Arthurian Legend: "As It Ever Shall Be" (2/8)
Title: As It Ever Shall Be (2/8)
Fandom: Arthurian Legend
Characters: Ensemble
In this Chapter: Guinevere, Merlin, Nimue
Rating: Explicit
Summary: A tale of a young girl who lusts after power, and a kingdom torn apart by desire.
Chapter One is here.
Chapter Two
“This way, m’lord.” The servants steps were quick, Merlin noticed, eager to hand the wizard over to his lord and be done with him. Fear was a powerful emotion to raise in people. “Here we are, m’lord,” said the servant, as he held open a door for Merlin. “The Lord Advisor, my lord,” he added to those within.
Merlin entered, letting the servant leave as quickly as possible. Inside the room, of course, was the Lord Leodegrance. Behind him stood his daughter Guinevere-Merlin did not think she would be allow herself to be absent from the wizard’s arrival.
The girl was short, Merlin thought-it was the second thought any person had upon seeing her. The first, one even so long sated as Merlin could not help thinking, was that she would be good to have in bed. Guinevere had a stature that went beyond her stunted physical one, a presence which immediately drew one in.
“Welcome, Lord Merlin,” said Leodegrance, as if the wizard had actually come to see him. Guinevere’s face remained impassive, the very image of a dutiful daughter. “And this is my lovely daughter, Guinevere.”
Lovely indeed. Was Leodegrance so ill that his daughter’s beauty failed to affect him? No father could be immune to such a daughter.
Guinevere curtsied, a slow, graceful gesture. “How do you do, Lord Merlin.” She could feel the wizard’s eyes burning into her, Merlin knew, and she gazed back into him. She was used to being stared at with unadulterated adulterous lust, he realized, but her features hardened as she realized that he was not judging her looks, but her soul.
She smiled at him, a smile which would enflame the passion of any normal man. Well, wizard, she seemed to be saying, is my soul black enough?
“Everything is all right, I hope?” asked Leodegrance, totally unaware of the silent conversation between Merlin and his daughter. The lord seemed frightened, as if he were worried Merlin might still be carrying some unhappy message from the king, outlining a grievance or some such. Oh, well-the better for Leodegrance the less he knew.
“Yes, how is Caerleon?” chimes in Guinevere, her voice disarming. In the name of womanish curiosity, a girl could get away with anything. Guinevere, it seemed, was not afraid to press her advantage.
“There is the good along with the worse, as ever,” answered Merlin. “What can one do, save one’s best, and then accept the rest as it comes?”
“Certainly, no more than that can be expected of you,” responded Leodegrance. “I pray that Fortune sees fit to send more good than ill with that rest.”
Why should Fortune answer your prayers, old man? She favors the bold, and there are those among who do not strive for the good over the ill. “That remains to be seen,” he said, with a last look at Guinevere. “Fortune is known to be fickle, but perhaps She and I can come to some sort of arrangement.
. . .
“Forgive me if I am intruding.”
Guinevere turned on her bed towards the shadowy corner. “It would be naïve of me to think,” she answered, “that the lack of my forgiveness would keep you from intruding, or that mere stone and wood could keep a sorcerer out of a chamber he wishes to be in.”
“You speak truth, my lady,” said Merlin as he stepped towards her, out of the shadows. “Although, still, it would have been easier if you have left the door unlocked.”
Guinevere shrugged. “I must protect my purity, Lord Wizard, or else it be common knowledge that there is nothing to protect.”
Merlin nodded, then lifted a pouch from his robes and opened it upon Guinevere’s bed. The noble girl watched the rat come out of it. “You have met Nimue, I believe?”
“Yes, when you sent the child to act as your emissary.” There was reproof in Guinevere’s voice.
“A child? She is older than you are, my lady, by several centuries. And you are both old enough for what needs to be done, are you not? Isn’t that what this is all about?”
“It is,” agreed Guinevere, lifting up Nimue and placing the rat-or the girl, whichever-in her lap. “If it can be so arranged.”
“Anything can be arranged, if the right people wish it to be so. Kingdoms rise and fall. Marriages are brokered. Men are ruined. Other men become wealthy. All because of arrangements made in shadows.”
“Or in bedrooms?” Guinevere made an expansive gesture.
“Or in bedrooms.”
Guinevere smiled, running her hand across Nimue’s back. “It is best if the arrangement benefits everyone, in such a case.”
“One would think so.”
“Then we should get along fine.” Nimue climbed up Guinevere’s nightshirt, pulling herself up onto Guinevere’s breast and then onto her shoulder. “We each desire power, my lord, and we each shall have it.”
