Fic: In Joy and Woe, as in a Doubtful Ease (1/7)

[angelqueen04]

“Merlin!”

Such a shout - a very kingly bellow - was no doubt very familiar to the inhabitants of the citadel. They’d certainly heard their king yell for his wayward manservant often enough in the years since Merlin had come into his service. Still, as familiar as it was to everyone, it made it no less irritating to Arthur himself for having to shout for the idiot.

He stood in the center of his chambers, his hair wet and body still slightly damp from the bath he’d just finished taking. There was a thick towel wrapped around his waist, but except for that, he was without even his smallclothes. Arthur ground his teeth in annoyance. Was it truly that difficult for Merlin to have returned by now with a clean set of clothes for him to wear for the council meeting that was due to begin in less than twenty minutes?

Arthur glared at the closed door and opened his mouth, ready to holler for Merlin again, when suddenly the door in question flew open. Merlin dashed in, skidding to a halt long enough to slam the door shut again behind him. “I’m here, I’m here!” the younger man exclaimed, holding out several different articles of clothing, all of which were bunched together messily.

Arthur rolled his eyes and, while holding the towel to his body with one hand, reached out with his other hand to snatch them from Merlin. “How is it that you’re even more incompetent now when you have an assistant to help you with your duties?” he asked, turning and walking back behind his changing screen. After tossing his clothes on a nearby stand, he discarded his towel. “Edgar is supposed to make things easier,” he added.

Arthur could hear Merlin’s snort. “You would think so,” he replied, “but Edgar wasn’t taught to be a manservant any more than I was. It’s going to take a while to get him trained up to Your Pratness’ specifications.” There was a rustle of papers, and then Merlin continued, “Tell me again why George couldn’t do all of this? He’s so well-suited to it. He’d love to slave over your washing day in and day out.”

Arthur rolled his eyes as he quickly dressed himself. “Because George took a position in Lord Lionel’s household,” he explained yet again, not bothering to add that Arthur would have refused to make George Merlin’s assistant even if he hadn’t. He could only stand the other man in small doses, much like Gaius’ foul-tasting tonics, and would have assuredly gone mad if the man had been permanently assigned to his service.

Once he’d finished, Arthur glanced in the mirror. His hair was stuck up in various places, so he quickly grabbed a nearby comb and ran it through the wet strands. After a few brushes, he was satisfied and stepped back out into the room. Merlin, he saw, was standing by his desk, his hands full of documents. His head was bent as his eyes roamed over the top document in the pile.

“Come along, Merlin,” Arthur said. “If you’ve made me late, it’s the stocks for you and Edgar both.”

Merlin merely hummed an absent agreement, following along behind him as he moved to leave the room. His eyes were intent on the documents in his hands.

Arthur led the way to the council chamber, nodding to the various servants that he and Merlin passed along the way. The citadel had been a veritable beehive of activity in the past several weeks since Camelot had been retaken. This occupation had been briefer than the previous one - five days as opposed to ten - but it had been far more destructive. While the immortal soldiers Morgana and Morgause had commandeered had fought their way into Camelot, they had not despoiled the castle while they had occupied it. It seemed that immortals had no need to piss and shit in every corner, or wreck the kitchens in their demands to be fed the food of kings and nobles, or torment the servants when the mood struck them. That, unfortunately, wasn’t the case with Helios’ army of mercenaries. The stench they’d left behind had only recently begun to fade from the corridors, though Ida, the head of the kitchens, was still bemoaning the damage done to her domain.

That wasn’t the worst of it, though, Arthur reminded himself grimly. There had been several reported cases of the mercenaries importuning maids. None had straightforwardly declared that they had been raped, but Arthur had seen the wary, frightened eyes of enough of the young women to know that there had been more than a pat or pinch of the backside going on.

