Love of Exception
*Made by ella_rose88*
Title: Love of Exception
Rating: Teen {has love, but also loss, so please be gently warned}
Word Count: 6,600+
Characters: Arthur, Gwen, Merlin
Art:ella_rose88 did the beautiful poignant banner art. Thank you M for so graciously sharing your talent.
Author’s Note: This was supposed to be up for Valentine’s day and then I got behind, lol, and then a wild, but fun fic competition took my focus, and so now I’m posting it and sharing it. Hope you enjoy as much as I enjoyed writing.
✾~❧~✾
“Darling…
You are the only exception”
~Paramore~
✾~❧~✾
Past the bridge and the rushing river, from the mountains and the trees, they rose and fluttered into the sky. The stories of the mating birds were vastly beloved in Camelot. The time of the males coming out to meet the females was always greeted with jubilee. Every mid February their arrival brought such hope and happiness for the cold bitter nights would soon end and the warm and vivid colorfulness of spring would just be a beckon away.
The mood so celebratory, it came, every year, the Valentine’s Day Festival of February 14th. There would be music and dance. There would be cards of love and flowers to gift.
Some months past her very first kiss from a prince, Gwen sighed. The Valentine’s Day Festival was tonight and she would be working hard to make sure that the prince, his father, and all the lovely ladies that the prince’s father heralded, would be pleasurably served. She’d be at the side of her mistress and dear friend, Morgana, while Merlin served at Arthur’s.
Normally no weight wore upon her for having such tasks to complete, but now her emotions had been stirred around by that kiss of months past and the one that followed.
Oh the time he came to stay. She still considered then Arthur Pendragon to be a man she just sort of knew. For years she kind of marveled at him and complained just the same. She grew excited, and then deflated when he didn’t move up to the task. He was handsome, but ever so arrogant, so yet to become the kind of man that king required.
But somewhere within Gwen just knew he’d get there. Like the birds finding each other now in the skies and branches, she knew Arthur would reach his calling and become the greatest king Camelot had ever known.
Some day…
But for now…
Well she was not fit for a prince. At least not to Uther Pendragon, Arthur’s father. She was no more than a servant girl to him, and so he had others who he thought would make his son happy this night. Others who Gwen did not want to think about.
Because always, even in the light of day, if her fingers touched her lips, and he was there, training, walking by, or just standing afar, she’d feel the soft sweet burn of when his lips touched them. She’d experience the spring of flame that they tickled the insides of her mouth with. She’d wonder if emotion had turned to something so deep, so full, as passion. It was the most surprising passion of commencing love.
Gwen shook away all her rush of thoughts as a bird’s song lifted to her ears in fierce interruption of realism. She had no more time to sit upon this bank. There were many duties for her to tend to around the castle before the special Valentine mini jousting match. It was just a short performance for knights to obtain their ladies gaze, for princes to acquire a princess’s kiss upon the cheek.
Gwen fixed her lavender skirts, her apron dress with the beautiful mystery of birds upon it, and moved forward, not too watching of her direction, mind and heart somewhere beyond.
Perhaps that is why the body that came against hers did so in a way that made her startle, as arms lifted, and hands extended to steady her.
“Oh…oh…Guinevere.”
The first ‘oh’ was just a generic reaction. The second was an oh that ah-ha…it was her. Specifically her.
“My Lord…forgive me…I did not see you there.”
Arthur smiled softly, feeling a peace that oddly only came with her around. “Didn’t see you either. I’m sorry.”
“No harm. I came here to watch the mating birds.” She rambled a touch, before silencing her mouth smartly.
“Me too.” Arthur whispered. “So did you catch sight of many?”
She wanted to delve into the conversation, but it was so inappropriate. He was prince and she was servant. That meant tonight many women of nobility would be at his side, wanting to taste his flame of spring lips.
She blushed slightly, before shaking her head. “Just some. I need to get back. Morgana must be waiting for me. We’re to attend the jousting match together.”
Arthur nodded, not telling her that because he was jousting himself, there was little possibility Gwen would be late if she stayed just a bit more. He knew this was a game of avoidance that should be left alone.
Just this.
He lifted his hand, pressed against her arm as she turned to leave. He held her steady, looking up into her eyes for she was standing on the higher end of the grassy bank, his position on the lower part. “Will you cheer for me? Like you did when I stayed with you?’
