Love Woven Through Two Territories
*Made by hope27*
Title: Love Woven Through Two Territories
Themes and/or Prompt/s Children, Capture {this prompt to be used much more later}, Fairytale
Rating: PG13, may border on R later
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen and also Merlin, Percival, Ygraine, Agravaine, Leon, OC, and some others to come
Spoilers/Warnings: Tragedy and some Violence to come//also mature situations to come
Disclaimer: I disclaim/Merlin belongs to BBC/Shine.
Summary: A kingdom in danger of attack, another in danger of a reckless future, a marriage of beneficial arrangement is set up. But then amid tragedy and tests of will, something amazing happens, before the cruelest trial. A question. Which is worth more? A kingdom? Or a solitary life? When a devious plot is conjured up, and she is captured, he must choose between territory/its rule, and love.
Author’s notes: This is a medieval AU story that I wrote for ag_fics long challenge. A WIP, it actually won first place. Thank you so much for anyone who voted for it and/or responded. You’re very kind and I’m glad you’re enjoying this. This is the first part of the story (edited and parts added since the competition). Future parts will go through the same edits.
Art Note: The beautiful art (click on it to see full size) above is made by the very talented hope27. Her lovely artwork was such great inspiration to this story and it won first place too! Congrats hope27 and thank you!
Banner Note: My beautiful banner (click on it to see full size) below for the competition was made by the wondefully talented ella_rose88. Thanks M!
***
Love Woven Through Two Territories
*Made by ella_rose88*
Part One: Meetings of Fate
“You bring me news?” King Bayard, a husky bearded man of long tawny brown hair asked of his visitor who was mostly shrouded from sight within a vast black cloak. But for the two of them, the room atop the castle’s highest floor was empty. It was how their meetings were always conducted, in private.
“Yes. It is done.”
King Bayard, the full physicality of the shrouded figure hidden even from him, looked pleased. “Perfect. And no one will be the wiser?”
“Not at all. This last part should start taking effect gradually. Even the physician will think it’s nature’s course.”
That delighted King Bayard. How his thick grabbing hands wanted to keep scooping them up, falling kingdoms.
The cloaked figure watched him with cold calculation. King Bayard was one of those divide and conquer types, a man ruled by his sword instead of his brain. But then King Bayard had little of any intellect.
Which was fine. It served to keep up the masquerade of it all. King Bayard provided the ammunition, allowing the opening to each intricate place of hiding, and so the riches ensued. The cloaked figure had collected four now. It was said the fifth was in a particular area where snatching it would not be without issue. There was something very peculiar about that location that the cloaked figure had yet to fully understand, but for now Bayard still needed to be tolerated.
“The alliance has begun, a bond of marriage. In return she will ensure their kingdom is guarded.”
“WHAT? How could you allow this?”
“Temper yourself please your Majesty. Why do you think it was so important to get within? Her son is reckless. He will fail.”
Still, the king pouted. “It was not easy to get rid of his father. And it’s been five years now since then that I’ve been patient. You should know that patience has limits.”
It was a threat that forced the cloaked figure to restrain their laughter as they counseled the silly king. “Doing away with him was the best choice we could make, but you have to understand, this kingdom is not like the others. It’s the most powerful in Albion.”
Bayard’s greedy hand fisted hard. “Which is why I want it in my clutches! So I can crush it! And the other too!”
“And you will have it. Both of them actually. But in due time. To rush this will ruin everything.”
The king glared like a petulant little boy.
The cloaked figure decided to leave before his temper boiled to the height of aggravation. “Well, I’ve given you my report. Now I must go. Don’t want to raise suspicions.”
“Make sure you get rid of her!”
The cloaked figure turned back around, eyes, the only thing visible through the black shroud, glowing with malice. “Your Liege…the queen is dead already. Nothing but a walking corpse.”
***
One Month Later
***
“I thought you said she was arriving today!”
Swallowing down another goblet of ale, Prince Arthur drunkenly smiled. “So she is, my mother tells me.” Lips wet from the Ale, he started kissing his way down the woman’s neck as they stood within one of the dark hallways of a secluded tavern outside of Camelot. He frequented it often, with friends, and with the woman whose supple bits of revealed constitution he was enjoying. Usually when it came time to depart the shadowy premises, he was filled with laughter and laziness, that of a man who had imbibed beyond sense.
***
The trip through the mountains had been a tiring one for Princess Guinevere, lasted just a little over a week. As she sighed, ready for the riding to be done, her rear sore after just a few short rests, the knight attending to her pointed it out.
“There. Right past that wood. Camelot.”
The princess turned her caliginous eyes upon the land heavily, letting out a long sigh. Sir Percival, the knight escorting her, touched her hand with feeling. “Still thinking of Lancelot?”