In the retaking of Camelot, many of the mercenaries had fought back, but they had been caught off-guard, much as Arthur and his knights had been the night of Beltane. Some had surrendered, but many had resisted, even to the death, when they’d seen no avenue of escape. Those that had surrendered had been locked away in the dungeons - Arthur had made a point of putting them in the same squalid areas that they’d confined men like Gaius, Gwaine, and Elyan in - pending a trial. That was just one of the many tasks that were on his plate and that of his council.



Tintagel

Greetings, my name is Vevay. I am the Princess of Cornwall, daughter of Varlen, Prince of Cornwall and his wife, the Lady Kaelyn de Bois. My twin sister is Vivienne, Lady of Cornwall.

I find this journal very strange. It was a gift from my nurse, Asa, this past night. She herself does not know how to write, but told me that my mother’s handwriting was very fine, and that by writing in this journal I will improve my penmanship and write as well as my mother did. This is why I am writing, though it still feels strange, writing things as though I am speaking to someone.

My sister and I were born in Tintagel, the capital of Cornwall. We have grown up there, but now we are leaving. Our parents and many of our people were recently lost to the sweating sickness, which kills so many every year. Asa says that it is a miracle that Vivienne and I did not also succumb.

We are to travel to the lands of our mother’s brother, Lord Aglovale de Bois. He is to be our guardian and steward of Cornwall until we are of age. Once I am seventeen, just four years away, I will be of an age to rule, and Vivienne and I can return home. Asa will be coming with us, as will Edith, who is my sister’s nurse and special instructor. Vivienne is a Seer, you see. Her gift isn’t an especially powerful one, but it is intense and according to Edith, even the smallest gift in Seeing can cause great harm if a person does not receive proper training on how to control it. That is why Edith was employed by my parents. Before, Asa had overseen both Vivienne and me, but with Edith’s inclusion, Asa was left to look after me more closely than she had been able to before.

I have never met my uncle, though I do remember my mother speaking highly of him, and clearly my father trusted him with the care and safety of his daughters and his kingdom. As much as I do not want to leave Tintagel, I admit to being a bit curious about him - and his family, who are also my kin.

I shall write again when I have more to say.



Upon entering the room, Arthur saw that he and Merlin thankfully were not the last to arrive. In the aftermath of Agravaine’s betrayal, Arthur had begun working to reorganize his council. There was no way he could be certain that Agravaine hadn’t had the others in his pocket, having them look the other way while he performed his treasonous activities on Morgana’s behalf. What made him especially suspicious of them was the fact that, out of all of the council members, only Gaius and Geoffrey had been imprisoned during the occupation. The rest had been left unmolested, their property undamaged, while Gaius’ workroom and Geoffrey’s suite of chambers had been thoroughly ransacked.

There was no way to be entirely certain, aside from interrogation and possibly torture, but the fact remained that Arthur couldn’t trust the majority of the council that is father had left him. There was nothing to do but replace them. His current council was the result of his actions.

Gwen had seated herself to the left of Arthur’s own chair and was deep in conversation with Leon, who sat next to her. There had been some mutterings from the nobles about his decision to appoint his wife to the council - something not even his father had done for his mother, for all that he had valued her advice and wisdom, according to the stories - but Arthur had brushed their concerns aside. He considered Gwen wiser than most men he knew. He wasn’t about to let pride and tradition get in the way of having her voice heard.

Leon’s presence was a given. Even before Morgana had invaded, the knight had been an unofficial member of the council. Now he was a full-fledged member, and Arthur thought that they were all the better for it. He, like Gwen, was more inclined to be the voice of reason, offsetting Arthur’s more impulsive tendencies.

In addition to Gwen and Leon, Arthur had also appointed Elyan, Gwaine, and Percival. No one could reasonably object to Elyan, given his status as the brother of Camelot’s new queen, and Gwaine and Percival were of proven loyalty. Arthur knew he would have to appoint others in the future, mostly from the nobles, so as to keep them from shrieking about favoritism being granted to the ‘lowborn’ elements of Arthur’s court. Still, that could wait, when he’d had time to evaluate the noble houses.

Gaius and Geoffrey retained their places at the table, though their recovery from their days in captivity had been slow. Geoffrey was still absent, recuperating under the devoted care of his wife, daughter, and his son’s wife.

