
Not what Gwen wanted to hear, though as rough as the pain was, the sooner it was over, the better.
“What do you need?” Merlin asked.
“Water. Blankets. Something to cut the cord-”
“Arthur,” Gwen said as the latest pain eased. “He wanted to be here when the baby came.”
“I’ll get him!” Elena and Merlin said at the same time, then frowned at each other when they realized what they’d done.
“You need to stay,” Merlin explained to her.
She cocked a brow. “And why’s that?”
“Because you can help. Since you’re a…” He gestured helplessly at her dress.
Even in her current state of discomfort, Gwen knew this wasn’t going to go well.
“Being a girl does not necessarily make me an expert on child birthing.”
“You have to know more than I do.”
“Oh, really? I would’ve thought spending all that time helping Gaius, the court physician, would’ve meant some of it actually rubbed off on you.”
Merlin lifted his chin. “I’m Arthur’s manservant. It’s my job to fetch him.”
“Are you faster than him?”
“Pardon?”
“On a horse. Are you a better rider than he is?”
“No, of course not.”
Elena grinned in triumph. “Well, I am. Problem solved.” She turned to Gwen, only to see that she was still in a less than flattering position, and immediately lifted her eyes to stare up into the trees. “I’ll have him back as soon as possible, Guinevere. You have my word.”
Gwen didn’t want her word. She wanted Arthur. In light of their current circumstances, however, she’d take what she could get.
-----
He was in the middle of a meeting with Percival and Gwaine when pounding hoofbeats interrupted them. Arthur only meant to glance back to see who it was, but at the sight of Elena’s skirts billowing around her legs in her haste to reach him, he stiffened and pulled away from the others.
“It’s Guinevere,” she called out as she approached. He was racing toward his own horse before she could add, “It’s time!”
He should have known. As he pushed his steed to the lengths of its limits, following Elena back to where they’d stopped, all Arthur could do was chastise himself for insisting Gwen make the trip, for believing Gaius that it was safe for her to travel, for not being a stronger man and demanding she be exempt from the treaty signing. She should never have come. Because of his short-sightedness, he could lose everything.
His heart thudded in time with his horse’s hooves, but Elena never let up. She guided him through low-hanging trees that forced him to bend over his horse’s neck, raced along a river before splashing through a shallow pass. He lost all sense of direction, his only beacon the need to get to Gwen. She’d wanted him at her side. He refused to let her down.
When Elena began to slow, he came abreast and spotted Leon’s red cape in the trees ahead. He kicked harder, coaxing a fresh burst of speed from his steed, but as he neared, a cry reached his ears.
A baby’s cry.
“Gwen!”
He leapt to the ground, running toward the sound as soon as his feet touched. He saw Merlin first, his arms curled around a bundle of blankets, but his gaze jumped immediately past him, drawn to the two women still on the ground. Gwen was sitting up, her face contorted in pain, while her maid knelt between her legs, one hand gripping Gwen’s sweaty knee, the other out of sight.
As he tried to go to her, however, Merlin turned to block his way. “Not yet,” Merlin warned.
Arthur skidded to a halt. “But I heard…” The rest trailed away when he saw what Merlin actually held. Not blankets. A baby. Their baby.
Merlin smiled at Arthur’s stunned silence. “It’s a boy.”
He couldn’t breathe. All his hopes and fears had been for naught because he couldn’t get his lungs to function properly. “I have a son?”
“Yes.” He nodded toward Gwen. “Though who knows? You might actually have two.”
The question of how faded as Gwen let out a gasped cry and slumped back onto her elbows. The maid had already bent closer, but as she pulled back, she cradled a second baby in her hands.
“A girl,” she announced, lifting a smile to Gwen.
Merlin edged forward, nodding for Arthur to follow. When they reached Gwen’s side, he stopped and held out the swaddled baby to him. “Would you like to hold your son, sire?”
Wordlessly, Arthur took the child into his arms. He felt large and clumsy, especially since the baby seemed to weigh next to nothing. His first instinct was to pass the baby back before he hurt it, but then he glanced down, and he saw a familiar curve of a cheek, the soft pout of a wide mouth.
This wasn’t his son. This was theirs. Part of the family he’d been so in love with, long before he ever saw his face.