Gwen gave a shrug. No doubt there would be many women cheering for him this time from the bulk of Camelot’s cities, the nearest lands. Add to that the princesses desiring his courtship. “I’m sure you’ll have many. No need for me to also.”
She once more moved to leave, but this time Arthur caught her hand, gently, but briskly bringing her down to stand with him upon the lower part of the bank. “I take it if Lancelot were here you’d be rooting for him.”
It was out of his mouth before he could constrain. It was months ago that Hengist captured her and Lancelot and they were imprisoned. They kissed. And…
Well he was pretty sure nothing else happened, but that was enough. Of course a month or two later she kissed him when he was put under a love spell. And let him know that they couldn’t be together afterward, that she would never be his queen.
Of course she didn’t like his clipped response now as she made sure to disengage from him, whispering calmly.
“Lancelot is not here. So no need to bring up the past. I must be going now…my Lord.”
He gave a curt nod and stepped further up the bank, watching the birds that now twittered in the trees.
Gwen had already excused herself, was making to leave, but she held still for a moment, noticing his quiet concentration. It surprised. She caught how he stood there with wonder in his blue eyes as the birds flittered in the trees, as the mating rituals began in the dawn of morning.
“You like to watch?”
Arthur smiled, a little more at peace now. “Who doesn’t? It’s why we started celebrating this day after all, isn’t it?”
She smiled back and touched his hand. “It is. And if you prove yourself worthy, I will cheer you on today.”
“If?” Arthur asked with a wrinkle to his brow.
She lifted her finger teasingly. “As I recall, it was Sir William who was so victorious last time.”
To that he grinned. “Oh yes, the dashing Sir William.” He probably was remembering all the costuming and washing that had been performed to get the farmer man to look like a proper knight.
“Very dashing.” Gwen grinned back and sauntered away playfully.
Arthur watched her little flirting sway for a moment, coming to a decision, before directing his attention to the birds again.
✾~❧~✾
The jousting match was a rousing display of plenty of competition, but mostly hurrahs of entertainment. Everyone was dressed quite festively and Arthur proved his worth, winning without great difficulty, but Gwen noticed with a pleased expression that he showed no huge degree of bravado as he wrapped arms around his fellow knights who received second and third place.
Night soon came, evening of the gold white moon half behind a whispering of clouds, the rest of the sky touched by the brightness of stars’ shine.
As men and women rounded each other in the middle of the floor, others dined with loving glances or flirtatious ones, to the sound of the minstrels playing one love tune after another.
Busily Gwen tended to her work, wiping her brow at a short moment of rest. Having to go back and forth from the kitchens meant she was being touched by hot sweat that she had to rid her forehead and cheeks of.
As she finished wiping she noticed the interactions of two. The beautiful golden haired princess was giving him a solid kiss upon the cheek. And he didn’t really reject it. Of course not.
Gwen let out a resigned sigh. It was to be expected of course. Uther had made sure Arthur was joined by plenty of female accompaniment this night. They were practically clamoring for the young handsome prince’s attentions. And so be it.
He had his indulgences. She had her work. No need to watch with any deep revelry. That would be just stupid counsel.
Gwen finished getting her plates served and returned to the kitchens. More sweat upon her face. More toiling.
✾~❧~✾
The hours grew to even later ones. It was near midnight when she felt a tap upon her shoulder.
“Ah…Gwen.”
“Merlin.” Gwen turned back to him with a touch of surprise, taking in his usual bright scarfed attire, fittingly red for the time of Valentines. He was smiling at her in a mysterious way.
“I have something for you.”
She grimaced a touch. “Okay.”
Merlin brought it out from his pocket. Gwen unfolded the thick parchment, her brow furrowing as she read the words. “Merlin, what-
She asked, but he wasn’t there anymore. Gwen shook her head. Strange. She read the words on the parchment again. It was just as strange, and somewhat familiar.
Why?
Well…the mysteriousness and all of it didn’t matter. She had more work to do.
Gwen returned to her tasks, but after somewhere near a half hour more of it, she let out a sigh. Quite a few had already left the premises, including him of course. She noticed too that one of the fine princesses in addition was missing. So most likely they were together enjoying themselves-
Oh now it wouldn’t do to dwell on that, Gwen silently chastised herself. The parchment found her fingers again as it seemed to be burning a hole within her pocket and mind’s curiosity. The hour was so late. Not even the king was in attendance anymore. It probably wouldn’t hurt, but best to let her mistress know first.
