Love Woven Through Two Territories
*Made by hope27*
Title: Love Woven Through Two Territories
Rating: PG13, may border on R later
Art: beautiful inspiration artwork: hope27 // beautiful award banner: ella_rose88
Author's Note Story liner notes with first part// Note that the story is moving slower than it originally did because I'm filling in the gaps that I felt were left open too much when I first posted this. As much as I enjoyed writing the original, I felt there were holes in my rush to get it up {I'm almost always rushing when I do challenge fic, lol}. Here I get to patch them up. Thank you so much for all your inspiring reviews.
***
Love Woven Through Two Territories
*Made by ella_rose88*
Part Three: Disturbance of Infidelities
Late afternoon, Gwen stood at river’s shallowest end, ruby red dress highlighted by the last strong patches of sun. Lifting one foot after another, she crossed the stones peeking through the river’s gentle flow. Flowing twistingly through the eastern section of Camelot, the river deposited into the great ocean that protectively bordered a significant portion of the castle, and could be divided into three points of interest.
Couples preferred half a mile past where it met the ocean, the flow fiercest there, but easy to cross using a caringly constructed cobble stone bridge. Loving pairs stopped at bridge’s middle to gaze down upon the furrows of icy blue water. Sharing a kiss, their affections were easily muted by the river’s roar. Next, a lovely picnic upon the grassy golden banks sprinkled with rainbows of flowers.
The river’s middle section was slowed down a bit, but filled with mini towers of rocks for the adventurous to navigate through.
Lastly was this, Gwen’s most favored section where the river flowed much more softly, but the environment that contained it wasn’t all that hospitable. Yet Gwen didn’t mind the dry grasses not cushioning so well, or that to come here she had to weave a careful path through the prickling bushes before sitting down. Tall trees reached out to the skies above too, reminding her of home, the forest here ancient and filled with history. Finally, the wildflowers grew without restraint, unique and lovely for picking.
Sitting down, able to find a patch of grass to relax upon, unbothered by its dryness, Gwen reflected in the peaceful silence, albeit for the trickles of nature’s sound, the water rippling and the branches fluttering in the wind.
Another kingdom had been taken by Bayard; that jarred her heart and was reason why she acted so vulnerably with Arthur hours ago. But the queen confirmed his reassurances, taking a moment’s reprieve from the council meeting to tell her that everything was fine. The queen had splendid news too. A parcel had come earlier by homing pigeon that she gave to Gwen, sent from Tirmaiur.
Now Gwen carefully opened the tanned envelope, taking out some folded parchment paper and a few trinkets that made her titter in delight. It was correspondence from her best friend in Tirmaiur, Freya. She was a talented singer by nature, although shy when not performing. However her sense of adventure was keen. Thus they balanced each other out well, combining social confidence and daring spirit.
The curving words on the parchment displayed strongly Freya’s artistic sense, ramblings about Percival bringing on Gwen’s knowing smile. Freya had been eyeing him since she was a young girl and he was a boy training to be a knight. Together, she and Freya would spy upon knighting practice for fun. Later, Percival, after catching their sneakiness, nicknamed them ‘Tirmaiur’s trailing twosome’. Although they didn’t entirely agree with the nickname, Freya and Gwen both liked that it inferred they were fantastic sleuths for finding a mystery’s answer.
Well now it seemed Freya and Percival were starting a courtship, which delighted Gwen because she loved them both so much.
Continuing on with the letter, she was further reassured that with the cooperative effort of Camelot’s knights working in tandem with Tirmaiur’s, bandit attacks had gone down, leaving her father with more peace of mind.
Finally, Freya had written another song of lovely poetic words.
Done reading, Gwen grasped the letter to her heart, whispering, “Freya, you letter was just what I needed. Thank you fellow snooper.”
Opening her eyes, she laughed a little and held the trinkets with a mischievous smile. One was a glass for magnifying, the other a cloth for wiping fingerprints, and the third was a gaudy looking necklace for distracting when caught red handed. They were all good humored and perfect mood changers. Holding them in hand, Gwen got a determined look upon her face.
Being married to Arthur was a puzzle. He told her that he wanted their marriage to not mean anything and yet sometimes how he looked at her, how his voice gently whispered thank you every time she stoked the fire, there seemed possibility of more, which teased at her desires. She left Tirmaiur and Lancelot, putting her past life into a pocket that she still did not want to allow the fingers of her heart back into.
Camelot was her second home now and with or without Arthur she was determined to make it a good fit.
Maybe even sleuth for any hidden mysteries.
***
Late afternoon, the tavern at the edge of Camelot was half filled, including his mates and himself. Before his father’s untimely death, Arthur often visited the allied kingdoms with the king and sometimes alone. Whilst doing so, he met Geroff, a prince, Selvin, a knight, and Aldous, son of a duke. They were all friendly sorts, enjoyed adventure, and like him, sometimes neglected their duties. It was the perks of nobility, right?
There was nothing wrong in drinking with his mates, he tried to convince himself. Drifting in and out from the rousing conversation, he focused in on his surroundings. A middle aged woman, bosom heaving within a peasant smock was handing out tankards, while the meaty armed bartender yelled out to anyone who got too rowdy. In front of him, in between the boisterous conversation, the tankards of ale were slapped down by his friends, the dark liquid playing at the edges of its metal keepers and splattering over the counter, something which the woman serving them seemed dryly unhappy about. More for her to clean up.