The princess, known to friends as simply Gwen, shook her head sadly. It had been a very hard departure for many reasons, including leaving her father, mates, and the man who had professed the depth of his feelings to her just a few short months ago. “He was so angry when I left. Wouldn’t even see me. He believes I wanted this.”
Percival had known Gwen since childhood. She had the kindest heart and didn’t care much about royal platitudes, always wanted honesty from people, and treated everyone with an ounce of humility. Lancelot was his friend too, as all his fellow Knights of Tirmaiur were, Percival nicknamed the ‘gentle roaring bear’ of them because of his impressive size and his soft demeanor that could turn like a spark of fire upon his enemies, thus the ‘roaring’ part. He got why Lancelot was upset, but Gwen meant much to him too and she didn’t deserve the kind of fallout she had received before their departure. He had to surmise she probably wouldn’t have gotten it, at least not so lightning charged, if she had just been more forthcoming.
“Why didn’t you tell him the truth?”
Gwen bit down on her bottom lip, remembering their volatile conversation, and the emotional one that came before with her father. When he had asked it of her she had shocked so much at first, but then realizing how much danger her kingdom could be in if she didn’t agree to this, and most especially her father’s fate, she consented, and allowed Lancelot’s wrath.
“What purpose would it have served? No matter what happens it could be a long time before I return to Tirmaiur, dependent upon my future husband. This will free Lancelot. And my Dad already has enough burdens, not needing to face any anger from one of his knights. With Elyan doing who knows what, and Tirmaiur in such dire need of militia support, whilst said to be one of the kingdoms on the top of Bayard’s list, I had no choice but to agree.”
She faced the gentle bear of a knight more directly now, bringing out a sharp point that chilled her to think of ever happening.
“Percy, Bayard would kill my Dad if he got hold of Tirmaiur, just like he did with the other kings. Brutally. Publically. He’d take his life.”
And that was the most crucial reason why she agreed to this. She couldn’t accept that, not after already losing her mother years ago when she was just a little girl. Tirmaiur needed her dad to live, and so did she.
“Gwen…”
Not one to give into sympathy, raised as a royal who knew that sacrifice was part of her role, Gwen continued, her head held high, bringing out the positive side as she was akin to do. “Queen Ygraine is a good woman. Noble and quietly strong. How bad can her son be?”
***
“Oh it’s the knights! Let’s salute them!”
A sentry of men garbed in gleaming chainmail and hardened armor passed by, a few letting out snickers at the prince’s inebriated state, but most just politely ignoring him as midday commenced, the sun a timid glow in a partially cloudy sky.
“Arthur.” The lady under his arm, her golden blonde hair in slight messy coils after their earlier shenanigans at the tavern where the right sum of gold could earn you a room of covert discretion, protested, as he raised his hand waveringly with salutations.
“All hail the knights of Camelot! Go forth! Take down the enemy!” A dippy grin upon his face, Arthur lifted away his sword from his utility belt with shockingly stark adeptness for someone so inebriated. “Cut down that stuffed man!” He joked, referring to the ‘dummy’ that was sometimes used for training. Then placing the decorated sword back in his belt he started to hysterically giggle.
Most of the knights passed by without comment, honorable to their queen and kingdom, instilled with knight’s code, but one couldn’t help stopping, giving the prince a wry grin.
“Drunk again, huh Arthur?”
The young prince, nineteen years old and some months, shook his head, making his blonde hairs swing wildly. “Noooo…me…drunk? Never. I just had a ‘little’…” He emphasized the word with his fingers. “To drink. That’s all.”
The dark haired knight’s look was skeptical. “Right.”
It was a challenge, something Arthur rarely backed down from. Even after carousing at the tavern with the young noble lady in his attendance, his eyes sparked with interest. The knight knew his dry response would get such reaction. Perhaps that was why he made it, or maybe he just liked getting the other’s rile up. It really didn’t matter now that both were taking out their swords ready to prove their worth.
From his position at the front of the line of knights, Leon barked out, “Gwaine, enough! Get back into line!” He wasn’t at all surprised though when the other simply ignored him. Gwaine was notorious for starting something, a vagrant at times of mischief.
This was not good at all. Peasants were already leaving their launderings and other tasks to watch with interest as they were sure it would be a good fight.
Leon knew that some years ago the prince would certainly have the upper hand. Those were the days when the king was still alive and Arthur never balked his role. Even now still Arthur’s finesse with the sword couldn’t be miscounted. But Gwaine trained more regularly, and of course was not sloshed like the prince was. So there was the possibility that this ‘show’ would display the prince as the loser, and that was not good for Camelot, a kingdom that prided itself on its strong military and distinguished nobility.
“Gwaine!” Leon tried again, but the other was oblivious to his yells, enjoying the mismatched fight with a sly grin upon his face. Leon watched with a tight grimace, roaring at the other knights to get to the training field, which they of course did not quickly yield to, also engrossed in the fight, as Arthur wavered here and there, but kept up a steady counter to all of Gwaine’s blows, parrying back and forth with the kind of precision that could only come from being taught about the sword since birth.