Gwen made her way to the front rectangular tables. Her mistress, dressed in velvet red and gold, was at the corner of one with a dashing knight. They were conversing with smiles and laughter. Before Gwen could even politely make her presence known, Morgana was turning to her with interest.
“Gwen...what is it?”
It seemed odd to tell her with the knight there too. Perhaps Morgana realized this because she stood up now, excusing herself from the knight for a fast moment, and held onto Gwen’s hand as they stepped back from the table some. “Is it an admirer?”
Gwen gave a shrug, before giving Morgana the message.
Reading it with deep interest, Morgana smiled charmingly when she got to the end. “Oh…I see it is.”
“That is not known for certain Morgana.” Gwen stated cautiously.
To that Morgana laughed, her long dark hair fluttering around the shoulders of her red and gold gown with the action. “I’d say it is. So I’m guessing you want to leave?”
Gwen shook her head, but before she could say more, Morgana was grasping her shoulders firmly. “And leave you shall, Gwen. The festivities are almost all over. Sir Roger over there has promised to show me his…armor.” Morgana stated with a hint of teasing. “Says it gleams.”
Gwen smiled with inches of amusement as Morgana once again told her, “Now go. Just be careful. Since your admirer wants you to meet him somewhere more remote…I could have Sir Roger make sure he is not some philanderer. Or…”
Morgana reached within her dress, bringing out a shiny jeweled dagger. Gwen stared at it, feeling Morgana’s hands bringing it into hers. “Here…just keep the case upon it if not needed.”
✾~❧~✾
So with that Gwen was now outside of the festival, past the heart of the citadel, near the river’s edge, at the bottom of a Camelot hillside. If she wasn’t holding the dagger so strongly in her grip, she probably would have dropped it when the set of shoulders and the strong line of a person’s back became a familiar one.
Her feet pressed against the ground, her heart giving a little pound of shock. “You?”
He was turned around all the way now, his eyes shining with interest, his mouth giving a little curve. Even with all the princesses surrounding him most the night, ladies from the side tables giving him wanting glances, he’d been watching secretly just one figure, desiring the company of just one individual. “Yes it is me, Guinevere.”
She walked up more, feeling his hand brush over her wrist, his eyes so intent. Gwen tore her focus away from them for a moment, seeing the blanket upon the grassy ground, the bottle, and the glasses. There were even his pillows in attendance, two of them. “What is this?” She gestured around.
He gave a shrug. “Well since we both seem to enjoy it, I thought we could watch the mating birds…together. It’s said that the bulk of them arrive at dawn, sometimes even earlier.”
“What about your princesses?” Gwen asked even more urgently. “Your father?”
Arthur still hadn’t moved his hand from her wrist. “They don’t interest me. And you may not have noticed but he departed hours ago. My father never stays for the entirety. As much as he enjoys it, also makes him melancholy.”
“Why?” Gwen asked with interest.
“Because it was my mother’s favorite too…the birds…she loved it as much as I do. Now I know what you’re going to say, that he wouldn’t approve of this. And you’re probably right. My father is still stuck in ways of old. He doesn’t see things the same as I do all the time. But this is what I want. Guess the question is Guinevere…is it what you want?”
She couldn’t help think of the company he’d been sharing inside, not with shards of jealousy, but prickles of discomfort. There was no ease in experiencing emotions of feeling for a prince, when you were a handmaiden. For you see every fate of destiny told that there was no chance of happiness together becoming veracity.
He was looking at her now like she was the one to choose, but this was his decision too just as much. To engage in anything with him was nearly threatening. If found out by those who objected, it could even cost her life. “You ask?”
Arthur took a step forward, his hand not only on her wrist now, but his fingers tangling with hers, conjoined with intention. “Yes I ask Guinevere, because I’m not always certain it’s what you want.”
She objected to that with a frown, calmed, but its direct hit no blurry miscalculation. “You say that and yet you’re the one who made clear months ago that your father would never allow such a thing. You said the same now.”
Arthur let out a sigh of truth. “I can’t see my father smiling at you and me together. It is nothing personally about you. It is how he feels about kingdom, Guinevere. He will want me to marry for political reason, not…feeling. I don’t agree with that…not entirely.”
Marriage? Gwen wondered at his direction of thought. “So what do you want to have happen here, Arthur?”