Arthur found his focus strongly come back to the talk as it took an interesting turn, the topic his wife.
“I’ve heard she’s looking much better now that your mother put her into some of her finest imported frocks.” Selvin threw in.
“Yeah, so how’s that going Arthur?” Geroff lifted up his ale with a twist of his fingers, giving a cheeky grin.
They sometimes teased about Elaine too, but she was part of their inner circle. Guinevere was different, and so Arthur wasn’t sure he liked hearing his friends talk about her as he thought some more on Elaine too. Since the wedding he had only met with her a few times during the daylight hours, engaging in nothing more than kisses.
It wasn’t unheard of for a man to carry on a liaison with another while married, but Arthur got the strong feeling Guinevere would not approve.
“Arthur, out on the hunt?” Aldous ribbed teasingly. Before Arthur could reply, Geroff was commenting.
“I’d say if you weren’t married to her I’d be charming her now. Saw your wife at the edge of town yesterday and Selvin’s right. She may be small, but shapes a dress well.”
“Well I am married to her.” Arthur snapped back reflexively. “So back off some.”
“A jest Arthur, a jest.” Geroff lifted his hands in innocent amusement. Arthur looked away from him, lips pouting. The topic of tension ended there. Changing it to hunting and other sorts of fun they liked to engage in the men were soon laughing and grinning.
Arthur walked out of the tavern in a jovial mood, soon noticed by a swaying knight.
“Prince Arthur. Frequenting the taverns again.”
He turned around, smirking. “And you too, no doubt, Gwaine. Lurching and teetering about.”
The other laughed at that, showing no offense taken as he slapped a hand down messily upon Arthur’s shoulder. “So I was thinking we could continue our little duel that your uncle so untimely interrupted.”
“Why bother? Would just knock you off your boastful arse.”
“You know your wife’s a pretty one. She likes to watch us when you’re not there. I’m thinking she likes to watch me the most.” Gwaine smiled incitingly.
Arthur’s blue eyes narrowed. “First you want a rematch and then you think to go after my wife? Ah, Gwaine, looking desperate there.”
“She smiles at me quite a bit.”
Arthur fought to keep his cool for a moment.
Gwaine and he had been like this from boyhood, going at each other without much rancor. It was getting more tempestuous though. Sometimes during knight training Arthur had to roar to keep him in line, and increasingly the others also. It seemed lately that only when his mother was there everyone was on their best behavior.
His top lip closed over his bottom one with annoyance. Gwaine was just pitching at him because he knew it worked. Well one thing Arthur had learnt well from his father was how to keep his emotions in check when needed, or wanted.
Taking a few deliberate lazy steps forward, he pressed his hand upon Gwaine’s shoulder. “Does she? Smile at you quite a bit, you say? Well not surprised there because Guinevere would smile for a row of cute thumping rabbits, nevertheless a scruffy looking sort like you. My wife likes to be cordial. Which I should know because she and I are married.”
He left it with that. No doubt Gwaine was probably still grinning, but as Arthur strutted confidently away he was feeling a bit more himself than he had in a long while.
***
The eventfulness of the day continued into the evening hours. Because his mother was still in council it was left to Arthur and Guinevere to entertain a visiting duchess from Mercia. While Arthur had to fight to not let out a bothered sigh, he noticed how Guinevere was animated and entirely polite. To him the duchess’s never ending chatter was full of meaningless drivel about things like how the noble ladies were forming into some type of choral group. Yet Guinevere held steady and smiled at all the right times.
After that the two of them got into a long detailed conversation about favorite choral pieces, and Guinevere shared with the duchess the song her best friend had written, the lyrics in a letter.
*
Finally it was over. The duchess excused herself for the night. Merlin and Mary hurried into the dining room to tidy things up and his wife gathered up her letter. Arthur took in the regal dress of dark Pendragon red she was wearing, and how it made her cheeks glow underneath a hairstyle of curled coils. As she folded the parchment back into the envelope, she gave him no reaction, turning away to leave. Arthur caught her arm with his fingers, slowly turning her around.
She looked upon his hand with what seemed disapproval, and so he let it fall back down, gesturing to the letter. “You said that came from your friend, er, Draya?”
She corrected him patiently like one would do with a child.
“Freya.”
“Oh. Mistaken there. Freya, yes.”
Gwen smiled slightly before turning away, clasping the envelope closed.
“So she sings?” Arthur asked, bringing his boot down on one of the chairs so as to get his wife’s attention. Merlin, fussing at the table’s dining ware, gave him a look that Arthur stubbornly did not return, and Mary let out a cough as she picked up the last of the dishes, before both returned to the kitchens.
Gwen was smiling down at the letter. A furrow gathering at his brow, Arthur touched her shoulder to reclaim her attention.
“What is it?” She asked.
Lowering his boot from the chair, Arthur walked a step and placed his hand on his wife’s waist. She wasn’t all that tall so easily he was able to bring his shoulder against her back. He glanced downward, a rapid less than discreet moment, noticing how nicely her curvaceous form filled a dress. “I asked if she sings.”
First he grasped her arm, then her shoulder, and now she could feel the warm pressure of his fingers curved over her waist. And his eyes. It was like they were buzzing with inquiry. But that was preposterous. As of countering that thought, his eyebrows piqued, questioning even more impatiently. Sometimes he indeed resembled a petulant little boy. Gwen’s lips curved a fraction. “Oh yes. She sings.”