It angered Leon that Gwaine was taking so much advantage now and he’d make sure that he paid for it in training later today, because Arthur wasn’t always like this, binging and carrying on with the kinds of noble ladies who simply liked to carouse and have fun. There was a time he was more soberly minded, all before that awful day.
Leon flinched with remembrance. He was one of the knights that carried the body back, watching the blood soak into his chainmail, feeling it trickling down the bared parts of his arms. It was the blackest day ever in Camelot, the day their king died.
Ah. As much as he kept telling his knights to stop watching and head to the field, he couldn’t help viewing it all too. If the king was alive to see what his son was up to now, he’d throw him in the cells himself no doubt, pour some ice cold water upon his head to get him to sober up, but he’d also have to be impressed by how it didn’t matter that his son was drunk. He still could fight like no one else.
That is until interruption, the roughest roar. It came starkly through now and Leon wished harder than ever he had stopped the fight when it first started.
“WHAT IS GOING ON HERE?”
Gwaine used the interruption to deliver a blow that brought Arthur to his rump in less than dignified fashion, making Leon shake his head as it was all in front of the citizens of Camelot, a display of disgrace that wouldn’t bring any happiness to their already fraught queen.
At least it was finally over, and with him now in attendance, the peasants were already scurrying back to their tasks and the watching knights were making fast headway to the training fields. Leon glared at Gwaine who gave a nonplussed shrug and put his sword away. Down on the ground, Arthur looked up at his uncle, mouth forming into an angry embarrassed pout.
Not able to get up solidly on his own, Leon gave him a hand. Arthur took it, and then moved away rapidly, standing on his own after a bit of wobbliness.
“Uncle.”
“Lord Agravaine.” Gwaine gave a bow.
The man with hair the color of an unkindness of ravens, turned coldly to the knight. “I believe you have better things to be doing Gwaine than taunting my nephew.”
“Yes. Probably.” Gwaine showed little nervousness, but he wasn’t as hair swinging as he had been while ‘fighting’ Arthur. Quickly he moved to Leon’s side and they both headed to the training field, leaving the woman, Lady Elaine, and Arthur with his uncle.
Agravaine grasped Arthur’s arm with the most cordial of smiles as his personally spoken words came out as directive barbs. “You’ve probably already humiliated yourself enough Nephew, falling on the stone like some drunken commoner. Nonetheless in front of such a gathering audience of all your admirers who most notably seemed quite entertained by seeing you land on your ass. So I don’t need to tell you just how awful that little performance was, right?”
Grunting, Arthur thrust his arm away from his uncle’s ‘kind’ grasp. “Gwaine started it.” Really, it was the silliest reaction and even with his drunkenness, which was dulling rapidly with his uncle now in attendance, Arthur knew how stupid it sounded.
“Isn’t your betrothed set to be here within an hour or two?”
Arthur slapped on a fake smile, feeling a headache building from his earlier drinking, and still not so steady on his feet. “Indeed. So I’ll take my leave, Uncle.” He gave the façade of a courteous bow and then grasping the Lady Elaine’s waist, getting her to giggle as his fingers tickled, he rushed with her into the palace.
Agravaine watched with a raise of his eyebrows. Just a bit longer. Then everything would be in order. And he wouldn’t have to deal with this insolent brat anymore.
***
As they came in even closer, Gwen let out a gasp of amazement. At just months shy of twenty years, she’d been to more than a few kingdoms since the time she’d been a young girl, traveling with her parents and even sometimes traveling with just one or two attendants, but Camelot was like none other in eminent vastness.
Past the deepest forests were the glittering blues and silvery whites of the ocean. Closer to the kingdom were winding rivers and a lake surrounded by banks of green woodland. All that before Camelot itself. Much of it actually was farmland, spread out between the sets of tall roofed houses, but beyond them was the castle, a colossal fixture of towers that rose so high they seemed to almost touch the heavenly sky.
“Impressive.” Percival let out a low whistle.
Gwen cleared her throat with intention, just as amazed as him, but quietly sick for the home she loved, and maybe just a bit more nervous about what was to come than she wanted to admit.
“Yes. But it’s not Tirmaiur.” As it wasn’t. Tirmaiur had a much smaller palace that had signs of decay from age since it was one of the oldest kingdoms of Albion. But it also had beautiful little ponds and creeks, distant mysterious caves and surrounding it was a forest of growth so old many of the trees were taller than the virgin ones here that surrounded Camelot.
“Alright, Gwen?”
Fixing her mouth, she thought how silly it was to lament. She agreed to this for Tirmaiur’s survival, something that wouldn’t be possible if Bayard was allowed to invade, forcing their strained army to forfeit. The elderly kingdom was already suffering from a slew of problems. The weather had not been so kind lately, fierce storms just months ago causing structural damage, death, and ruined crops. Bandits too were increasing in the area, those lawless men attacking the outer borders, putting citizens and the guard on high alert. But beyond all that was her Dad, the person she thought of most since leaving Tirmaiur.