Lastly, there was Merlin. Arthur had known that there would be even more protests over the idea of appointing a servant to the council, even one who had proved his loyalty on numerous occasions. That had been why Arthur had slowly begun raising Merlin’s status in the eyes of the world. Technically, Merlin wasn’t even his manservant any longer, but rather his personal assistant and scribe. Merlin still performed some his old duties, though, such as caring for Arthur’s armor and weapons. The other man absolutely refused to let anyone so much as touch the sword that Arthur had pulled from the stone, let alone clean it. Aside from those tasks, however, Merlin was training Edgar to take over as Arthur’s manservant.

As Arthur strode in, Merlin at his heels, some of those present had leapt to their feet in respect. Or rather, Leon and Elyan did. Gwaine, for instance, just waved at him cheerily from his chair while he contented himself with eating an apple. Gwen smiled at him, looking particularly fetching in the lovely blue gown that had just lately been delivered from the seamstresses. Before Arthur sat down at the head of the table, he reached out and took Gwen’s hand, pressing a kiss to the inside of her wrist. He struggled to repress a grin when she blushed.

Gwaine, predictably, groaned. “All right, lovebirds, save it for later, after the rest of us have gone to get ourselves some attention of our own,” he said teasingly.

Arthur rolled his eyes. “You mean there’s a barmaid in Camelot that hasn’t slapped you for your attempts to get their ‘attention’?” he mocked, and then glanced around. “Percival and Gaius?”

“Percival went to accompany Gaius, Sire,” Leon supplied. When Merlin, who had seated himself at Arthur’s right, straightened up in alarm, he added, “He’s all right, just weary.”

Merlin calmed, but still had a pensive expression on his face.

Percival and Gaius did indeed join them in the next few minutes, taking their places at the table, the former between Elyan and Leon and the latter between Merlin and Gwaine. Once they were all giving him his attention, Arthur spoke. “What news?”

Leon was the first to respond. “Elyan and I have been taking stock of the damage to the crops and supplies throughout the kingdom, Sire,” he said. “It seems that when the people refused to accept and honor Morgana as Queen, she ordered that their crops be burned. No doubt she hoped to starve them into submission.”

Arthur suppressed a flinch, trying not to remember all of the times Morgana had urged his… their father to supplement the people’s food supplies when they faced lean times due to mediocre harvests, or the time when the kingdom had faced starvation because of Arthur killing a unicorn and she and Gwen had distributed food to the people. It still bewildered him, how much she had changed. When had she changed from the people’s fiercest advocate to their greatest nemesis?

“Her men were zealous in following her orders,” Elyan said. “They spread out, going nearly a league out from Camelot, burning anything edible.” His expression darkened. “They even killed any livestock they found too.”

Arthur winced.

“The good news, however,” Elyan added, “is that they focused on the area closest to Camelot. Many of the outlying areas remained untouched, so the kingdom hasn’t lost its entire crop, or all of its livestock.”

That was good news, true. It meant that they still had resources. He supposed he should be grateful that Morgana, Helios, and Agravaine had been too focused on hunting him and Merlin down like dogs to take the time to fully secure the outer reaches of the kingdom. However, the areas closest to Camelot were also the most fertile and where the majority of the kingdom’s food had been grown. While it was good to have the crops from the outlying regions, it wouldn’t be anywhere near enough to feed the entire kingdom come winter. “What about the grain stores here in the city?” Arthur asked.

It was Leon’s turn to wince. “Unfortunately, the stores were some of the first places that the mercenaries got into. They greatly enjoyed the fruit of our people’s labor,” he said, a hint of bitterness in his tone.

Arthur didn’t blame him. Although Leon had never been close to Morgana, the two had once shared a deep concern for the welfare of Camelot's citizens. It had hit him particularly hard, seeing Morgana’s willingness to target the people when it suited her purposes.