“You never told me.”
She took a step away from him, dry laughter eliciting from her mouth. “I just got the letter today Arthur. I didn’t know you’d be so interested. After all our marriage is only for show. Isn’t that what you said my husband?”
Arthur’s bottom lip pouted out as he cleared his throat. “Fine. You’re right.”
He started the walk down the hall and up the stairs. Gwen watched his back with curiosity.
*
Once in their chambers, Arthur complained about the dreadful Duchess of Mercia.
Gwen was standing behind the changing screen, getting out of her clothes while he waited. There was supposed to be a pair of them, one for each, but Merlin had some kind of mishap with his, and the guest rooms were currently all in use with the duchess’s visit. The woman brought an entourage suitable for five kings. His last resort was of course to just change without the screen, but Arthur was in no hurry and Guinevere wasn’t one of those kinds of women who took too long.
Grabbing a golden embroidered pillow off their bed, he pressed it against his chest with a long sigh. “Well at least we got that over with. The Duchess was as dull as a snail.”
Removing her shoes and stockings, Gwen gave disagreement from behind the screen. “She wasn’t that awful. Once I was able to engage her in conversation I thought she was quite nice. It would have been more helpful of course if you had tried talking to her some too.”
Arthur dropped the pillow to the bed. “What? And interrupt? You two were getting along so splendidly.”
Gwen couldn’t help smile at the dryness of that comment, but then she noticed it. Oh, the hooks; she couldn’t reach them.
Arthur’s brow wrinkled as he heard his wife, grunting and groaning, to which he couldn’t help but make a shady remark. “Well, I guess you don’t require your husband for er…marriage business.”
Peering out the side of the changing screen, Gwen gave as good as him. “Haven’t yet anyway since I’m just a charade.”
Arthur rolled his eyes. “We’ve been through that.”
She was frowning almost as if in pain. He was able to catch sight of her arm straining backward. “What’s the matter?”
“Oh I already excused Mary and I’m struggling with these clasps and hooks. They reach far too low.”
Arthur gave a teasing look. “Merlin’s handy with clothes. I’ll get him.”
Gwen’s eyes widened and he laughed. “Come on out here. What’s a husband for if he can’t help his wife with her attire?”
Her face scrunched up with doubt. “It reaches very low, I tell you. It’s one of the gowns your mother had sent for me.”
Arthur flashed the thick silver band on his finger. “See. Gives me the right.”
Her look grew even more skeptical so he became commanding. “Guinevere you come out from that screen or I’ll just walk behind it too.”
That shocked her. He rarely asserted himself so strongly. “Don’t order me.”
“Then come…out.” He emphasized the last word potently.
Holding to the back of the dark red dress, Gwen finally presented him with her back.
Arthur noticed that about half the hooks were already undone. He just needed to settle on the last half. Bringing his fingers to the clasps, he started to unfasten each one, hearing her let out fierce complaint.
“Arthur, your fingers! Like ice!”
He gave a sheepish look. “Sorry.”
Gwen turned around to face him, gathering his hands within hers, blowing with her mouth.
Warm air brushed over him. Arthur inhaled with surprise. She kept it up until he was no longer so cold. Then she presented her back to him again without a word. He undid another hook, his hand flattening over an exposed part of her back for a moment to test, whispering over her shoulder to be certain, “Better?”
Gwen caught their images in the mirror. He was so close. “Yes.”
“Good. Wouldn’t want to turn you as frigid as I am sometimes.” He kept releasing the hooks, revealing more of her sun polished skin. He licked his lips reflexively. She was right. The hooks did reach very low.
Gwen lifted her head, watching him in the mirror, his broad shoulders flexing with the activity of his hands. Just enough to make her look away, gaze at the brightly burning fire instead. “What I was saying about the duchess before, I meant it. You could have joined the interactions more. Like with the citizens. Why don’t you make the rounds? See to the people?”
He had reached the place where her back curved inward to the beginning of her hips. Just two more to go. And she was asking him political questions. He shook his head wryly. “I do. You just never see me. Like you didn’t catch me earlier today, training with the knights.
Done.” He added. And the dress suddenly gave way.
Gwen yelped, but Arthur caught at the sleeves, pressing them tighter against her arms. “I got it. Although nothing for you to be embarrassed about. You’re lovely.”
Gwen turned back to him, holding the dress against her breasts. “Really?” She asked wonderingly.
He looked her up and down, before settling on her eyes that reminded him of the dark of night, mysterious, alluring. “Yes.”
Then Arthur coughed, stating, “Let’s go to bed.”
*
It was maybe hours later that she felt a shift of the mattress. She watched as he sat up, pulled on another tunic over the white frail one he slept in. “Are you going somewhere?”
Arthur tensed at the sound of her voice, not looking back. “I thought you were sleeping.”
“I was until I felt movement.”
He turned around now slowly. This entire day had been like the sum of a week, with so many peculiar things happening and feelings in a wild cacophony of disorder. Now, with her awake, he needed to come to the uneasy decision of either telling her the truth or lying. Neither prospect felt right. Guinevere was not a woman he had wanted to marry, but she had unique beauty, was incredibly kind, and he felt himself caring for her a little more each day.
So why couldn’t this just be outside all that? Why couldn’t the continuance of his life as it was before she came just keep flowing with ease? Why were her eyes so big and questioning him so fully right now, her irises glowing like amber from the firelight?