“Arthur…”
He met Gwen’s weary smile with his own. Their daughter, now wrapped as well as her brother, lay across her breast. Carefully, he knelt down, reaching out to cover the back of Gwen’s hand where she cupped the back of their daughter’s head.
“They’re beautiful,” he said. “But I’m so sorry you had to go through this away from Camelot.”
Gwen shook her head. “I’m not. You’re here at my side, and our children are safe and strong. That’s all I ever need, Arthur.”
And part of why he loved her as much as he did. Because she saw the world in such simple terms, the greater good rather than selfish desires. The treaty could still happen. Peace could still be restored.
For Gwen, for his family, for Camelot.
_____________________________________________________________________________________________
__
#2. A Quiet Burden (PG, 1999 words)
“Thank you.”
“For?”
Arthur watches as Amhar nurses, fascinated. “Everything.”
Gwen nods sleepily. Amhar finishes and Arthur gingerly passes the baby to the waiting servant. “Get Duran,” she mumbles. “The midwife said I should try to keep them on the same schedule, otherwise they'll have me up at all hours.”
Arthur frowns at the bags underneath her eyes, the way she struggles to remain propped up against the pillows. Her labor had lasted an excruciating thirty hours - he can still remember the way she screamed through the door. “Or we can have the wet nurse take care of him if he's hungry,” he says - which he immediately regrets at Gwen's horrified expression.
“I won't have another woman nurse my children.”
“It's what all royal women do -”
Her look is withering.
“All right,” he relents, nodding to the servant to fetch the other baby. “But at least consider it, especially if you're too tired.”
“I will.” The servant brings Duran in, and Gwen sets him against her breast.
“I think this one looks more like me,” he says, after a moment, only to find that Gwen's fallen asleep, Duran still nursing.
*
“I don't know, Merlin, I think this one looks like me,” Elyan says, dandling an oblivious Amhar. “What do you think, Gwen? Gwen?” He laughs as his sister jolts awake from the chaise.
“Oh, goodness!”
Elyan laughs again at her tone. “Don't worry, I think it's pretty understandable.”
Gwen gives him a slight smile that doesn't reach her eyes.
The infant squawks suddenly, eliciting chuckles from his uncle and godfather. “This one will be a talker,” Elyan declares.
“As long as he isn't loud, rude, and obnoxious -” Merlin says, over Elyan's laughter. Elyan looks up, to see Gwen staring at no particular point at the wall above Duran's crib.
“You all right, love? Gwen?”
She almost jumps out of the chaise. “Yes. It's time for Amhar's nap.” She holds out her arms for her son, and the two men think nothing of it.
*
Merlin rounds the corner, head buried in the scroll of parchment as he mutters to himself. Gwen's recovery had lasted months - twins will do that, he supposes - and as a result she hasn't been seeing to matters of state as much as she had before. Merlin had gladly shouldered these responsibilities, but that meant extra work for him and -
A pained sob. Merlin stops dead in his tracks. “Gwen?” he asks, rushing to the alcove.
She looks up immediately. He frowns - her eyes are dry. “Are you okay?”
“Yes.” She clears her throat. “What's that?”
“Just the granary reports.”
“May I?”
He pauses, then says, slowly, “Of course.” As she reads, he notes the lace of her sleeve - darkened, as if dampened by moisture.
*
When Arthur wakes up for the fourth times that night, it's for the same reason - one of the boys is screaming. But instead of rushing out, like the first three times, Gwen is curled beside him, fast asleep. Finally. Arthur wipes his face, starts to get out of bed to fetch the wet nurse. But the movement jostles her awake.
“W-what?”
“Go back to bed, I'll get -”
“No.” Gwen stands up, scans the floor. “Did you see my slippers?”
Arthur winces - the baby's crying is louder now. He'll - Duran, he guesses, from the squall - wake Amhar any moment now. “Let the wet nurse. It's the reason we -”
Duran shrieks, high-pitched and needy. “I'm coming, oh, I'm sorry, I don't know how I didn't hear - ” Gwen calls, foregoing slippers. Arthur stares as she disappears through the door to the nursery - she sounded almost tearful.
Bewildered, he follows her. He had tried to heed Gaius' counsel - that he himself was just suffering from the anxieties of a new, young father - and made sure that Gwen did not want for anything: more servants, her favorite food, everything.