“There are those who would say I already have it.”
“Your power is established deeply enough,” admitted Guinevere. “So deeply that your foundation is steadfast. Do you not weary of such security, my lord? Do you not long for the thrill of adventure, for the risk of the hunt? What is the purpose of the establishment of power, if one cannot revel in its execution? One might as well build a hundred castles, when one can only sleep in one at a time. Or think of Solomon with his thousand wives: do you think he lay with all one thousand every night? If so, I pity the thousandth girl, or even the nine hundred and ninety ninth!”
“And what would you do with the thousandth girl?” asked Merlin.
Guinevere looked up to her, her cold blue eyes unyielding. “I would hold her naked beneath my body, and wrap my hands around her slender neck until the last breath of life was wrestled out of her. That is power, my lord. “
Guinevere lifted Nimue off her shoulder, held her in front of her. “There is no greater power, no greater end, then to hold the life of a man or a woman or a child in your hands. You are a wizard, you hold that power every day. One day-“ she dropped Nimue, and the rat scampered off behind Merlin’s leg. “One day, you will let that power loose, will you not? And you will do it through me. I will be your sword, Lord Wizard., and with me you will strike down all nine hundred and ninety wives until only one is left, and then you will ravish that one, and ravish her again, and then you will ravish her children and her children’s children.”
Talk of ravishing while she sat in front of him in her nightgown. The girl was brazen, all right, Merlin would give her that. If anyone could pull off what she was promising, it was she.
“And as for now. . . .”
“As for now?” asked Merlin. “My thoughts are not for the here and now.”
“No man’s thoughts completely leave the here and now,” Guinvere noted wryly. “Name your price, wizard.”
“You have no coin that I have not held before,” Merlin said. “You will buy nothing from me.”
Guinevere stood-offended? “My coins may be of the sort you have held before,” pointed out Guinevere. “But have you ever seen any as good as mine?”
“No,” Merlin had to admit. He had been alive for centuries, and this girl was certainly one of a kind. “Still it wouldn’t be enough. That type of novelty was lost long ago.”
“And yet?”
“And yet.”
Nimue remained a rat through it all.
. . .
“What are we to do about your father?”
Guinevere looked up to the wizard, waited for him to go on.
“If this is to work, we must get you to Caerleon, obviously. Your father seems to be an obstacle. We have a number of options: we could kill him, we could persuade him, or we can use . . . other methods.”
This was really happening, wasn’t it? The deal had been brokered-consummated, even-and now Merlin was asking her opinion on the best way to go about it, even giving her the option of killing her father. “Believe me,” said Guinevere, “normal means of persuasion have not worked. I would recommend . . . other methods. After all, it would be a shame to kill the man. He may yet prove useful.”
Merlin nodded, took a vial from his robes, and set it down in front of Nimue, who still held the form of a rat. “Be sure this finds its way into the lord’s soup bowl, Nimue. I will take care of the rest.” He turned back to Guinevere. “I’ll assume you can . . . persuade the king,” he said. “I do not fancy much persuasion will be necessary.”
“Whatever it takes,” answered Guinevere. After all, it was not any small prize she was after, but the queenship of all Britain. Soon she would be playing the game as it was meant to played, with the entire fate of the island of Britain hanging in the balance. Only Merlin-and the Emperor of Rome, of course-would rival her power.
Her merest whim would shape the destiny of millions of people. All of them would be bound to her will-by the law, by her own manipulative ability, and of course, by her sexual appeal.
Oh, Arthur-already under Merlin’s thumb-would be tractable enough, Guinevere had no doubt. He had already let Merlin rule the country for him, without even realizing what he was doing. At Merlin’s whim, he would ride out with his sword Calagwllch and decimate cities in rebellion-rebellion due to the instiution of harsh policies, at Merlin’s advice-and destroy anyone who stood against him. Only the Queens of Faerie, four powerful sorceresses, remained from one year to next to oppose him, and even they were impotent. But Arthur understood nothing.
He’d have to understand even less. Arthur, after all, was a man, and a man who lived almost his entire life under Merlin’s shadow and tutelage, and under his spells. If there was any man who could not control his passions, it would be Arthur, King of the Britons.
Putting up with him would no doubt be an incredible bore; what could she expect from a man over twice her age? But as long as she received her power, she would be happy. There would be younger men as well in Caerleon, and she knew how to be discrete.
“Then as soon as your father agrees,” Merlin said, a knowing smile on his face, “we shall leave for Caerleon, and you shall meet your future husband. I presume you have an acceptable dress?”