“I’m just going out for a bit. Get some air. Feel stifled in here sometimes.”
“Because of me?” Gwen asked, the blanket lifted up against her breast.
He stared at her for a moment before briskly shaking his head. “No. Not you. I’ve always felt this way inside the castle. Especially after my father died.”
“How did he die?” She suddenly asked, her fingers coming over his arm.
Warm. So warm were her fingers. Arthur pulled back a little still the same, feeling her hand fall away. “Battle. He died honorably.”
Gwen nodded, telling him. “Same as my mother.”
“Huh?”
She filled in. “I know she was a woman, but when Tirmaiur was attacked and I was just a girl at the time, my mother fought right alongside my father. Refused to back down. And so she was…struck.”
“She must have been brave.”
Gwen smiled with remembrance, before relating the subject to him. “Very. Your father, don’t you think even after his demise he would still want you to tend to your knightly duties?”
“What do you mean?”
Gwen sat up some on the bed, letting the blanket fall away, feeling concealed enough in her nightdress, in the darkness, and comfortable enough with him. Although Arthur could tease in ways that would bring on a blush, he had never touched her indecently, refraining from such action, like he did with his duty. Maybe not all positive attributes.
“I’ve been out there more than a few times. I like to watch the men train. I did too when I lived in Tirmaiur. And Arthur, yes you were there today, but because of an emergency. Other than that, you’re rarely there. It’s mostly Leon taking over as head knight. But it’s your duty. By not rising to it you’re shaming your father, don’t you think?”
This. This was what she did that irked and made him feel uncomfortable. She was his wife, forced into it as much as he was. Why did any of this bother her? Why did she keep nudging him irritably on it making his look turn cold now? “I don’t see how that’s any of your business Guinevere.”
It was such a selfish answer. She rose up even more, her breasts heaving with disgruntlement against her nightgown as she strongly dissented. “Of course it is! I am princess of this land. You will be king one day. My brother was prince too, but he chose to leave Tirmaiur. And I am so ashamed of him.”
“So you’re ashamed of me too?”
Gwen shook her head. “You’ve stayed. You haven’t left. But somewhere it seems your heart has strayed from being honorable, noble, like your father no doubt taught you. As was right. A prince should do his duty. Make the rounds. See to his people. Not just…go wherever you go off to.”
He got up from the bed with a sorely bothered huff, telling her, “You know nothing of my father. Only the little bits I’ve told you and that barely describes the man. And I thought I made it plain. You commented about it earlier. This marriage is for show. You’re not going to make me feel guilty for-
He stopped himself. He was saying more than he wanted to.
Gwen’s faced piqued with question. “For what?”
No. She wanted to make him feel bad and it wasn’t going to work. This was his individual pleasure, nothing to do with her. “Well I’m going off now. Don’t wait up.”
Gwen heard the door shut tight. She rolled over on the bed, fisting the mattress with frustration. Arthur Pendragon was worse than a riddling dragon. So infuriating at times.
She sighed, composing herself as she sat up, noticing how the fire had lost some of its flame and she was feeling cold. Maybe her husband’s chill attacks were wearing off on her.
Gwen groaned, making her way to the fire to stoke it up once more before settling back down on the bed, curling up on her end, alone.
***
Nights later, she wanted the truth. And she wanted him to finally state it.
Gwen considered herself a wise enough woman. His behavior poked at infidelity. Arthur wasn’t a man of many words, but now he barely spoke to her at all. He’d just pout and get sheepish looks. It was two evenings later, she confronted him from her side of the bed as once again she felt the shift of the mattress’s weight.
“You’re going to see her, aren’t you? The Lady Elaine?”
He froze at that question.
The silence was ugly answer enough. She laughed bitterly, the bristling sound coming out before she could contain it. “Oh my God. You share this bed with me every night and yet you go the same to be with your mistress? You care that little for me Arthur? For your title?” Tears leaked out of her eyes without permission. She roughly wiped them away before he could turn and see.
“Didn’t want you to know.”
Gwen huddled on the other side of the bed, body’s movement separate from him. When she had come to the conclusion she hadn’t expected his departure to affect her so much. But it did. “You’d rather just make a fool out of me in private.”
He let out a long sigh at that, shaking his head. “I don’t want that at all. I told you from the start. I only agreed to this to make my mother happy. Because she forced me to it.”
Gwen turned back to him now, not caring if he saw the tears. “Oh. How lovely to be that hideous to you.”
He groaned. “No. I didn’t mean that. What I-
“JUST GO.” She told him sharply now. “Go be with your…lady…who’s been tittering every time I see her in town. Letting me know that she hasn’t lost her hold on you. I cared for someone deeply too in Tirmaiur, but I left him and I have been faithful to this marriage. This farce. GO.”
He caught her arm, intending to make his plea, but this battle was not to be won eloquently. He was foolish to think it could. “Look. It is not about you, alright? I have told you-
His cold skin chilling her, she shivered away.
Arthur sighed, bringing his rejected hand down. “I’m not going to feel shame for this. Men do it all the time. You had to know that coming into this marriage. I told you-
Gazing fixedly at the fire’s flames, she interrupted harshly. “That you are in this only because you were forced to it. Yes I know that. Don’t think I came into it with any happiness either. I do this for my father and for Tirmaiur, love, obligation, honorability, which you Arthur Pendragon understand nothing of, because every motivation you have, every decision you make is for your own selfish needs.”