And yet, Merlin told him a week ago that he could've sworn he heard Gwen crying.
The narrow corridor is short, the door to the nursery cracked open. In the predawn light, Gwen sits at the chaise, nursing Duran. She does not look up, even as he puts a hand upon her hair, and waits with her for their son to finish.
*
“Can you say, 'Elyan'? Ely. Yan. Elyan.”
Duran blinks up at him owlishly. “Buh!”
“Close enough.”
Gwen gives a slight smile, but does not glance up from the stack of parchment on her desk. Elyan's own smile fades, and he carefully sets Duran down on the floor. The boy immediately grabs a wooden horse. He picks up Amhar and sets him on his knee, facing Gwen. He pulls Amhar's arms over the baby's head. “Look, Mum, no hands!” This sends Amhar into peals of delighted giggles.
Gwen looks up, smiles listlessly, but says nothing.
Elyan stops bouncing his nephew. “Gwen - are you all right?”
“I'm fine,” she responds, automatically.
Elyan frowns, ruffles Amhar's black curls. “You sure?” He can't remember the last time her eyes lit up. Maybe that harried day he kissed her good luck on the forehead, right before the midwife led the men away from her chambers.
Duran bangs the toy horse upon the stones and it cracks in half. At his surprised wail, Gwen stands immediately, scoops him up. “There, there,” she says, patting his brown hair.
Elyan bites his lip at the flatness of her tone. He excuses himself, then goes directly to the council room. “You were right,” he says, as a worried Arthur and Merlin usher him inside.
*
“Gwen?”
She finally looks up from the window. “Oh hello Merlin.”
Merlin licks his lips, kneels down by her chair. He holds her hands, takes a breath. “My mother is visiting.”
“Hunith?” Her eyebrows knit. Once, she would've smiled. “How nice.”
“Yes.” Merlin squeezes her hands. “I was speaking with Gaius. He said that when I was a baby, my mother was very much not herself after she gave birth to me -”
Gwen yanks her hand out of Merlin's grip. “I'm fine, Merlin, just tired.”
He shakes his head, refuses to listen to the excuse again. “Gwen, we're all so worried about you -”
“I'm fine.” She looks up, but her eyes shine and her smile wavers. “Really.”
Merlin sucks in his lips, puts his hands on her shoulders. “Gwen.”
It takes a beat or two. Maybe more. Then suddenly her face crumples, and she almost seems to shrink inward. “Merlin -“ She begins to sob, and he reaches for her, terrified and at the same time, relieved. “I don't know - what's wrong with me. I just feel so wretched and I'm so sorry - I've worried you all, haven't I? I'm sorry.”
“Stop it, all right? Don't apologize. It'll be okay.”
*
“Here you go.” Hunith wraps the blanket around Gwen's shoulders and sits down next to her on the grass.
Gwen smiles back. The last month has been . . . better. At first, she'd felt even more awful than before, when Hunith insisted that they take the twins to a wet nurse. Gwen had thought it was because they all thought she was a bad mother. But Hunith had merely looked her in the eye and said, in her gentle way, “No, dear. It's so they can get their nourishment, and you can take care of yourself for a while.”
“There's no shame in this,” Hunith would say later, over a hot meal and merciful peace. “Many women go through it. In time, some muddle through. Others need guidance, other women to tell them all will be well and hold their hand.” Hunith had gripped hers here. “From what I have seen of you, and from what my boy and your family tell me - it is okay to be selfish sometimes. It is okay for you to be not so strong.”
Ah, that was the rub, wasn't it? In the time when she was supposed to be the least selfish, the least vulnerable - for her babies - she found herself floundering, unable to bear the brunt of so much responsibility. For most of her life she had been an anchor for someone - for Elyan, who would need his sister in the wake of their mother's death - Father, who would need her to be the woman of the household - Merlin, who needed a friend - Arthur, who needed his wife and queen. Ironic, that she felt she could not cling to them, even though all were willing. Why was that?
Perhaps she would never know. She would just have to try her hardest to lift herself out of this mire - and to not, for the first time, do so alone.
Today, Hunith tells her stories of Merlin's childhood - the scrapes he and Will would get into, thanks to his magic - and Gwen tells her of her mother. “I think of her as perfect, how much she loved us, and I confess, such a standard has become a burden.”