“Yes. Let’s just keep going.”
***
Once entering the palace it began, on Elaine’s suggestion, an impromptu game of hide and seek. Since early childhood Arthur had loathed being inside the castle’s chilly interior without a glowing hearth nearby, prone to shivering fits often. It was why he usually was bundled up, this day in a long mahogany shaded coat that fell all the way to his knees. But the game warded off the cold as it meant he often was running or more-so ‘jogging’ from room to room to find his little vixen.
One minute she had been beside him and the next she was gone like a feline of the night. He had to suppose that it was his drunkenness that had allowed his alertness to fade enough for her to vanish so fast. A drunken giggle escaping his mouth now as he made his way down another hall, he tried to not concentrate on what his uncle had reminded him of. He supposed now that it was a little more than an hour before her upcoming arrival. Well until then he wanted to play.
And maybe even after. It was his mother who coerced him into this after all. She probably thought that he would go into this honorably, and he would, to all outsiders, but within, he’d make it beneficial to him. Just because he had to marry some stranger didn’t mean he had to live a life of unhappiness.
As for now, she wasn’t here yet, and Elaine still needed to be found. Letting out a drunken belch, he jogged to the other end of the hallway, nearly running into one of the scullery maids who let out a holler of surprise. He gave her a smirking smile and ran past as she shook her head with unhappiness.
Once again his frivolity meant more work for the servants. On his way to the next hall he had just knocked over a vase of flowers and the water was already spilling messily onto the floor. Oh, that Prince Arthur, the middle aged maid thought angrily, scrambling to clean everything up. He was a charming one, but such a messy one too!
***
Coming to the citadel now Gwen could feel her heart thumping strongly in her chest. It was even grander here, the castle so tall, surrounding them, so encumbering she felt she might be swallowed up by it. Really, it was like nothing she had ever seen, and so novel appearing. Unlike Tirmaiur’s aged palace, the outside of this one, its stone was like it had just been put there, shining in the patch of sun that the sky was allowing out.
As they got closer even still, departing the market area of decorative stands and colorfully dressed merchants, were flashes of red cloaks. The knights were so regally dressed it was like they were out of some fairytale, all perfectly matching, attire like it had just been washed and pressed. She doubted there was a shortage of servants here like in Tirmaiur.
Coming to the inner court Percival announced their arrival, which was mostly about protocol because the watchmen in the towers had already seen them. The guard spoke to them politely. “The queen has been expecting you Sir Percival and Princess Guinevere. She regrets there was not a grand meeting outside, but there’s a chill today and so she thought you’d be more comfortable within the palace. The guard inside will escort you to the throne room now.”
Giving a slight bow of her head, lead by Percival, Gwen entered the palace of Camelot for the first time.
***
“There you are.”
Elaine blushed. “Oh. I got lost and was just mesmerized by the loveliness of your mother’s chambers.”
Arthur latched his arm around her waist. “Probably should get out before she finds you…or me.” Even still slightly inebriated, Arthur was well aware his mother did not take kindly to others entering her room and ‘snooping’ around when she was not there.
Elaine perused the room still, luminescent eyes full of dazzled reaction. “Oh, she has the loveliest pieces. Look at that crown…and those jewels. Wherever did she get them from, those sapphires?”
Arthur shrugged, uncaring. “Don’t know. Come on.” He’d much rather get in some playtime in the privacy of his chambers.
Elaine reached out to touch some of the beautiful jewels, grimacing when Arthur’s hand pulled her away.
“Elaine, come on. My mother wouldn’t want you here.” Sadly it was true that his mother really didn’t care much for Elaine, remarking often that she was just too ‘frivolous’.
Elaine relented, commenting on the alarming sound that had just rung through the palace. “Didn’t you hear it?”
How could he have not while he was searching through the castle’s interior. The double clanging timbre rang so clear they pierced his ears for a moment, making him groan as much with unhappiness as irritated hangover pain.
“Yes. But doesn’t matter.” He grasped her waist with a sly smile, lips puckering to deliver some sloppy wet kisses.
“Arthur.” Elaine’s palm flattened on his chest to get him to listen even as she couldn’t but help giggle at his mouth’s enjoyment of her face. “Those were the bells just moments ago. She’s here. The princess.”
He raised his finger with playful authority. “I know. But you see-
“Oh don’t let me interrupt.”
And that rapidly put an end to it. Letting go of Elaine’s waist and his mouth forming into a flat line of displeasure, Arthur gestured to the startled Elaine that he had ‘told her so.’
Elaine meanwhile blushed red at the queen finding the two of them in her chambers, kissing.