“What do you expect from me?” He asked now with exasperation.
Finally she turned to him, hoping all her tears had been fully wiped away. “For you to give me respect.” Her hand pushed against her chest. “I am your wife. You should have at least told me the truth of where you’ve been going.”
There was wetness on her cheeks. They made him flinch. “I thought it would be worse.”
“You feel no shame?”
How was it that she became this? His conscience? He didn’t like that. “Men in these days and age do this all the time Guinevere. They take a mistress. They-
She grasped his hand firmly, getting him to fix upon her eyes. “Did your father? Because you see mine never did. I don’t care what other men do. I care what my father did and now what my husband does. I have tried to see good in you Arthur. But you are nothing but a selfish cowardly man. You do not act like a prince. And you do not act like a husband. You act like you are so cold and so afraid of just living. You shut me out. You drink yourself to a stupor. And you lie to your mother every day.”
She looked him straight in the eye. “Now tell me that your father would be proud of that.”
His pout formed at his lips, his forehead narrowing to hard lines. His voice shook. “You didn’t know my father.”
It was the truthfulness of who he really was, hidden behind layers of stubbornness and pain most definitely. But she had enough of it.
Letting go of his hand she turned her back on him again, not wanting to look on as he went to his mistress. Not for the personal reason so much. She had yet to truly understand Arthur, if ever. No, it was just that as a princess herself she was raised with so many good values. The Queen Ygraine had them too. Arthur was nothing more than a disappointment. She knew there was something in him that was stronger than this. She saw fragments of it day to day, but for now he refused to allow that out. And so she would not pardon him for being so much a bastard.
Like a statue of resolve she remained turned away, her chin held high, quietly, but strongly condemning his sordidness. Her anger spit out of her mouth just now, but not once did she yell or scream, and its result was powerful effect. He almost felt inclined to stay, enflamed now with guilt, but it had already been planned, and so he left to be with his mistress.
***
Their marriage, so novel and vulnerable, was deteriorating before it could even be reinforced.
A couple of nights later after feeling Arthur’s retreat from their bed again, Gwen looked upon the furniture like it was the filthiest thing ever.
Wrapping her arms around herself she decided a bath was in order. With it being so late she had already sent Mary away for the night. She’d have to just take care of it herself.
Gwen searched, finding the large tub at the southern side of their chambers, hidden by a curtain. With a grunt she tried pulling it out further into the room, but made of solid wood, it was heavy and so she stopped, instead giving it a few heaving pushes until she had it out enough.
The soap and washcloth ready, she now needed water. There wasn’t enough in the pitcher and bowl that they used for washing face, but there were pumps right outside the kitchens. She’d bring back some in a bucket and heat the water with the fire that was still glowing nicely in the hearth.
She removed her nightwear, a spare one in their wardrobe. Bared of clothing, she wrapped her robe around herself, tying it at her waist. It was doubtful anyone would be up. She was only making a short visit to the kitchens anyway. Opening the door quietly, she made her way down the hall.
***
Shirtless, Arthur moved to the crude window, taking in Camelot’s high rising castle in the far distance. He was in one of the tavern’s back rooms, discreetly in place for those who had the gold to buy its use. As prince there was no problem with that. Arthur had multitudes of gold. What was problematic was finding a tavern far enough away that would not bring any gossip back to Camelot. He even had to disguise himself with dark robes and leather wear.
Now it was as he told Guinevere, customary for a man to have a mistress, but his marriage was new, Camelot was part of an increasingly shaky alliance, and dealing with his mother’s unhappiness was another burden he didn’t need. Thus it was best to do everything in secret.
Pale slender fingers wrapped around his stomach, making him sigh as Elaine pressed her lips against his shoulder. “What made you leave the bed?”
Arthur’s mouth tensed, her touch usually bringing him comfort, just dampening his mood more now. When he wasn’t with Elaine he wanted to escape. But now that he was with her, he felt weighted by all that was happening in Camelot. He even recently started having bothersome dreams about his late father.
She moved in front, her lips pursed unhappily. “You are so far off. Not even answering my question.”
Elaine was right; he barely heard it.
As his troubling silence continued, Elaine rigidly fixed her hands on the waist of her under-slip. “It’s her. It’s the princess. That’s why you’re acting like this. That ugly little shrub who dresses like a peasant.”
Arthur turned to Elaine sharply, her anger now taking away from her physical beauty. It pinched her face. “She’s not ugly.”
Elaine lifted her hands with dismissal. “Oh yes, because of your mother giving her so many fine gowns. Before that she looked nothing more than a pauper.”
“Enough. You’re speaking of my wife.”
She yelled, getting him to gesture for her to be quiet. “Oh and what am I then?”
Arthur let out a tense breath as she continued indignantly.
“You told me Arthur that this would change nothing, but already it seems she is altering you. This woman who you only just married because your mother decreed it. Not because you desired it, at least that’s what you told me. So now that’s changing, is that it Arthur? You have feelings for her?”
It was a long rant, that she didn’t even give him a chance to answer to before she turned her back. Arthur was getting a lot of that. The cold shoulder. He reached out, touching Elaine’s arm, but as his fingers were chilled she moved away with annoyance. “You are like an ice shed sometimes.”
His eyes widened. Moving away he reached for his cloak and draped it over his shivery skin. Elaine let out a sigh that told him she regretted her words, but still her face was pinched with vexation. “There is no reason for us to be here anymore tonight. You barely pay me heed. There are other more…attentive men.”