“All women feel this, it's just made more poignant in your condition.”
“And there are times that I feel ungrateful - that I should be so happy, instead of glum, with such beautiful boys -”
“It's not ingratitude that you're feeling,” Hunith reminds her firmly, but not ungently.
Gwen nods, spies Elyan and Merlin down the hill, both men carrying a twin each. “Do you want to go down to them?”
She ponders, noting the way both boys squirm in their uncles' grasps. The men reach Arthur, on his way back from training. He kisses one twin on the cheek and tickles the other. Gwen smiles. “No, I would rather sit here for a while longer,” she replies, honestly, as Hunith proudly grins.
*
Arthur returns from a council meeting expecting - well, he's not sure what, exactly. Nonetheless, he's a bit flummoxed to find his wife sitting in bed, both boys crawling amongst the sheets and babbling to each other.
“Hello.”
“Hello,” she replies.
An ease settles in him, to see the same glimmer that used to grace her eyes returned to him. “Hunith?”
“A walk with Merlin. I wanted -” She nods at the boys, who are now playing a weak tug-of-war with one of the pillows.
“Understandable.” He sits next to her. “They've missed you.”
“And I, them.” Gwen looks up, her smile tremulous. “I'm sorry for everything.”
“You don't have to be,” he says. He wants, but can't seem, to say, I just wish I could've helped. Instead he kisses her forehead, and asks, “Gwen? Is everything all right now?”
She starts to reply, “I'm fine,” but he pulls away and looks her in the eye this time. She bites her lip, then admits, “I'm a little . . . concerned. Sometimes I think I might go back to being . . .” She flutters her hand about, unable to articulate these past few months, then reaches out to cup his cheek. “I'll try not to. But if I do -”
“You won't. I won't let you. We all won't.” He kisses her, then leans back against the headboard, Gwen against his chest. Together, they watch the boys getting lost in their own little world of linens and sunlight, as she tells him, haltingly, about her mother, and what it was like to watch her take care of Elyan.
________________________________________________________________________________________________
#3. At Road's End (PG-13, 1999 words)
Expectancy was mostly going well for Guinevere. She had only been sick twice, her exhaustion had passed, and she often remarked that she loved being with child. However, she also had to sacrifice a few of the other things she loved, such as the weekly picnic luncheons she and Arthur took, returning to their clearing in the woods to get away from the stresses of Camelot. When the midwife recommended against riding early in the pregnancy, and knowing that traveling over rough terrain in a carriage was no better for her, it came as a disappointment to them both. That was, until Arthur came up with the idea to have a good road built partway to the clearing.
He did not want it to run too close, just near enough that a walk from its end would not be overly taxing for Gwen. Once it was finished, he commandeered the best carriage from the royal stables to provide the most comfortable ride possible, and taking the reins himself so as to keep their afternoons private. But, they had not considered how removed the driver's seat was from the passenger's box. Being that neither one of them enjoyed the separation on what was supposed to be a shared outing, Guinevere had devised a cart with an excellently padded bed behind the driver's bench, enabling them to converse as they rode along. That worked nicely, and in the months that followed, they spent one afternoon a week to themselves. Here or there, an emergency summons would bring them back early, or the weather would turn; yet, most of their short sabbaticals were spent peacefully.
On a warm day in early fall, they set out as usual for what would likely be their last trip for awhile, as it was nearing the time when Gwen should not venture far from the castle. Sometimes, they merely enjoyed the ride in companionable silence, so when she proved to be quiet that day, Arthur thought nothing of it. She walked slower than usual as they made their way from the road to the clearing, but that was also not out of the ordinary anymore. However, the way she alternated between sitting stiffly and shifting around was unlike her, and when she flinched, he frowned and asked, "Are you all right?"
Giving him a tight smile, she nodded. "I've been having false pains all day, but it will pass."
"You're sure? Would it help if I fetched a few more cushions from the cart?" They had brought a few already, but there were plenty more to be had.
"It might," she agreed.
The walk took longer than he liked, and Arthur kicked himself for going when he returned to find her doubled over and whimpering. Tossing the cushions aside, he rushed over. "Guinevere, what is it? What's wrong?"