Forcing himself to return to the subject at hand, Arthur leaned back in his chair thoughtfully. “It’s still early enough in the year to replant the crops that were lost,” he pointed out, more to himself than to anyone else.

Merlin looked up from the papers in front of him, where he had been scratching down notes at a furious pace. “We could,” he agreed, “but the growing season will go well past the customary harvest time. If there’s a deep frost before the farmers are able to bring the crops in, then we run the risk of losing much of it.”

“That’s true,” Gwen spoke up. “It’s not a matter of manpower in the field - at harvest, everyone contributes, from the youngest children to the oldest grandfathers - it’s a matter of the food ripening quickly enough before the cold sets in.”

Arthur nodded. They were right, but that still left them with the problem. Without a crop, the people would starve in the winter months. They would have to think of something to prevent that.

Gwen’s voice cut through his thoughts. “Perhaps,” she said, her tone growing a little hesitant, “perhaps we could call upon our allies for help?”

He turned to look at her, surprised at the suggestion. It wasn’t one Arthur had yet considered. Before he could even begin to frame a reply, Merlin voiced his opinion. “It’s a good idea,” he said. “We have all of these treaties with many of the different kingdoms, and they include provisions for the exchange of foodstuffs and other supplies where needed. Why not call that in?”




And let it be known that Camelot is weak? That Morgana actually succeeded in hurting us this time? The questions were on the tip of Arthur’s tongue, and he could almost hear his father’s voice saying them in his head. They were questions his father wouldn’t have failed to ask if his own council had offered up this suggestion.

Arthur swept his gaze over the faces of the rest of those seated at the table. Gaius’ expression was as inscrutable as ever, though he was still paler than normal. His recovery from the captivity Morgana had subjected him was slow, and Arthur knew that Merlin worried constantly for his mentor’s health. Gwaine and Percival didn’t seem to object to the idea, nor did Elyan. Leon, who had lived and served under Arthur’s father, looked a little uncomfortable with it. Perhaps he too was recalling his father’s attitudes toward anything that would make Camelot seem less than absolutely perfect and fruitful.

Have you no pride? His father had asked him that once, several years ago when their kingdom stood on the brink of collapse because of Arthur’s own arrogance and stupidity. It wasn’t difficult for Arthur to recall his own response, though.

I cannot think of my pride when our people go hungry. They’re all I can think of.

His father had said that one day Arthur would understand what it took to be King, and now he did understand. His people were in danger of starving, and he had the choice of either asking for help from his allies, or taking the risk that they could replace what had been lost before the winter frosts began.

They’re all I can think of.

Finally, Arthur spoke up. “We’ll send out riders to King Olaf, Queen Annis, and Lord Godwyn, asking to trade Camelot metals and gold for a percentage of their foodstuffs.” Technically, he could also ask Mercia and Nemeth for help too, but Bayard was old and left much of the administration of his kingdom to his eldest son, Ban, a man whose attitudes and goals Arthur wasn’t entirely certain about. He wasn’t going to open himself up to the man until he had a better measure of him. As for Nemeth, although Arthur had ceded his claims to Gedref to them as an apology for refusing Princess Mithian’s hand, there was still a chill to their current relations that made him hesitate to try their patience at the present time. Between Olaf, Annis, and Godwyn’s kingdoms, they might be able to gain enough food to supplement whatever Camelot managed to grow and harvest this year and get through the winter. He nodded to Merlin. “Make a note of it. I’ll start drafting the letters this evening.”

Merlin’s dark head bent over his papers, scratching away. “Yes, Sire.”

They moved on to several other subjects, which kept them all occupied for the next two hours. As a result, Arthur was quite relieved then the meeting came to an end. As he stood up, though, Gwaine appeared at his right, giving him a pointed look. “A moment, Princess?” he asked.

Arthur nodded and turned to Merlin, but saw that he was already walking out, his papers gathered in the crook of one arm while Gaius leaned on the other. Their heads were bent together, deep in conversation. Arthur rolled his eyes, but didn’t even bother feeling offended that Merlin had left before receiving any instructions his king might have for him. Merlin did as he wished, just as he always did. Arthur had long grown accustomed to it.