Queen Ygraine was feeling tired after an earlier trip away from the castle, but the upcoming occasion was too important to rest. She turned to the other woman in the room, same age as her son she supposed, nineteen, not pleased to find them together, where she slept nonetheless. “Lady Elaine.”
The young woman curtsied over and over. “Oh Queen Ygraine. Your Majesty. Forgive me for-
Ygraine had no time for this. She put up her hand, speaking with fake politeness. “Lovely for you to visit us…again. But I must speak to my son now, alone. If you don’t mind? I’m sure Sir Gwaine or one of the other knights would be so happy to escort you back home as we have a very important visitor this afternoon.”
The words were cordial, but the tone was curt. Lady Elaine shuffled out of the room. No one noticed the tension that sparked in Arthur at the mention of Gwaine’s name and the suggestion for Lady Elaine to be ‘escorted’, especially not the queen who now turned to her son with piercing inquiry.
“What were you two doing in here?”
Arthur gave a careless shrug, causing Ygraine to let out an exasperated sigh as she realized better not probably to receive the answer. “Oh no matter. Look at you.”
He glanced down at his leather vest and blue tunic, covered by the long coat of course. “Something wrong?”
It was all askew and his face was ripe with too much drinking. It made Ygraine frown so solidly that her peach colored cheekbones pinched with disfavor. He didn’t look ready one bit. “Yes, very. Now…Oh your father would get one of the servants to pour ice cold water over your head.” So disgusted right now the words were out of her mouth before she could take them back.
Arthur shivered for just a moment before letting out dryly, “Well he’s DEAD now Mother so guess that’s not an option. Remember, you buried his corpse underneath the ground.”
“Arthur!”
He turned away, wishing his tongue hadn’t come out so barbed, but also hurt by her equally loose utterance.
Ygraine started to go to him to make up for what she said, but then he was letting out a big hiccup, giving a smirking smile after it was done. “Sorry.”
“Oh.” Ygraine groaned at the breath of intoxication that came from his mouth. Really she had no time for this. A part of her was thinking that maybe she should just go get the ice water herself. There was no time for that though and there were ways her husband had disciplined their son that she could never bring herself to do, not after his untimely death.
Arthur watched her sheepishly, half angry and half tipsy still from all that drinking, feeling her suddenly take hold of his arm. His mother was a small pale complexioned woman, but when determined, was not to be argued with. So he simply relented with a rolling of his eyes. As she ushered him out of her room she stated, “There’s someone I want you to meet.”
Arthur deadpanned. “Right, the Princess-
He stopped. Out in the hallway was a very queer looking man, or boy, maybe the same age as himself, maybe not, with dark short hair, ugly brown laced up boots and the weirdest looking bright red scarf. “I’m not marrying that.”
Frustrated, Ygraine told her son sharply. “This is your new servant. His name is Merlin. He is the son of some old friends of mine so you will treat him with due respect.”
“If he lasts…” Arthur muttered under his breath. Boy was so pale he looked like he might fall over. Ugly, ugly boots.
“Oh you might be surprised, Arthur.” Ygraine responded with knowing. Just last night his umpteenth servant…she lost count a long time ago how many there had been in the past five years…departed the castle in nearly tears after Arthur, thinking his dinner was not warm enough, threw the leftover saucer at him. Well now, it was time to approach the problem in a unique way. She smiled with purpose, giving her son a meaningful glance.
Arthur felt a trickle of trepidation descend his spine. Whenever his mother gave one of those looks it meant she was hiding something.
Merlin too had a bit of a mischievous look now. Arthur squinted with distrust.
“Arthur.” Ygraine spoke with expectation. The prince grunted. He was feeling more like the servant now than the servant himself probably was. Might as well play along then. Anyway, he doubted Merlin would last more than maybe a few hours which would prove for an entertaining evening.
“Well come along Merlin. Do your job. My bed is messed up. You can fix it. And I guess…Mother wants me to wear something else. I have a princess coming. We’re going to get married!”
He skipped down the hallway with mocking happiness causing Ygraine to groan.
***
Following Percival’s lead, Gwen entered the throne room to an array of well-dressed nobles and a sentry of red cloaked knights.
Standing upon the stairs was the honorable Queen Ygraine, a lady of serving meekly at her side, along with a man of dark hair and a sternly smiling expression. On the queen’s other side was a young man wearing a red cloak and a brightly red tunic. Beside him was a sort of oddly dressed servant she surmised, wearing the most spectacular yet frayed red scarf.
She looked back to the man standing to the other side of him, the one she assumed was the prince. Although he was quite handsome, he also seemed to be smirking quite rudely.
It seemed forever to reach the stairs, her legs feeling heavy and her heart still uncomfortably pounding. As she did, the queen stepped down, with hands extended and an open smile.
“Princess Guinevere. Welcome to Camelot.”