Fandom: Arthurian Legend
Characters: Ensemble
In this Chapter: Guinevere, Merlin, Nimue
Rating: Explicit
Summary: A tale of a young girl who lusts after power, and a kingdom torn apart by desire.
Chapter One is here.
Chapter Two
“This way, m’lord.” The servants steps were quick, Merlin noticed, eager to hand the wizard over to his lord and be done with him. Fear was a powerful emotion to raise in people. “Here we are, m’lord,” said the servant, as he held open a door for Merlin. “The Lord Advisor, my lord,” he added to those within.
Merlin entered, letting the servant leave as quickly as possible. Inside the room, of course, was the Lord Leodegrance. Behind him stood his daughter Guinevere-Merlin did not think she would be allow herself to be absent from the wizard’s arrival.
The girl was short, Merlin thought-it was the second thought any person had upon seeing her. The first, one even so long sated as Merlin could not help thinking, was that she would be good to have in bed. Guinevere had a stature that went beyond her stunted physical one, a presence which immediately drew one in.
“Welcome, Lord Merlin,” said Leodegrance, as if the wizard had actually come to see him. Guinevere’s face remained impassive, the very image of a dutiful daughter. “And this is my lovely daughter, Guinevere.”
Lovely indeed. Was Leodegrance so ill that his daughter’s beauty failed to affect him? No father could be immune to such a daughter.
Guinevere curtsied, a slow, graceful gesture. “How do you do, Lord Merlin.” She could feel the wizard’s eyes burning into her, Merlin knew, and she gazed back into him. She was used to being stared at with unadulterated adulterous lust, he realized, but her features hardened as she realized that he was not judging her looks, but her soul.
She smiled at him, a smile which would enflame the passion of any normal man. Well, wizard, she seemed to be saying, is my soul black enough?
“Everything is all right, I hope?” asked Leodegrance, totally unaware of the silent conversation between Merlin and his daughter. The lord seemed frightened, as if he were worried Merlin might still be carrying some unhappy message from the king, outlining a grievance or some such. Oh, well-the better for Leodegrance the less he knew.
“Yes, how is Caerleon?” chimes in Guinevere, her voice disarming. In the name of womanish curiosity, a girl could get away with anything. Guinevere, it seemed, was not afraid to press her advantage.
“There is the good along with the worse, as ever,” answered Merlin. “What can one do, save one’s best, and then accept the rest as it comes?”
“Certainly, no more than that can be expected of you,” responded Leodegrance. “I pray that Fortune sees fit to send more good than ill with that rest.”
Why should Fortune answer your prayers, old man? She favors the bold, and there are those among who do not strive for the good over the ill. “That remains to be seen,” he said, with a last look at Guinevere. “Fortune is known to be fickle, but perhaps She and I can come to some sort of arrangement.
. . .
“Forgive me if I am intruding.”
Guinevere turned on her bed towards the shadowy corner. “It would be naïve of me to think,” she answered, “that the lack of my forgiveness would keep you from intruding, or that mere stone and wood could keep a sorcerer out of a chamber he wishes to be in.”
“You speak truth, my lady,” said Merlin as he stepped towards her, out of the shadows. “Although, still, it would have been easier if you have left the door unlocked.”
Guinevere shrugged. “I must protect my purity, Lord Wizard, or else it be common knowledge that there is nothing to protect.”
Merlin nodded, then lifted a pouch from his robes and opened it upon Guinevere’s bed. The noble girl watched the rat come out of it. “You have met Nimue, I believe?”
“Yes, when you sent the child to act as your emissary.” There was reproof in Guinevere’s voice.
“A child? She is older than you are, my lady, by several centuries. And you are both old enough for what needs to be done, are you not? Isn’t that what this is all about?”
“It is,” agreed Guinevere, lifting up Nimue and placing the rat-or the girl, whichever-in her lap. “If it can be so arranged.”
“Anything can be arranged, if the right people wish it to be so. Kingdoms rise and fall. Marriages are brokered. Men are ruined. Other men become wealthy. All because of arrangements made in shadows.”
“Or in bedrooms?” Guinevere made an expansive gesture.
“Or in bedrooms.”
Guinevere smiled, running her hand across Nimue’s back. “It is best if the arrangement benefits everyone, in such a case.”
“One would think so.”
“Then we should get along fine.” Nimue climbed up Guinevere’s nightshirt, pulling herself up onto Guinevere’s breast and then onto her shoulder. “We each desire power, my lord, and we each shall have it.”