What did he want? Well, to not pretend with a pretty perfect princess who really didn’t catch his eye, or more importantly, his heart. He wanted to be outside with the one he loved, but first one matter. “To be with you. Guinevere. I want to be with you.”
“Tonight?” She asked cautiously.
He shook his head, hoping his intentions weren’t soiling into something clandestine. And it was more than that. Guinevere was a servant of Camelot. He saw her as much more, but that was her official role, handmaiden to Morgana. If foolish, careless, while together, he could leave her with something that would endanger her life. He didn’t want just some simple affair with her, especially not one that would cause her pain.
“To just be together…watch them, the mating birds. Nothing more. But I’m careful in asking because…of him.”
“Who?”
“Lancelot.”
Gwen now sighed. “Arthur, he’s not here.”
“That doesn’t mean you are without thought of him.”
Now Gwen looked more deeply into Arthur’s eyes, taking in his grand attire all the while. He was still in his Pendragon cape, but underneath this night there was no chainmail, just his bright red tunic for the festivity. It meant the top part of his chest was not covered. His pale skin lit through, displaying hints of his muscle. His golden blonde hair half fell over his forehead, mostly pushed back against his neck. And those eyes, they of blue ocean whispers of sky, looked to her with touches of doubt.
It had hurt him when Hengist took her and his recue was met by another man, Lancelot. She was wise enough now to know he mostly lied about why he rescued her then. She knew now that it wasn’t just about Morgana’s will. He lied to protect his pride…and perhaps his heart. She wasn’t proud herself of how she acted then, but it was his stubbornness that brought on her own.
Now it was months later, after a further kiss in the tent that she commenced because of that love spell.
“Arthur…” She disengaged one of her hands, feeling him gently let go. She lifted it to his cheek, her fingers stilling there under the glow of the moon. “I’m here now. In Camelot. With you. I’m not thinking of another.”
It was a risk of heart, but she wanted to take it, wanted to plunge, for something always happened when he was near. He thrilled a part of her being she never even truly knew existed before. “I want to be with you too.”
To that he smiled happily and led her to the blanket.
✾~❧~✾
Wine was enjoyed with bits of talk. They sat upon the blanket and smiled and laughed. They joked about the knights and Merlin, stories of exploits and such. He gave out a little cry of exaggerated shock as he felt the dagger come against his side. She amusingly told him how Morgana gave it to her in case the man she was meeting was some dangerous philanderer.
Arthur chuckled at that, telling her it was a good thing he was nothing of such.
Midnight turned to one, to two, to three. In all the time so far they hadn’t kissed, but they had touched, and their eyes had wandered to the other pair of lips quite often. With the night surrounding them, with the wine lazily sweet and strong, they knew temptation was right at the brink. Better to talk, to enjoy a bit of distant company for the time being. Allow that instead of kisses turning to pools of hot passion.
With the hour later and later, bodies grew more relaxed, coveted rest, and so he lay upon the blanket and coaxed her to lie beside. Soon her head was upon his chest, his hand was pleasurably stroking her back, and something popped free from his tunic’s covering, something that she looked at and soon fingered with wonder.
“Arthur, what is this?”
He drew his fingers down the barely used chain, only for this occasion, touched it with her. “A sigil. My mother’s.”
She drew up at that, staring with question. “A sigil, but aren’t they magic?”
He nodded his head. “I’ve heard the same. But it’s never stopped me from wearing it. At least not on this night.”
“What does your father say about it?”
He shook his head. “Nothing. My father does not know about it.”
She stared, eyes widened, and he told her the story of someone who must have been with his mother in her last hours. She was given the sigil, told to guard it, and when the time was right, to leave it with him, with a note too.
“The note came from your mother?” Gwen asked, her fingers still upon the weavings of odd metal, like none she had ever touched, so labyrinthine the design.
“Yes, has the exact same hand used as cards/letters, my father has from her…but she died before she could finish its words. I know she meant for me to have this. I’m just not entirely sure why…something I think having to do with protection because her last word of the note stated prote-
And then it was cut off.”
“Who is the woman who gave you the sigil then, and the note?”
He shook his head. “I don’t know Guinevere. I was too young to be aware. I just know she took great risk to give me this. And I am thankful to her for that.”
“Why do you think your mother didn’t want your father to know?”
Arthur gave an uncertain shake of his head. “I’m not sure really. I guess because it had magic.”
“But magic was not outlawed until after…she died.” Gwen stated gently.
“I know that. Which is the mystery of it. I suppose she had her reason.