Feeling some of her fears vacate at the warmth in the queen’s voice, Gwen answered, “Thank you so much Your Majesty.”
Ygraine shook her head. “We are to be family. Please…not so formal.”
She gestured, signaling for the others to come down too. “This is my elder brother, Agravaine DuBois.” The queen brought her hand over his saying with gratitude, “He is my advisor too. Has been such a fine help since my husband’s untimely death.”
Gwen couldn’t help notice the prince not looking all that impressed with his mother’s description of his uncle.
Agravaine clasped Gwen’s hand with a smile that made his lips curl smoothly. “It is such a pleasure to have you here.”
“The pleasure is mine.” Gwen answered with politeness, feeling a trickle of uneasiness. Snatching a quick glance towards the prince she noticed he too wasn’t smiling for a fraction of a second before he slid in that look of charming again, oblivious to what was going on around him if Gwen wasn’t mistaken.
The queen lifted her hand, getting the prince’s attention now fully.
“And this is Arthur. My son. Arthur, this is Princess Guinevere.”
He scrutinized her for a moment, his expression wavering just a bit as if earlier he had been under the influence, making Gwen curious as also her nerves edged up on her. Then without any forewarning, his hand was finding hers and he was lifting it to his lips, pressing the most discreet kiss upon her skin, as his mouth elicited, “Welcome to Camelot, Princess Guinevere. I’m sure you’ll find it…interesting.”
His voice was filled of saccharine politeness, his eyes were sorely mocking. Gwen disengaged from him as quickly she could without making a scene.
Then clearing her throat, she gestured to the man who had accompanied her. “This is Sir Percival. He’ll be staying for the night if it is alright. The trip was long. He’s a Knight of Tirmaiur and also my friend.”
Gwen noticed Arthur making impolite sounds under his breath. She gave him a frowning look which he returned for a flash before turning away.
Really, he had the manners of a pig. It didn’t matter that his hair glowed like sunlight and his eyes were as soaring blue as that of an ocean. He was acting distastefully.
“Of course he will stay as an honored guest.” Ygraine answered.
Arthur looked around now with focused analysis, asking bluntly, “Don’t you have any others traveling with you? Not even a tending lady? My mother would probably be lost without one.” He jested.
Ygraine’s face displayed displeasure with his abrupt remark. Gwen answered with a touch of embarrassment, “Prince Arthur, my kingdom has had some hardships of late, as I thought you were aware of. Perhaps not. I have done my best to take care of what I can on my own so as not to require an attending lady and such.”
Ygraine replied with reassurance. “Of course. Now that will all be remedied. I already have a serving lady in mind whom will be happy to attend to you and your needs.”
Gwen noticed how Arthur kept quietly watching her, his carefully contained expression not giving away much. To not feel his gaze anymore she turned to the queen, “Thank you…your Majesty.” It was twofold gratitude because the queen’s friendly and responsive demeanor started to assure her that Tirmaiur would be safely guarded.
As drinks were passed and conversation got started, Agravaine momentarily excused himself, entering the queen’s chambers in private for a short moment, and returning before anyone could notice his absence.
Anyone that is but one person.
***
“She’s lovely!” Merlin let out excitedly.
Arthur rolled his eyes as Merlin dressed him for the banquet they’d be having that evening as a celebration of the bonding of their two kingdoms, honoring Princess Guinevere’s arrival. “Then why don’t you marry her?”
“Can’t. I’m not royalty!”
Arthur grunted, wondering where Elaine was and if she would be attending. He had suggested that she and his other friends do so.
Soon enough he stopped focusing on all that though as Merlin was once again doing it. He had been right to be wary when his mother gave him that look in the hallway, right to not trust his new servant who once again was clumsily fussing around the room with enough enthusiasm for a flock of geese. It was just so odd. He tripped over just about everything, but somehow he also moved terribly fast and got everything done with not only the rapidity of a roadrunner, but also with the gleaming smile of a chipmunk.
Arthur had been sure that every little trap he set, like assuring that he had to tend to his bed linens more than once in an hour, complaining about a bath now twice, and even doing his little flying saucer trick would pull at Merlin’s last straw, but nope. The saucer flew right by his head without even nicking at his dark spiky hair, the bed linens were laundered so fast that Arthur literally jumped with shock when Merlin returned with them sparkling clean, and his bathwater took less than mere moments to suddenly be satisfyingly warm. Even that he attempted to complain about, but it was no use after Merlin saw his excited and shocked smile at the sweet rush of heat.
“Whoa!” And there IT happened again. The fireplace independently sparked to life right when he was rubbing his arms, as he was akin to do often, feeling a draft anytime the fireplace lost its flaming luster. “Explain that.”
“What?”
“The fireplace.” Arthur gestured to how high it was burning now, ascending so much it was almost frightening.
Merlin just smiled with that chipmunk grin. “I just stoked it Sire.”