Now Arthur’s eyes narrowed. As she started to pass by him with the innuendo of those words, he grasped onto her arm, letting go only when her eyes showed complaint at how his skin was still mostly chilled. “What do you mean by that?”
Elaine shrugged, telling him defiantly, “You are not the only roguishly handsome man, Arthur Pendragon. There are others who would not dismiss a woman like me so easily.” She meant to keep moving past, but then his lips pressed hard against hers demandingly.
Elaine smiled, whispering into his ear. “Better. Should I make you jealous all the time?”
That made him frown. “You were toying with me.” It wasn’t a question.
She laughed softly. “A woman must keep her man interested.” They kissed more. Fell to the bed.
Partook in some vigorous activity.
And when it was done…when he was slumbering, Elaine slid across the bed. Found his discarded trousers. And reached into his pocket…
***
Her bath finished, Gwen felt cleaner. Now she wanted to make one more return trip to the kitchens. Her mouth was parched; a glass of cider would help. She once more wrapped her robe around her now damp body. As she departed the room, her freshly washed hair sprinkled droplets onto the collar.
She moved out into the hallway, down the steps and then down another hall. As she started to make her way through the second hall, a door slid open in front of her. From it exited a man. Gwen stopped, pressing her hand against her mouth to dim the sound of her breathing. Then taking a furtive look around, she hid behind a tall statue of a Camelot knight.
The man’s long concentrated stride was familiar, Agravaine. Unlike her, he did not seem to be just getting a late night refreshment. He was wearing his cloak and all. As he turned the corner something fell to the floor.
She waited for him to walk further, before she left her hiding place. Carefully tiptoeing, Gwen stopped where the object fell. Reaching down, she picked it up into wet and slippery fingers. Not nimble enough, the object departed her hands, dropping to the stone floor once more, its only bit of muting coming from the woven carpet.
Unfortunately that wasn’t enough. Hearing the sound this time, Agravaine stopped in his tracks.
Gwen gasped as she saw that he was turning, coming back down the hallway. Scrambling to get up and holding the object behind her back, she faced him warily.
His dark brows peaked, like a twin pair of crow’s beaks. “Princess Guinevere?”
She smiled cautiously. “Oh, Lord Agravaine. You startled me.”
“Did I?” He asked, with apologetic gesture. “Well then I am very sorry. Although just a bit questioning about what are you doing out here in the middle of the night? It is quite late Princess.”
Her top lip bit over her bottom one. She could tell him the same, but she didn’t think he’d like that, and her wet hands behind her back were still fumbling to not drop the unidentified object that came out of his cloak. “Yes. Lord Agravaine. It is, indeed. You see I found myself feeling thirsty suddenly. I just wanted to get myself a drink.”
Those beakish brows peaked even more, the stance between them wide, putting Gwen on edge as Agravaine scrutinized her for a long while before answering.
“Well that is quite unfortunate. I would think my sister taught my nephew better how to treat a lady, especially his wife. Letting you get it yourself? Not chivalrous at all I would say.”
Gwen bit her lip harder, squeezing the object in her hand so fiercely she nearly lost grasp of it again. Feeling it edge at her fingers, she curled them over it tightly. “Well, actually, he’s sleeping. Arthur had a very tasking day, attending sparring practice with his knights.”
“I was under the impression Leon had control this afternoon. Your husband had other business.”
Gwen’s face scrunched up with frustration. Tension throbbed through her body as she tried to not appear nervous, struggling to hold onto the hidden object.
Taking a step forward, his height superior to hers, Agravaine’s dark eyes narrowed, as he asked, “Are you alright? You seem tense. But then of course liars usually do. Why don’t you show me what it is you’re hiding LADY Guinevere.”
He advanced further, giving her no choice but to back up. Her breath pushed against her lips, her heart beating fast enough to make her breast rise against her robe’s sheltering material. She knew it was only a few steps more, the wall. And either she’d meet it with enough force to drop the object she was holding. Or she’d be pressed against Agravaine’s threatening form.
She felt her footing suddenly lost, but before she could fall backward, strong arms grasped her waist to keep her steadily standing. And a voice from directly behind spoke with carefully contained anger.
“Accusations Uncle, against my wife? I don’t think my mother would like that very much. I certainly don’t heed by it.”
Arthur. As much as he kept upsetting and disappointing her of late, now Gwen breathed a sigh of relief, back pushing into his chest.
Finally the object simply fell out of her wet hands, but as it did, Arthur’s hands swiftly vacated her waist and caught it with shocking accuracy. He kept it in his hold, between his wife’s back and his lower half so it wouldn’t be seen.
“She’s holding something in her hands. Tell her to show you.”
It had helped when she pushed up against him and he grasped her waist. Having her so close to him, his actions were easily hidden. Smoothly Arthur pocketed the object and turned his head to his wife with quiet question. “Guinevere?”
It stunned her. How quick he was to react. Slowly she brought out her empty hands.
Making an ugly noise under his breath, Arthur told his uncle plainly. “As you can see Uncle, my wife is not hiding a thing, but she must be cold. Any man with dignity would see that her hair is wet and politely excuse himself, but instead you treat her wretchedly.”