Gwen was still present, standing beside the chair she had vacated, waiting for him as the other knights all filed out. For a moment, Arthur considered sending her out with the others, but then checked himself. He had a good idea of what Gwaine wanted to discuss with him, and while sensitive, there was no reason to exclude Gwen from the conversation.

Nodding to the guards, who reacted immediately and stepped out of the room, closing the doors to the council chamber behind them, Arthur turned back to Gwaine. “What have you found out?”

Gwaine’s customary cheerful insolence was noticeably absent in his posture. Though he leaned against what had been Merlin’s chair with a casual air, his dark eyes were serious. “A little,” he replied. “While Morgana imprisoned the knights and brought some of us out for her own entertainment, she didn’t do the same with the squires or the servants.” There was a flicker of… something in his eyes, but Arthur didn’t question him about it. He knew that Morgana had targeted Gwaine specifically for her ‘entertainment’, and it was only in the last few days that Gwaine had recovered enough to resume working on the training field. If Gwaine resented or even hated Morgana, Arthur could hardly blame him.

“She was also pretty much oblivious to them,” Gwaine continued, unaware of Arthur’s own thoughts. “It seems that Gaheris and Gareth,” he said, referring to his and Leon’s squires, two young brothers, “took it upon themselves to spy on her however they could. They even recruited some of the servants to help them, and apparently they heard something the night before you stormed Camelot.”

“Heard what?” Gwen cut in. “Arthur, what’s this about?”

He glanced at her. “I asked Gwaine to see what he could find out concerning my uncle’s fate. I need to know if he’s still alive to help Morgana cause further trouble.” It was true. For many years, Agravaine had been the lord of the de Bois family holdings, which were extensive enough that they spread over three different kingdoms, including Camelot. Even if Arthur were to confiscate the portion that fell under his jurisdiction, Agravaine would still have the resources of the other two-thirds of his lands, a significant sum, at his disposal. His and Morgana’s.

Gwen’s gaze sharpened at the mention of Agravaine, and she nodded. “I see.”

Arthur turned back to Gwaine, who didn’t even need any prompt to continue. “Helios sent out a search party to find Agravaine and his party when they didn’t return from pursuing you to Ealdor. They overheard Helios giving Morgana the report of what they found.”

“And?”

Gwaine took a deep breath, running his fingers through his hair. “Gaheris said that Helios told her that Agravaine and the others had been killed, all of them, after being pursued into the caves by a dragon.”

Arthur froze. A dragon?! He shook his head. “That’s impossible. My father destroyed the dragons, and the last one died some years ago.”

Gwaine raised an eyebrow. “You’re sure about that?”

“Of course I am,” Arthur snapped. “I’m the one who killed it.” At least, according to Merlin, he was. Dealt it a mortal blow, he’d said. Arthur had taken his word for it, as his memory of that entire encounter was all very fuzzy. Still, it had been an unusual situation. His father had later sent out riders to find the beast’s carcass, but no trace of it was ever discovered.

What if Merlin had been wrong? What if Arthur’s blow with the spear had merely wounded the dragon? What if the Great Dragon was still alive, waiting to strike at Camelot again, especially now that there were no Dragonlords left to command him, with the last one dead?

On the other hand, the Great Dragon’s assault had happened almost three years ago. If the dragon had only been wounded, why had he not attacked again once he had healed? There was nothing to stop him from doing so.

Arthur sighed and rubbed his forehead wearily. This complicated things, to be sure, but he still needed to know the details of what Helios and Morgana had known of Agravaine’s death. “Did they hear anything else?” he asked at last.

Gwaine eyed him for a brief moment and then replied, “Just that Morgana believed that someone called Emrys was responsible, for both commanding a dragon and for killing Agravaine.”

Emrys. Yet again, Arthur was hearing that name. He was almost certain that it belonged to the old sorcerer, the one who had promised to heal his father and had instead presided over his deathbed, or so Arthur had thought. Gaius had denied that the old man had killed his father, but had instead used every power and ability at his disposal to try to save him. “I keep hearing that name,” Arthur murmured.