"The pains... are not false," she gasped. "My waters..." She broke off on a fresh moan, grabbing tightly onto his arm.
He had no idea what she meant about water, but the gist of it was plain enough. Blindsided, he obtusely stated, "But-- you still have almost a month left."
Her grip on his arm began to ease. Taking a couple of deep breaths, she said, "Apparently not."
Her attempt at a smile did not do much to lessen the shock of the situation. "Let's get back to the castle." Holding out his hands for her, he stood and helped her to rise. Yet, as they neared the edge of the clearing, she cried out and bent over again, sinking her fingernails into his forearms when he went to steady her, and shook her head as the pain seemed to pass.
"I cannot... I cannot go."
"Guinevere, you must. If you're unable to walk, I'll carry you, but we have to go back."
"It's happening so quickly; I don't think I will make it. I would rather stay here than risk it happening in the cart."
Her statement ruled out any thought of going to fetch help. If she could not make it to the castle, he could not get there and back again-- not that he was inclined to leave her, anyway. Still, that left one, enormous problem: "I do not know what to do."
She began to reply, but was seized by a pain before she could. Supporting her as best he could, Arthur fought away a wave of panic. He could not panic; that was how control of a situation was lost. When it would not dissipate, he channeled it into fear. Fear could be constructive and was, he felt, entirely justified. He was fully prepared to protect his wife and child, yet he was completely unprepared to help his wife bring that child into the world, especially when that posed so much danger to her. To both of them.
Regardless of his concerns, the choice was obviously out of anyone's hands. As Guinevere began to relax, she said, "Help me over to that tree? I want to lean against it." Once she was seated, he snagged the cushions and situated them around her.
Catching her breath after another pain, she told him, "I've assisted with a few births in the lower town." She went on to outline what would happen and what he would have to do if things went normally, as well as a couple of possibilities that might arise, and Arthur found himself wishing that a midwife would somehow happen upon the clearing.
Of course, none did. While having things laid out in steps like that helped him a little, what he disliked was having little way to help her, and no way to know exactly what was about to happen. She had to pause during the explanation and began to get tense toward the end of it, moaning as she bent forward and squeezing his hand so hard, her knuckles were white. Lost for anything else to do, he slid his other arm around her back and held her until she relaxed again.
At her direction, he got water warming over a fire for washing, and collected the blankets they had brought to the clearing. Meanwhile, her pains were rapidly progressing until she barely had time to catch her breath between them, and Arthur felt more useless as she labored and screamed and ground out words he had not been not aware that she knew.
When she cried out, "It's now," he briefly froze. He had no idea what he was doing; what if he did something wrong and lost one or both of them? What if he missed some sign that the midwife would have recognized and been able to handle? What if everything seemed to go fine, yet took a turn for the worse before they could get back? This was how he had lost his mother, how many women died... Guinevere was in agony, and there was nothing he could do to lessen it...
How had this seemed like a good idea?
None of those worries mattered at this point, however, and he reluctantly moved away from her side. She had her knees drawn up on either side of her, clutching them as she strained, and he lifted the hem of her skirt-- and breathed something between a prayer and a curse when he saw the top of a head.
As that head emerged completely and Arthur cleared out its nose and mouth the way Gwen had described, sheer emotion swamped him. A great deal of that was terror, but also awe, and a love so absolute it stole his breath. This was their child. He had thought he understood what that meant, but it had been an amorphous understanding, a concept that he was now realizing could not be fully grasped until it was experienced. This was no longer a sensation of bumps and kicks within Guinevere's belly, this was a small person which they had made. This was a person who would be part of their lives forever. Who, for some time, would rely on them for the most basic things, completely helpless.
Child and mother alike were both helpless at the moment, and he let out a sigh of relief that could only be a fraction of that which Guinevere was feeling when the infant finally slipped out into his hands. She collapsed back against the tree, catching her breath, and he grinned in relief when a lusty wail rang out in the clearing. Meeting Gwen's pleased gaze, he said softly, "We have a son." Placing the squalling boy into her outstretched arms, he covered them both with the blanket, warmed to his soul by the expression on her face.
Suddenly, she gasped sharply and managed to say, "Take the baby." Confused, since she had said the pain would have decreased now, he nonetheless retrieved the infant, wrapping him in the blanket as he did and wondering what he should do; he could hardly ask, but the fear that had mostly subsided began to multiply.