Gwen wasn’t even given a chance to respond, in protest or any other way. Holding her waist with his hand, Arthur pressed his lips against his wife’s. His mood enflamed, his mouth was quite warm. The kiss was short, discreet, but still it did something to her breath for a handful of seconds. Her heart beat a little faster and so for a short moment Gwen placed her hand on Arthur’s chest, getting her balance back. She was mildly shocked to feel him murmur against her ear.
“Go on. The hallways carry a draft. I’ll get your drink. Cider?”
“Yes.”
“Alright. I’ll just be a moment.” He squeezed her waist for a second before gently letting her go. Gwen moved toward the elder man, stating with forced politeness. “Lord Agravaine. Good night.”
His lips fell into that almost smile. “Good night Princess. My apologies for mistakenly thinking you would take something of mine.”
She looked up. His last words were hissed out. He didn’t believe her. Still Gwen kept her chin up, passed by, pressing the front of her robe more tightly against her breasts. She had just caught Agravaine taking an indecent glance downward.
Arthur waited, a long while until he knew his wife would be out of earshot and then turned his unbridled anger on his uncle. “You had no call to treat her that way. Accosting her in the halls? Guinevere is my wife, a princess of the finest order, and you will speak to and treat her with respect. Do I make myself clear, Uncle?”
Agravaine was put off by the order for about a few seconds, before heavily scrutinizing his nephew’s wear. “Two liars. You were not in that room at all. Easy to tell by the boots and coat. Ah, Nephew, feeling a chill?”
He touched Arthur’s shoulder in a ‘comforting’ manner, getting the other to furiously move away from him before he smiled with insinuation too. “Oh and what about you Uncle? Do you always walk around the castle with your cloak on?”
Agravaine laughed at that. Arthur watched him fixedly. He knew he couldn’t stand the man before, but now his disgust had just grown twofold. Finding him with Guinevere in just her robe, seeing her actually trembling with discomfort, was enough to infuriate him.
“Best you hold your tongue Nephew. Your mother has been weary a bit of late. Have you not noticed?”
This was why Arthur despised the man so much. Years ago when his mother brought Agravaine to Camelot he was just suspicious of him. Now it was a thick welling of disgust. And his mother had no idea any of it was going on because he kept it from her for personal reasons.
Agravaine went on in Arthur’s silence, expressing his concern for his sister. “You don’t want to cause her trouble Arthur, now do you? I can tell by your face you know it well. Even though she tries to act like it’s not much, you’ve seen it too. She’s dealt with a lot of stress, a lot of it from you. And now she has to think of the kingdom. That’s why she had you get married, right? But if she knew your wife was a liar and that you too were lying to me…what would she think? What would your father think?
Too much. Arthur gave siege, pushing his uncle against the wall, who reacted with a touch of alarm before whispering, “We don’t want to wake anyone, do we Nephew? You’ll have to explain why you’re dressed as you are.”
Livid, Arthur barked. “And so will you.”
He stalked away, but then a third on his way to the kitchen, he turned around, hissing out. “Uncle.”
Agravaine turned, eyebrows raised.
Arthur snarled it out from his lips. “Stay away from my wife.”
Agravaine just smiled before responding, “Well, if you were a better husband that wouldn’t be an issue, would it Nephew?
***
Gwen kept tensely watching the door, giving a furtive glance to the one at the rear too. If he didn’t come back soon-
Suddenly the door flew open. Gwen gasped in surprise, feeling something wet fall over her robe.
After lightly splashing her, it landed with a heavy clang, even with its thickness, the ironware cup cracking into pieces.
Looking down at with dismay, Arthur gritted out, “I’ll get you another.” He noticed that she was wiping at new wetness on her robe. “I’m sorry. I’ll get a towel also.”
She frowned at him and closed the door. “No. It’s fine. I’m not as thirsty anyway and it barely touched me.”
Arthur pushed against the wall. Feeling that she hadn’t shut the door tight, he locked it more firmly into place and ranted about Agravaine. “Bastard. My mother never should have brought him here.”
“He is your kin.” Gwen reminded, searching for a rag, finding the ones she had used to wash and dry with over by the tub. With them in hand she knelt down upon the floor to clean the mess.
“Don’t. You’ll cut yourself. Let Merlin clean it in the morning.”
She let out an irritated sound through her teeth.
“What was that for?”
She fisted her hands at her waist, momentarily looking up. “Well that’s your answer for everything isn’t it Arthur? Let Merlin do it. Let Leon do it.”
“I don’t get Leon to clean my messes.”
She laughed dryly. “No. You just have him take over your knights. Actually they’re HIS knights.”
“I’m the Prince, Guinevere, not Leon.”
“Then ACT like it.”
She hissed and continued cleaning. Arthur watched for a few moments as she picked up the pieces into the cloth until there were no more on the floor. His mouth twitching, he handed it out to her. “Here.”
She had almost forgotten it. Gwen looked up at the object in his hands.
“So Agravaine was right? You took something of his?” He moved his hand back some, not allowing her to take it yet.
Her lips pursed tightly as Arthur kept his gaze on her fixedly. “Was my uncle right? You stole from him?”
She swallowed the truth, not yet ready to tell him, and not caring for his demanding tone. “I did not steal from him.”
“Then this is not his?”
“Please.”
She gestured for him to give it to her which he balked at. “You didn’t answer me Guinevere!”
Now he was practically yelling and so feeling a bit guilty, but also angry, she countered. “I don’t have to answer you. It’s not like you planned on answering me the first time you went to be with your mistress until I realized what was going on. If you think I am a liar as your uncle called me, then fine, keep it.”