Look Guinevere, I’ve never questioned it. Just to know that my mother had this, wanted me to have it, is enough. I don’t like keeping secrets from my father, but this…I don’t feel guilty for not telling him. It was my mother’s wish for him to not know and so I honor that.”
He couldn’t help ask with a touch of uncertainty. “Do you think me awful for not telling him?”
Gwen did not particularly like Arthur’s father, but any respect she showed to him was because of his son. She cared for Arthur deeply and so she cared not to say anything uncouth about his father. “No. It’s like you said, your mother’s wish. It does not hurt your father. It only touches your heart.”
He smiled at her understanding, hands circling around her shoulders, lips pressing to her brow. “Thank you. You’re the only one I’ve ever shared it with. The only one who I think would understand. Well…and probably Merlin. It’s kind of different…like him…actually he’s just strange.” Arthur couldn’t help deadpan.
Gwen laughed softly, fingering the sigil further as she moved up to look upon it more intently. “Is this a bird?”
“It is. It’s a bird of legend I believe.”
“What?” Gwen asked.
He told her about sneaking into Gaius’s quarters one time after enough musings on the strange, but beautiful bird upon the sigil’s heart. In one of Gaius’s thick volumes he found an image that almost exactly duplicated the one on the sigil. The book was hard to read. He took a quill and wrote the words onto parchment. Then he went to Geoffrey to find a translator. After that, he snuck out of the kingdom for a day to find the translator and learned what the words meant, learned the name of the bird and more.
“Adar Llwch Gwin. It was said to be this great bird, of magnificent size. A giant. It could understand people, did their bidding. I’m not sure if all that’s true. The translator was a bit balmy, believing in so many odd things, but I do think it may be an image of that giant bird, or at least one that has strong resemblance to it.”
Gwen fingered the sigil with more interest, carefully turning it over, looking upon the strange griffonage.
“Are these words…does this say something?”
He nodded. “I think so. I’m just not sure what. I didn’t feel right showing the man the actual sigil. And I couldn’t figure out how to write these words…if they are that..clearly enough. They’re sort of confusing.”
Gwen murmured with consent. “They are indeed. But this is very special.” She referred to the sigil. “A beautiful gift from your mother. Thank you for sharing it with me.”
He held her even closer, letting out a meaningful sigh. “Guinevere, I am glad we are together. She loved to come out here to wait all night for the great flocks of birds to arrive in the morning too. That much my father has told me. She loved to watch them. They made her heart light. She loved creatures of flight…so much.”
Gwen reached out, caressing Arthur’s chest through his tunic. “I feel so very close to you now Arthur. I wish we could always be like this.”
He grasped her cheek, the side of her face, and kissed her lips, whispering longingly. “I wish the same Guinevere. Wish it often.”
From that they slumbered together, holding close, holding tight, but not so firm to be shameful, to be needy. Peace was always found with each other, somehow, someway. Her calm tempered his spurts to action. His ease lured away her intensity of protocol.
✾~❧~✾
Morning’s dark turned to morning’s light. Sun poked at the moon and first bits of illumination sang out to the birds of wonder.
Soon Arthur was waking her excitedly, like a thrilled boy, pointing it out, gathering her close so she would see just as in kind what he did. “Look Guinevere…look at them. Aren’t they marvelous, such spectral beings, the way they fly around each other, the way they soar in the breeze…”
It was a novel side to him, it was the side that she believed mostly contained his mother. And yet it wasn’t fully surprising for his heart was most definitely his mother’s. His soul was entwined with hers. The colors of the birds, myriads, kaleidoscopes of magical majesty. The way they flew with such abandon, not knowing of their being spied upon. It truly was the most wondrous thing ever. It truly…
“I love you.”
She looked up, saw his eyes of conviction, of solid veracity. Felt his lips descend upon hers. Press and hold there. Wet warmth. A spring of quiet passion. She turned away though, shaking her head, getting him to respond more strongly, holding tightly to her arms, his voice fervent.
“I do. I love you Guinevere. You alone. I don’t love any other princess. I don’t love dancing with them. I don’t love being in halls of celebration with them. I just love you. I am at peace with you. I can forget so much of it with you. I can be myself…with you…Guinevere.”
“Arthur-
She started to plead, but he didn’t allow it, grasping her shoulders just a bit more tightly, careful to not hurt, but urgent enough to not let go. “I know you think it’s impossible. I know I’ve told you sometimes it’s not possible. But somehow…someway…it will happen. You and I will be together. You will be my queen…Guinevere. For you are the only queen I desire. You are the only queen I want by my side.”