“There are those who would say I already have it.”
“Your power is established deeply enough,” admitted Guinevere. “So deeply that your foundation is steadfast. Do you not weary of such security, my lord? Do you not long for the thrill of adventure, for the risk of the hunt? What is the purpose of the establishment of power, if one cannot revel in its execution? One might as well build a hundred castles, when one can only sleep in one at a time. Or think of Solomon with his thousand wives: do you think he lay with all one thousand every night? If so, I pity the thousandth girl, or even the nine hundred and ninety ninth!”
“And what would you do with the thousandth girl?” asked Merlin.
Guinevere looked up to her, her cold blue eyes unyielding. “I would hold her naked beneath my body, and wrap my hands around her slender neck until the last breath of life was wrestled out of her. That is power, my lord. “
Guinevere lifted Nimue off her shoulder, held her in front of her. “There is no greater power, no greater end, then to hold the life of a man or a woman or a child in your hands. You are a wizard, you hold that power every day. One day-“ she dropped Nimue, and the rat scampered off behind Merlin’s leg. “One day, you will let that power loose, will you not? And you will do it through me. I will be your sword, Lord Wizard., and with me you will strike down all nine hundred and ninety wives until only one is left, and then you will ravish that one, and ravish her again, and then you will ravish her children and her children’s children.”
Talk of ravishing while she sat in front of him in her nightgown. The girl was brazen, all right, Merlin would give her that. If anyone could pull off what she was promising, it was she.
“And as for now. . . .”
“As for now?” asked Merlin. “My thoughts are not for the here and now.”
“No man’s thoughts completely leave the here and now,” Guinvere noted wryly. “Name your price, wizard.”
“You have no coin that I have not held before,” Merlin said. “You will buy nothing from me.”
Guinevere stood-offended? “My coins may be of the sort you have held before,” pointed out Guinevere. “But have you ever seen any as good as mine?”
“No,” Merlin had to admit. He had been alive for centuries, and this girl was certainly one of a kind. “Still it wouldn’t be enough. That type of novelty was lost long ago.”
“And yet?”
“And yet.”
Nimue remained a rat through it all.
. . .
“What are we to do about your father?”
Guinevere looked up to the wizard, waited for him to go on.
“If this is to work, we must get you to Caerleon, obviously. Your father seems to be an obstacle. We have a number of options: we could kill him, we could persuade him, or we can use . . . other methods.”
This was really happening, wasn’t it? The deal had been brokered-consummated, even-and now Merlin was asking her opinion on the best way to go about it, even giving her the option of killing her father. “Believe me,” said Guinevere, “normal means of persuasion have not worked. I would recommend . . . other methods. After all, it would be a shame to kill the man. He may yet prove useful.”
Merlin nodded, took a vial from his robes, and set it down in front of Nimue, who still held the form of a rat. “Be sure this finds its way into the lord’s soup bowl, Nimue. I will take care of the rest.” He turned back to Guinevere. “I’ll assume you can . . . persuade the king,” he said. “I do not fancy much persuasion will be necessary.”
“Whatever it takes,” answered Guinevere. After all, it was not any small prize she was after, but the queenship of all Britain. Soon she would be playing the game as it was meant to played, with the entire fate of the island of Britain hanging in the balance. Only Merlin-and the Emperor of Rome, of course-would rival her power.
Her merest whim would shape the destiny of millions of people. All of them would be bound to her will-by the law, by her own manipulative ability, and of course, by her sexual appeal.
Oh, Arthur-already under Merlin’s thumb-would be tractable enough, Guinevere had no doubt. He had already let Merlin rule the country for him, without even realizing what he was doing. At Merlin’s whim, he would ride out with his sword Calagwllch and decimate cities in rebellion-rebellion due to the instiution of harsh policies, at Merlin’s advice-and destroy anyone who stood against him. Only the Queens of Faerie, four powerful sorceresses, remained from one year to next to oppose him, and even they were impotent. But Arthur understood nothing.
He’d have to understand even less. Arthur, after all, was a man, and a man who lived almost his entire life under Merlin’s shadow and tutelage, and under his spells. If there was any man who could not control his passions, it would be Arthur, King of the Britons.
Putting up with him would no doubt be an incredible bore; what could she expect from a man over twice her age? But as long as she received her power, she would be happy. There would be younger men as well in Caerleon, and she knew how to be discrete.
“Then as soon as your father agrees,” Merlin said, a knowing smile on his face, “we shall leave for Caerleon, and you shall meet your future husband. I presume you have an acceptable dress?”