When she began to get over it, she breathlessly said, "The midwife was not sure, so I did not tell you in case she was wrong..."
"What?" he asked anxiously.
"There's another child." He stared at her blankly, knowing what she was saying but too stunned to process it immediately. "Twins, Arthur," she clarified, a hint of humor in her eyes.
"Twins." Good lord.
"Twins. And," she winced, starting to tense again, "it does not appear that this one wants to wait before joining its brother."
Hastily washing and wrapping the elder child in a couple of clean blankets, Arthur arranged a few cushions on which to lay him. He finished that just in time, as the younger child arrived much more quickly than the first.
As a second cry sounded out, Arthur looked to his wife with an overwhelmed smile. "We have a daughter, too."
She merely nodded, thoroughly exhausted, but happily took the baby as he handed her over and snagged another blanket. "Please give me both of them," she requested then, her voice rough after yelling so much.
Things were a little chaotic at first, but finally everything was done, and everyone was cleaned and warm and fed. And named; choosing names had been simple, and done months ago. As Thomas fell asleep on his mother and Ygraine slumbered in her father's arms, Arthur glanced at Guinevere, where she rested on his shoulder. "I know I have said you always surprise me, but it has never been more true than today."
She peered up at him, and he continued, "What you did today..." He shook his head, temporarily at a loss for words. "That was the most incredible thing I have ever witnessed in my life. You are amazing. Beyond amazing. Astounding." Nor did that really convey what he meant, but he suspected there was no way to properly say it.
Guinevere smiled. "Most women give birth."
"Most of them do not do it twice at once," he pointed out. "But, even had it only been one child, I would not find it any less astounding."
"Thank you," she murmured.
"No, all thanks go to you." Kissing her on the forehead, he then looked back down at the sleeping babes. Reverently, he said, "Thank you, Guinevere."
They did need to get back to the castle, so shortly thereafter, Arthur got his family situated comfortably in the back of the cart. Some of the blankets were beyond use, so he grabbed his cape from where it had been set aside on the driver's bench and spread it over them.
Gwen laughed. "We will be making an entrance, I see."
He grinned. "I think that would have been the case, even without the cape." Still, there was a part of him that was quite pleased by the statement it made, inadvertent though it had been.
"That's true." He leaned over the side of the cart to kiss her, and as he straightened, she said, "Let's go home."
"Excellent idea."
________________________________________________________________________________________________
#4. Time Alone (R, 1028 words)
Arthur’s hand is laced in her hair as he leans down to kiss her. It’s sweet at first, but grows deeper as she pulls him flush on top of her. He groans and moves his hand down, skimming over her figure through her nightdress until he reaches her hip. Once he’s finally pulled up the skirt and contacted skin, Gwen sighs.
Gwen’s hands move up under his nightshirt and curl into his back as he starts to kiss down her neck and massage her thigh. Her leg trembles.
“Can you…?” she asks breathily.
He pulls back to look at her. “I suppose I can,” he replies with a cheeky grin.
Arthur scoots down the bed as he pushes her nightdress all the way up to her hips. He wets his lips, already imagining the sounds Guinevere makes when he does this.
Then there’s a small but furious knock on the door.
“Mum!”
Arthur groans, still smiling despite himself. “I suppose we should have known better than to try this during a storm.”
Gwen pulls down her nightdress and goes to answer the door.
“Yes, Llacheau?”
“I can’t sleep,” he says quietly.
“Would you like to sleep with me and your father?”
Llacheau nods furiously and walks to the bed. Arthur helps him up and pulls him onto his lap.
“Where’s your sister?”
“Gwydra’s not afraid of storms,” Llacheau answers with a pout.
“Ah, but she is afraid of spiders.”
Llacheau grins. “I know.”
“Don’t be getting any ideas,” Arthur warns.
Gwen’s about to close the door when Gwydra runs up.
“Mum!”
“I thought you weren’t afraid of storms?” Gwen asked.
“I’m not! But I woke up and Llacheau was gone.”
Arthur and Gwen exchanged smiles. The two were inseparable from birth.
“Alright,” Gwen says. “You can sleep with us, too.”
“Yay!” Gwydra runs for the bed and scrambles up to her father and brother.