“Morgana thought that this ‘Emrys’ was protecting you,” Gwen said softly.

Arthur nodded. “I remember.”

“Yeah, well,” Gwaine cut in, straightening, “if it’s true, then he might not be a bad ally to have. Gareth said that Morgana supposedly saw Emrys later, thought he was in the citadel, but Helios and his thugs found no sign of him. It sounds like she was paranoid.”

“That, or mad,” Arthur muttered. Or both.

Gwaine left the chamber soon after, leaving Arthur alone with Gwen. He sighed, sitting back down in his chair. She joined him, retaking her own seat and then reaching out and taking his hand in hers. He squeezed it appreciatively.

“I’m sorry about your uncle,” she said. “I know that he meant a great deal to you.”

He had, Arthur didn’t deny it. Agravaine had been the last of the de Bois family, his mother’s kin. Arthur had been absurdly grateful when his uncle had come to Camelot in the months after Morgana’s first occupation, all smiles and eager to be of service to his inexperienced nephew during his regency. Looking back, Arthur wondered bitterly if Morgana had coached Agravaine on how to behave when he approached him.

Of course, Arthur had to reserve some of the blame for the situation for himself. He’d had an inkling that his uncle might be involved in treasonous activities when Arthur, Merlin, and the knights had been ambushed in the Valley of the Fallen Kings. Agravaine had been his prime suspect for that near-disaster, but Arthur had allowed the older man to distract him with accusations against Gaius. Arthur had caved like a weak-willed boy, even allowing Agravaine to interrogate the physician, as though Arthur knew nothing about rooting out a traitor. When was it ever a good idea to let one suspect question another? Was he truly so desperate to have a family, any family, that he was willing to put those most loyal to him at risk? Arthur had tasted Agravaine’s true motives, but had let him get away just so he could revel in the delusion that his uncle cared for him.

His true motives. Perhaps that was what hurt most of all. Agravaine was his uncle, not Morgana’s. Agravaine was a de Bois, not a member of whatever family Morgana’s mother came from. If he had remained loyal, Agravaine would have been assured a place of honor, wielding a great deal of influence and basking in the love and appreciation of his sister’s son. So why had Agravaine betrayed him? Why had he chosen Morgana over him? It was a question that had been branded into his mind ever since he and Merlin had seen Agravaine step up to Morgana’s side during the invasion, and it was a question that would never be answered.

“I want to know why, Gwen,” he whispered. “Morgana, my father, and now Agravaine. Why?” He’d spoken of this to Merlin, when they had been making the final trek to Ealdor with Tristan and Isolde. Merlin had been so sure that it was no fault of his that Morgana and Agravaine had betrayed him, but Arthur couldn’t share his certainty. It nagged at him constantly, a doubt and fear that never went away.

Gwen had no response for him, indeed he hadn’t expected one, but she stood up and moved around the table. Urging him to sit back, she seated herself in his lap. Arthur’s eyebrows went up and, unbidden, a smile tugged at his lips.

She wrapped her arms around him in a loose embrace and leaned her forehead against his. “Just remember,” she whispered, “there are people here who are loyal to you, who love you.”

It didn’t solve the problem of Agravaine, but her words were a balm nonetheless.



Solstone

Today we arrived at the house of my uncle, Lord Aglovale. As we approached, I saw that he had spared nothing in his welcome, summoning his family, knights, and even his servants to gather outside to greet Vivienne and me.

Lord Aglovale’s wife is Lady Ygrisa, a pretty, fair-haired woman some years his junior. Her two children are Ygraine and Tristan, twins just like Vivienne and me. They are both fair-haired with blue eyes, resembling both their parents equally. Both seem very charming, so I have no doubt that Vivienne’s misery over leaving home will soon dissipate in the face of finding people who are very much like her.