Arthur shook his head, thinking he maybe had way too much to drink that afternoon. His eyes were playing tricks on him.
“Why don’t you like her?” Merlin asked, shocking Arthur as no servant ever talked to him about his life in general. It wasn’t really right to, but in seconds he felt compelled to answer.
“It’s not that I don’t like her. She’s actually…well uniquely lovely…like you said. Just, wears really poor looking clothes for a princess. Elaine dresses better than her.”
“Who’s Elaine?” Merlin asked curiously.
Arthur thought maybe he should remind him that he should be doing his job, not asking questions, but Merlin was doing his job, getting his jacket on now with clumsy quick efficiency, making Arthur’s head feel funny. “She’s the lady I’ve been seeing.”
Merlin cocked his head to the side with a grin. “Well now that’s over.”
“Is it? Don’t be so sure Merlin.”
To that Merlin gave an unhappy glare. Arthur stumbled backward some, feeling like a dragon was getting ready to attack, but that was stupid because dragons no longer existed. They died out years ago and now there were just a handful of mages around who were more tricksters than anything, magic always such a feeble and weak thing.
“You’ll be married to her. You should treat her right. Like I always did with Freya.”
Okay, now Arthur was interested. “Who’s Freya?”
Merlin finished up with his new master’s belt, answering sadly, “Someone I loved.”
“Something happened to her?
“She died.”
He hadn’t expected that. “Oh. I’m sorry.”
“So treat her right.” Merlin told him sharply before going off to fix other things in the room. Arthur said nothing, even though regularly he would yell at his servant for just walking off.
But then as he felt chilled again the fire all of the sudden sparked to life once more.
Merlin’s cheeky smile followed. “Stoked it again.”
Right.
***
“Ready?” Percival offered her his arm as Gwen was suited up, having had a nice warm bath and dressed with the help of her new handmaiden, Mary, now wearing the second of her three gowns she had brought. She feared that it would be much less than what the ladies attending would be wearing tonight, but it would have to do. Having to find her courage a second time this trying day, she smiled up at Percy, taking his offered arm.
Sensing her nervousness, Percival patted her arm as he escorted her through the hallway and down the stairs to where the banquet would be held.
Halfway there, they met up with the queen. Gwen noticed that she had a small glass vial she was pocketing into her cloak.
“Your Majesty.”
Ygraine took her other arm kindly, stunning in a dark red gown that made her hair look like it was golden fire.
“We are to be family now, remember? Call me Ygraine.” The queen insisted.
Gwen shook her head, unable to. Ygraine laughed softly, and told both Gwen and Percival she’d see them again inside the banquet. They’d be announced so wait for the introduction.
Percival rubbed her arm, Gwen’s nervousness back again. He did his best to reassure with a comforting smile that a happy nurturing bear would give. “It’ll be fine.”
Gwen wasn’t so sure.
***
Elaine was just a few tables down with the rest of his noble friends, most from neighboring kingdoms, Arthur noted before the princess’s introduction. He wished he could sit with them instead of having his mother on one side and soon the princess on the other.
As Princess Guinevere was announced he could hear snickers from his friends’ table. Once again she was sorely underdressed, wearing a pale blue gown. Merlin was indeed right. The princess was lovely, quite naturally.
But the dress did her little justice, really was quite poor for Camelot’s fine tastes. When she came to sit with him, his uncle and mother, he gave her a cordial greeting that lacked luster, getting a discreetly placed sour look in return. It offset him a bit just like Merlin kept making him feel not on balance. He was used to women being so gaga over him that they always giggled and gave smiles that were like the thickest lumps of sugar. Here, he was actually being reproached. It didn’t exactly make him happy, but it did raise his notice of her.
After dinner came the expected dance. Merlin gave him a toothy smile of expectance and happiness. Arthur looked away from it with a glare. Then taking Guinevere’s hand, they entered the circle of dancers. He knew what was expected, had been through the routine enough times to understand how dance at a gathering was conducted. Interestingly enough too it seemed the princess did also. Maybe she dressed poorly, but her style of dance was quite engaging, experienced.
Passing hand to hand with her and the others, he noticed Elaine and his friends coming into the fray soon enough. Nothing wrong with that he thought as the minstrels played on. He noticed too how Elaine and her girlfriend kept giving the princess’s dress cursory looks, before letting out little titters. Then his male mates would chuckle under their breaths. The princess, although put off by it, did no more than keep her chin up.
***
Gwen stepped out from the banquet, needing to feel the air of nature. The first dance had actually been quite alluring. Her intended had been obviously schooled in festive dance and was quite an engaging partner, that is until his friends joined the fray. Then the attention he had been giving her suddenly faded and with all their snickers she began to feel like some ridiculous joke.
“Hey.” Someone else stepped onto the balcony with her.
Gwen turned to the knight, letting out a brave smile before she launched into his arms, the day already too long, and the banquet one she was enjoying little of. It made her feel sorely homesick once again.