She felt just a short sprinkle of tears at eyes’ edge. She tried to shake them away. “Can it be?” She asked, needing to hear him give answer.
His grasp of her shoulders got her to turn. “Look at the birds. How do they do it? How do they fly? How do they hold there, suspended? If they can…surely we can. If they can love, if they can give heart, then we can too.”
But when? She had to wonder. How long would she have to wait? How long-
She looked back to ocean of eyes, their blue of sky, their hope and wonder. She caressed his cheek, whispering, “I guess I’ll have to wait til then.”
His heart shook. “I’m sorry. I’ll try not to make you wait too long. Just know you’re the only one.”
The only one that got by the rule, the brotherhood of knights, the love of kingdom. For she shared it all with him. And yet, this feeling of her, this depth of heart, it was its own. It lived not so much in tandem, but alone. For only one thing could make him give it up. Could make him run away from the fate. Could make him turn from his father.
Her. The only exception. Love.
And yet the hands that held his cheeks now, that found his shoulders, the fingers that delved with emotion into his hair, would never ask that of him. Loved it all in kind. Believed in all the protocol. Believed in his destiny.
She…
The only exception of love.
She…
And he…
Lost in kisses, lost in devotion of each other, they held like that until the sun warned that day was at beckon and that they could more easily be found by those who would cause them harm.
✾~❧~✾
And yet, every year hence, they risked it and returned.
From secret relationship, to marriage when they no longer had to hide, but still kept it an intimate secret.
From build of kingdom
To its golden dawn.
To children.
To grand ones.
Every year of Valentine, they returned. They loved the birds…and each other.
Every year.
✾~❧~✾
Day passed to day. Week to week. Month to month. Year to year. Past. Forward.
Time moved on, even beyond the horrid day his heart ceased its beat, when he pressed upon her breast with scarlet fingers his sigil.
It lays upon her heart now as she lies within the bed they shared for so many years, that she has still not gotten used to sleeping in alone. It is too grand. It is too empty.
She looks upon the calendar at bedside, seeing it clearly after moving forward. Her vision has blurred in past months. She is too weak to stand as the morning commences outside her window. She looks upon the flowers and other giftings. She smiles at them fondly. Marriage to her dear king brought on two sons and one daughter, brought on a few grand little ones too. They are children most precious, the son now of age to rule.
But first that eldest son must wait for her departure. He has told her he does not want it, her leaving of the world, but she is wise, and knows now that with grandchildren even to count, life is dimming.
It’s a bit of salvation anyway for it to fade.
Life has been less of heart without him, her husband, her love of exception, for these four years of existence. She misses daily, hourly, by minute, by second.
“Day of Valentine…” She whispers with dried lips, quaking for his moisture. If her health was better she’d rise and go there. Not one time has she missed. How can it be that she will not go this year?
“I must get up. I must go be…where I and my Arthur always went…together.”
It swims before her eyes, days of golden grandeur. Moments of fierce battle. Occasions of splendid festivity. Wonders of magical achievements.
She looks upon one gift specially. It is from Merlin…Merlin Emrys…the sorcerer, her husband’s dearest friend who howled madly when his king died. When he couldn’t save him. When not even the sigil would end the suffering. For it was time.
As now…
She whispered it to Merlin last night, seeing how he had aged beyond them for Merlin had much heaviness that he carried. He had done so much to keep Camelot alive and vital, to protect his king, queen, and all those who they brought to world.
“I feel my time is nearly up Merlin.”
“No…don’t say that Gwen.”
She laughed shortly, feeling him holding her shoulder as the laughter grew painful. “Easy.”
She touched his whitening beard, smiled at him fondly. “Nothing is easy anymore. I miss him every day. The children…look at them. They are older. They are mature. They lead new lives, new adventures. They will be good without me. Look at our eldest son, just like his father, so handsome, so full of heart. He will love Camelot the same. He will be good.”
Merlin had to know, Gwen thinks now. Merlin had to…for she can feel it at the moment. “Oh if only I could get up from this bed. If only…”
It comes then.
Sudden beautiful light shining through the window. Gwen curses her shaky legs, but then experiences a strange oddness.
Magic? No…cannot be.