My uncle also has another, older son. If I recall what my mother said correctly, Lord Aglovale was married to another woman before he wed Lady Ygrisa, a woman named Corliss. She died giving birth to his firstborn son, Agravaine. He made for a very strange sight, all dark hair and swarthy skin standing next to a golden-haired father, stepmother, and half-siblings. He must resemble his mother. Unlike his younger brother and sister, Agravaine did not smile, but instead merely bowed solemnly when his father introduced him. He seemed rather sullen.

Vivienne and I have each been provided with our own chambers just across from one another. Solstone, it turns out, is not Aglovale’s main residence, but is rather a place for his family to retreat for some semblance of privacy. Lady Ygrisa informed me that we will all be staying here for a few weeks before traveling to Brieland, some twenty miles away and the ‘capital’ of the de Bois holdings. She said that her lord felt it best that we accustom ourselves to our new situation in the family’s private home, where there the pace of life is slower and not so overwhelming as it is in Brieland.

My new chambers are very nice. They are large, perhaps larger than the nursery that Vivienne and I had shared at home with Asa and Edith. The bed is large too, with a beautiful canopy of sheer blue curtains all around it. There is a small truckle bed as well that can be pulled out from under my bed. That will be for Asa. There is even a small room off of mine for a handmaiden, when the time comes to have one for my very own.

There is a great deal of furniture in my chamber too. A dressing table and mirror (something I’ve never had before because my father felt it an unnecessary expense for little girls, never mind that Vivienne and I are thirteen now), a wardrobe, a secretary, and a large table for hosting a small number of guests for a meal, if I should choose.

I do not know if Tintagel has such fineries. Aglovale must be a powerful and wealthy man indeed, if he provides such great luxuries for his guests.



The rest of Arthur’s day was a busy one, and he didn’t get a chance to think on the letters he had to write to his fellow rulers. By the time that the evening meal had wound down, Arthur honestly wasn’t thinking of much of anything beyond his wife.

He and Gwen walked hand-in-hand through the corridors toward his chambers at a slow, leisurely pace. They stopped at a window along the way, staring out over the town. There were many lights adorning the windows of the various buildings, and Arthur could hear the faint echoes of laughter on the evening air.

The repairs to the city were far from complete, but there was a hint of hope in the air, of satisfaction. People had a roof over their heads, even if some were sharing with the people who had lost their homes in the fires, and a blanket to cover them. For all the hardships they faced, at least they had a place to lay their heads down at night and food to put in their bellies. It gave Arthur hope as well. They could recover from this, he was sure of it.

He looked down at Gwen, who was also staring out at the town. Arthur had had a taste of what life was like without her, and it wasn’t something he wanted to sample again. After watching Tristan endure Isolde’s loss, Arthur had known that he would never be able to let Gwen go again. Clinging to his hurt feelings over her actions with Lancelot suddenly seemed pointless.

She had made a mistake, but what person in the world hadn’t?

She seemed to sense his gaze on her, because she looked up at him quizzically. “What is it?” she asked him.

Arthur smiled faintly and shook his head. “Nothing,” he murmured. Leaning down, he pressed a kiss to the side of her head. “I love you,” he whispered against her dark curls.

Gwen’s lips morphed into a smile of her own. Reaching up, she stroked his cheek. “And I you,” she replied.

They continued their trek to Arthur’s chambers, which Gwen now shared with him more often than not, arm-in-arm. Once inside, Arthur shut the door behind them and they both leaned against it. They hadn’t passed anyone in the corridors, not even any of the servants, but still, the door was shut and they were alone. Being alone had always been such a rare commodity for them before their marriage. More often than not, Merlin had been nearby, or Agravaine, or Gaius, or anyone really. The door to whatever room they were in was left open, for the sake of propriety.

Now there was no need for that. Camelot’s king and queen could be alone as much as they wish. It was something he and Gwen were still trying to become accustomed to.