Percival held her protectively. “Gwen. Come on.”
She looked up to his worried eyes, attempting a brave smile so his concern would depart, but it couldn’t last very long. She had never felt so out of place in her life. And once Percival was gone, it would probably only feel worse. “I’m fine. I just…I…didn’t know it would be like this.”
Percival turned his back with definitiveness. “That’s it. I’m telling the queen-
Gwen cut him off as the queen was the one person she counted fully as an ally. She didn’t want to start anything that might hinder that or interfere with the safekeeping of Tirmaiur. “No. They’re petty. Don’t bother the queen with such. She will think little of me. I’m really fine. I just needed some air. I started to feel kind of shut in there.”
Percival looked skeptical so Gwen rounded her hand over his shoulder, having to stand up higher to reach fully for Percival was so tall. “I’m fine I’ll be in within a moment.”
“Alright.” He left her at that finally.
Gwen let out a deep breath after his departure. It was going to be a long night…and maybe even a long union. A lonely one.
***
Finding him with his friends, Percival spoke through their laughter. “Can I have a moment with you Sire?”
Arthur turned around at that big bear that Guinevere called her friend. Not a single knight of Camelot was as big as this man. He nodded. “Sure.”
“Outside. Would that be alright Sire?” Percival asked politely.
Arthur shrugged and followed him out the doors that were opposite of where Gwen was standing.
***
“Hello!”
So distraught she didn’t even hear him at first, but then once again the cheery greeting rang out behind her. Gwen turned this time, seeing Arthur’s brightly dressed servant standing there. His smile was as wide as the moon’s crest this night. She found herself instantly reacting to it.
“Oh Hello. You’re Merlin, yes?” The queen had introduced them earlier, a woman who firmly believed the help were as special as any noble in the kingdom, something Gwen and her father too believed.
“Yeah. Merlin.” He brought out his thin scarecrow shaped hand, shaking hers happily.
“I’m Gwen.” She told him warmly.
“Sorry.” Merlin fussed nervously now, bringing his hand away. “I just saw you out here. Didn’t mean to disturb you. Just wanted to say hello, Princess.”
She shook her head. “Just Gwen is fine. Really.”
And that moon crest grin came back.
***
As soon as they were outside Arthur suddenly found his back against the balcony uncomfortably. He noticed with a bit of wariness how Percival had easily taken the other side that led back to the banquet with rapid control.
“So, you wanted to speak to me?” He kept his voice nonplussed even as he couldn’t help but notice the bulge of muscle coming through Percival’s tightly worn black tunic.
Percival nodded, giving a slight bow. “Yes Sire. You see Prince Arthur, I realize that your kingdom is much bigger than mine, much richer than mine, and much less in need of this bond than mine is. But you see too Prince Arthur, Gwen’s heart is bigger than all of that.”
Arthur squinted with question. “Gwen?”
“Princess Guinevere.”
“Ah. Should have known. You’re mad because of what went on in there.”
“Do you even know where she is?”
Arthur shrugged indifferently. “Should I?”
“Ah…Sire.” Percival let out before he grabbed Arthur’s arm so hard the prince let out a gasp. “Yes. You should. If you’re going to be her husband. Now I know we owe you much. But I am telling you…best not to hurt her.”
Arthur sighed, finding himself asking automatically, “Is she alright?”
Percival lessened the hold on his arm some with that question. “She will be. If your friends think they can break her in one night, they’re in for a rude awakening. Wait for her to astound you. She’s much more than she may first seem. She’s *cherished* in Tirmaiur. Just remember that.”
Percival then straightened out Arthur’s attire, giving a polite smile. “Such a wonderful banquet. Thank you for your time Prince Arthur.”
“Sure…er…I guess.”
Percival left him with that.
Arthur held onto the balcony, thoughtful, before he reentered the banquet hall.
Gwen was going back to the table when she heard another low muttered snicker, carefully done to not reach the queen’s ears, directed pointedly at her. Merlin grimaced hard at her side, his fingers flexing with anger. She feared he might actually do something when she felt warm pressure from behind, an arm linking with hers and a voice stating quietly without question, “That’s enough. From all of you.”
Gwen looked up, seeing Arthur’s eyes on his friends with reproach. He looked angry, troubled. She pressed her palm against his wrist, smiled a little and whispered, “Thank you.”
His eyes came down to hers, softening just a touch as he whispered back. “No need for it. We’re to be married after all.”
From afar Percival smiled with approval.
Merlin grinned. He knew her loveliness would start getting to him.
Ygraine too noticed, feeling a touch of relief in her heart, and a weight of concern slightly lifted.
But not all were happy about the shared look between the young prince and princess. Plenty glared actually. Especially one, one with glowing eyes of malice.
One who had secretly taken the queen’s vial and altered the ingredients.
***
To continue…