His expression was slightly chagrined and touched by ire at the same time, but letting out a sigh, he handed her the object. Gwen pocketed it inside her robe. When she bent her head back down to clean some more, she was stopped suddenly by his hand tightening on her wrist, and his eyes focused on hers strongly. “Guinevere, I can’t stand the man. But don’t try to be sneaky with him. I don’t trust him, alright, and I don’t want him anywhere around you. So watch yourself.”
She breathed hard with agitation, never comfortable lying, but also furiously frustrated at how he kept twisting things. One minute he was off to see his mistress. The next he was showing concern for her. Well she had enough.
“Maybe I wouldn’t have to be so careful if you weren’t sneaking around. He kept asking questions that made me feel uncomfortable.” Angrily dismissing his hand on her wrist she got up to her feet, stating robustly, “You sneak out in the middle of the night so you can be fulfilled, isn’t that right my husband? Must receive a man’s pleasures.”
“Guinevere!”
She wasn’t done though. “I only state veracity. It shouldn’t offend you if it’s the truth, should it? Not unless you’re doing something that is improper. And it is not only that. You get yourself drunk at the tavern when you should be commanding your knights. Plus you order your servant around. All while you shirk every one of your duties. It is shameful! And I will not stand by any longer and hold my tongue while you act like you are entitled to every benefit of living while those around you must suffer for your selfishness. While they work, you just play.”
His teeth gritted against his bottom lip. “That’s not true. This marriage wasn’t my-
“Enough.” She cut off his lamely overused argument. “Two of us did not want this marriage, trust in that. In fact now, I like it even less, for you act indecently and too righteously.”
She threw the mess of the broken cup into the waste bin and left the rag to dry against the counter. Then heading to the bed, she grasped some of the blankets and walked away.
“What are you doing?” Arthur asked with a furrowed brow.
“I decided something. Reason why I wanted to take a bath so suddenly in the middle of the night.”
She looked back at it with disgust. “That bed is full of filth after what you are up to each evening, infidelity and adultery. So I won’t be with you in it. Not after you go to her. I won’t be in it with you and her…scent upon you. With you drunk like an old sinful man! I’d rather sleep upon the floor!”
Taking all the blankets she had gathered around herself she curled up then away from the bed, grimacing. She forgot it. He watched with surprise as she jumped up and got her pillow.
It was clear to Arthur that after their argument just now she was very upset and also her encounter with Agravaine had been unpleasant, but this, what was she thinking?
“You can’t sleep on the floor Guinevere. It’s freezing!”
She lifted her head to his warning. “Oh don’t worry my dear husband. I’m not prone to cold fits like you!” She couldn’t help muttering under her breath, at first lonely when this marriage started, then sad, and now just so indignantly incensed. It came out from her lips without her mind censoring. “Pig.”
“What was that?” He asked her with shock.
“I called you a PIG.” She told him without fear. “Only a PIG goes to the woman he was with before, whilst married. Only a PIG treats his wife like you treat me. Only a PIG would get back in the bed of one woman after being with another. And only a PIG neglects his duties every day. PIG PIG PIG.”
“Guinevere!”
An angry glare fixed on his face. Well she was infuriated.
“You look so shocked that I can get angry and yet you should not be. You test people’s limits Arthur and mine has found its end. Did you THINK I was so feeble a woman, so fragile, so needing of a man’s touch that I could stay in the same bed with you after you…do…what…you…do? Stoke the fire yourself this night! Maybe it will burn some sense into you!”
He watched as she curled upon the floor, far from the bed, hearing her breath hot and bothered. Even though he tried to fight it, shame crept into his skin and heart, lashing out there uncomfortably.
*
Hours later, she woke to hear the hearth lightly crackling and see his shadowed form sleeping upon the bed. In the fire’s glow it seemed he had rustled around the covers quite a bit. Well if he was having trouble sleeping it was just what he deserved for his illicit behavior.
No sooner had that thought entered her mind she started feeling bits of shame for her own doings.
Making sure that he was still asleep, his arm stretched out above his head, and a soft snore escaping his lips, she felt confident enough to sit up and reach inside her robe that she had left on the chair. Within the pocket was what she picked up earlier. Gwen studied it now with a crease to her brow.
It was a vial, identical to the one she saw Ygraine holding. She was just about positive. Now of course most vials looked alike, but the contents could have a different color and the lids were sometimes different shaped or hued. Her sleuthing skills told her that this one matched the one Arthur’s mother had.
It was not only that though. What was most disturbing to Gwen was that she swore when she saw Agravaine making his way down the hall, he had been leaving the outer rooms of Ygraine’s vast chambers.
Why?
Already Arthur had proved how little he trusted Agravaine. And she shared in that emotion.
But no one should become the guilty culprit until all the facts were known. And no need to worry her husband if not needed. It didn’t matter, any anger she might have towards him. She wasn’t viciously unfeeling.
Thus, she would have to find out what the vial contained before any further actions. Arthur surprisingly gave it back to her without too much argument. It was another one of his rare confusing displays of concern for her welfare when he warned her. So if the vial really was taken from his mother, she’d make sure her husband knew.
Gwen gave a heavy sigh, putting it back in her robe’s pocket. Tomorrow.
Enough already this night. She needed sleep.
***
To continue...
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