As though she had read his mind, Gwen smiled and leaned up to brush a kiss across his lips. It was light, like the touch of a butterfly’s wings, if Arthur had been given to thinking such fanciful things, and he reveled in it, and in her company. He -

“Ahem.” The sound of someone clearing their throat suddenly penetrated the bubble of privacy he and Gwen had established in the room. He felt Gwen jerk in shock and knew that she too had heard it.

Arthur growled in frustration. There was only one person who would be in his chambers this late in the day. No one else would have dared. “Merlin…” Reluctantly, Arthur stepped away from Gwen and turned to face the other man.

Merlin’s cheeks were stained a faint pink, and he was purposely looking anywhere but him or Gwen. “I, uh, I was working on, um,” he stumbled over his words.

“Spit. It. Out.” Arthur ground out through gritted teeth, his eyes straying toward Gwen, who had moved to stand beside him. Her hands ran over her hair nervously, even though it was still perfectly in place. Her expression was a study in embarrassment, even though they hadn’t been doing anything even remotely scandalous.

“On the letters,” Merlin blurted out, reclaiming Arthur’s attention. “I was working on a draft for the letters you were going to send, the ones about the foodstuffs!” It was pathetic, how relieved he sounded.

Arthur gave him a pointed glare. “Fine,” he conceded. “Leave it. We’ll go over it in the morning. After breakfast,” he added with some emphasis. The last thing he wanted was Merlin showing up at the crack of dawn, full of advice about letters while Arthur was in bed with his wife. “Now, get out.”

Thankfully, Merlin didn’t seem inclined to argue with him, for once. His face was still flushed, and he kept his eyes lowered as he slipped past him and Gwen and out the door, leaving them alone.

“Idiot,” Arthur muttered. “He needs a hobby.”

Gwen chuckled, leaning her forehead against his shoulder. “I think this is his hobby, Arthur. He’s taken to being your scribe quite enthusiastically, much more so than he ever did his duties as a manservant.” She straightened, staring at him with amusement in her dark eyes. “Merlin is quite the politician, it seems.”

Arthur rolled his eyes. “He should get himself a girl,” he maintained. “I’m surprised Gwaine hasn’t tried to distract him with one of the barmaids, since he drags him to the taverns so often.”

Smiling, Gwen shrugged and took his hands, leading him further into the chambers. “I’m sure Gwaine will take that as a personal crusade if you tell him so,” she teased.

Arthur chuckled and took that moment to steal a small kiss from her before they separated to prepare for bed.



Solstone

It seems that the de Bois’ maintain closer ties to one another than I expected. At home, my sister and I spent much of our time in the care of our nurses and a tutor, learning what was expected of girls of our station. Perhaps once or twice a week, Vivienne and I would be dressed in our finest clothes and taken to visit our parents. Sometimes, we would join them for a meal, where our mother would speak to us on what we were being taught. Father never seemed to say much, though if we brought examples of our needlework, he would examine them and compliment our work if it was good, and scold us for any mistakes. I was always amazed that he could spot errors in the patterns, since men don’t generally learn needlework. Other than instances like that, however, we did not interact with our parents much.

At Solstone, it is different. The de Bois’ take at least one meal a day together, the morning one, but often they even take the evening meal together as well. They all seem to be very much involved in each other’s lives. Aglovale knows just as much about his daughter’s education in household management as he does in his sons’ in weapons’ mastery. They speak extensively to one another, not just having the children sit quietly and speaking only when spoken to. It was very startling, at first. Vivienne, though, has grown used to such behavior, and has no problem enthralling Ygraine with stories of Cornwall.

As for me, I remained quiet, preferring to observe a bit more, but the de Bois’ had no intention of letting me keep the sole company of my own thoughts. It was my uncle who began to speak to me after a while, asking me how I liked Solstone, if my chambers had proved satisfactory, and other such things. I answered politely, stating that Solstone was quite lovely and my chambers very comfortable. He kept speaking to me, and even Tristan and Agravaine joined in, and before I knew what I was about, I was enthusiastically discussing horses with the men.

Perhaps this closer relationship that the de Bois’ seem intent on drawing Vivienne and I into is not so terrible.



Part Two