It takes a while to calm them down but soon the twins fall asleep. They’re all wedged together, Gwydra and Llacheau wrapped up in each other between their parents.
“Maybe tomorrow night,” Gwen whispers.
Arthur chuckles quietly. “Tomorrow.”
-
Llacheau and Gwydra share everything. So naturally when Llacheau came down with a fever, Gwydra came down with one two hours later.
Gwen stays at their bedside for two days, the second of which is their anniversary.
Arthur comes in to check on them that afternoon. Gwydra and Llacheau perk up at the sight of him.
“Feeling better?”
Llacheau gives an unenthusiastic nod and Gwydra shakes her head.
“What about you, Guinevere?” he asks as he comes up and places his hand on her shoulder.
“Fine,” she says.
Arthur hmmms, noticing how her eyelids droop from lack of sleep.
She places her hand on his. “I don’t think I’ll be able to make tonight,” she says more quietly.
He squeezes her fingers and leans down to kiss her forehead. “I understand.”
“I’m sorry, Arthur.”
“Don’t worry about it. Our children sick and someone needs to take care of them. And we can’t trust the servants. One of them might try to make Llacheau or Gwydra fall in love with them. Then what will we do? Servants marrying royalty. It’s ridiculous.”
Llacheau and Gwydra start to giggle.
Gwen smiles. “Happy Anniversary to you, too, dear.”
Arthur bends down to kiss her. “Now off to bed with you.”
“What?”
“You need sleep. But our little prince and princess made demands for a parent to nurse them. That leaves me.”
Gwen sighs and stops arguing. “Thank you, Arthur.”
She kisses him again goodnight, followed by both the children’s foreheads.
“Now who wants to hear about the time I slayed a dragon?”
“You did not! Merlin said so!”
“Alright, alright,” he chuckles. “Can’t pull one over on you two, can I?”
-
Arthur wakes up to Gwen’s hand snaking down his trousers.
He grunts and smiles.
“Good morning, Guinevere.”
“Good morning,” she whispers, kissing his nose.
He moans as she leisurely begins to rub him. “It’s been awhile.”
“Exactly.” She kisses his chest, sucking on his collarbone and squeezing his arse with her other hand.
His own hand finds her breast, making her sigh in content and begin to push his trouser down for better access.
Gwen wraps her hand fully around him and gives him a slow, firm stroke.
He sucks air through his teeth. “Too long,” he grunts.
When someone bangs on the door, Arthur groan turns from pleasurable to frustrated.
“Arthur! Gwen!”
“It can wait, Merlin!”
“Lllacheau and Gwydra are gone!”
“What??”
“I think they’re going on a quest.”
“I told them they’re too young. Fourteen is not old enough for quests.”
Gwen laughs. “We should have seen that coming. Especially Gwydra. She’s stubborn, and Llacheau wouldn’t let her leave without him.”
Arthur grumbles as he gets up to start shoving on clothes. “She gets that from you, you know.”
“I’d say she gets that from you. How many times did you go off and do things without your father’s permission?”
Arthur can’t help a grin. “That’s different. I had a damsel to rescue. And all the other times had good excuses, too.”
“I’m sure.” Gwen finds his sword and hands it to him with a kiss on the cheek. “Bring them home, Arthur.”
-
Llacheau and Gwydra are eighteen. It feels like just yesterday that Gwydra first was held in Arthur’s arms as Gwen first held Llacheau.
Arthur couldn’t be prouder of his children, despite how terrified he is to realize that they’re all grown up.
“I think we did a good job raising them,” he says as he and Gwen return to their chambers once the festivities are over.
“They’ve grown into fine people,” she agrees.
He smiles and kisses her. “Both as beautiful as their mother.”
“And their father,” she says, kissing him back.
He pauses and grins. “What do you say to…?”
“Of course.”
Arthur pulls her close and kisses her more deeply, his hands wandering down to her arse. She giggles and begins to undo his cape and belt.
“You know now that they’re grown…?” she says.
“What?”
“We have more time for this,” she whispers.
He grins. “I suppose so.”
________________________________________________________________________________________________
* Thank you SO MUCH to our last four participants for submitting their entries.
* I hope I didn't mess up any of your fonts ie. italic fonts. I tried my best to keep your fonts. :D
All comments are screened.