She lifts up from the bed. She goes to the light, but it will mean travel. Good thing her legs do not give out on her now. Her feet are no longer heavy. “I can walk…” She lets out excitedly.
The stairs are not far. She takes them carefully, but there is no falter, no shake. She laughs joyfully, finding no hindrance, no one blocking her path. Even the guards do nothing to stop her.
No one rises to cease her movement. She runs through the citadel, heads with love’s abandon to it. The hillside. The one she and her dear Arthur shared so many times.
Holding the sigil pressed to her breast, she spins around and around. Breathes in the beautiful scent of nature. Stops to watch the mating birds at they arrive, flocks of them. So many. It’s so wondrous. It’s so…
“Hello my Love.”
She hears a voice, but it cannot be. No. That voice, now four years without it, can’t be possible.
“Took you long enough.” He deadpans, and she turns around, seeing him standing there. Beautiful. Proud. In red tunic. Young and vigorous. Golden shine of the sun turns his hair to mineral. He is everything. He is…
“Ar-thur…” Her hand presses to her heart. She peers down at her naked feet, at her ankles that the blades of grass brush against, tickling.
His hands come out. “Yes Guinevere. Arthur. Your Arthur…your heart’s Arthur.”
She rushes forward, nearly falling, but for his hands that grasp her arms, the love that quakes from his lips and eyes. “Oh…my Love…” She presses against him. Into him. Her fingers shiver to feel his skin, to touch it, not some dream, not some spectral vision. “Oh Arthur...”
He smiles, hands fondling her cheeks, touching and holding. “I’ve missed you.”
“I…you.” She breathes out.
The birds fly around them. Everything is beautiful. Everything is…
His lips are one with hers. Kiss after kiss. Love in each embrace of feel. She delights at it and then impulsively looks back.
“No.” He catches her shoulder, turns her. “Don’t look back Guinevere. Don’t look back.”
“But…”
She stares at him with wonder. “You are so young. So…like you never left. Like…”
“As are you.” She startles at that, feeling him leading her to a flowing spring, where her image is one of a woman of vibrancy, of young wonder, no elderly state.
“Nothing wrong with us being older, especially not you. Every maturity line made you more beautiful, but it left us weak of body often, in pain, and now my darling, that is no more.”
She stares at the image, at him, looks back more boldly now, with sparks of fear. And sees it. The room where she has not departed. Where she still lies. Where family cries over. Grieving…
“Arthur?”
He takes her hand gently, holds it to his heart. “Don’t fret. Don’t fear Guinevere. Where we go, we go together. We will never be separated again. For your heart...my heart…have always been meant to be forever, to be joined, to never lastingly separate.”
“I’ve died then?”
His kiss touches her forehead with warm moisture. “You’re in a new place Guinevere. A new kingdom…with me.”
“And our children?”
“Oh my dear. You were waiting for the moment. You were prepared for it. You have raised them well. They will cry…and then they will laugh again. They will love you…miss you…and remember you with joy one day. Do not worry. We have prepared them for this. They know the road to follow.”
She nods, the answer giving her comfort. “And this…where we are? What is this place?”
He takes her hand, leads her forward with a curious smile. “Avalon. It is Avalon, Guinevere. It is where you and I will wait.”
“For what?”
“For the time when we will return to the world.”
“You and I?” She asks.
He kisses her lips, apart from them for too long, rubs his face against hers with longing. “Yes…for you will always be my queen. Never different. We will always be together Guinevere. On day of Valentine…every day.”
Day of Valentine. It fills Avalon, the mating birds so beautiful, the hillsides glowing. She turns around with wonder. “It is heavenly here.”
“It is much of Heaven my love.”
She feels it against her breast and moves it away from her neck, from her chest, brings the chain down over his shoulders, his neck. “I return it to you then.”
He holds it against his naked skin, the beautiful mysterious sigil, and holds her too. “Thank you. Are you alright now, are you afraid to be here? I did not want your coming to be rushed. I told them that you would have to arrive in your own time. As much as I missed you…I tempered my heart that way. Now are you okay Guinevere?”
She sees all his worry, all his concern past this peace in him that is beyond what he was during life. It is she now who is new and filled with wonder. But that peace travels to her also and she nods her head, holding onto his hands, caressing his cheeks. “I have missed you just as much. And of course I am alright. I am with you again. My Arthur.”
They know, somehow are aware that when the time comes to go back to life, when no doubt they’d probably be separated in some way, taken of memory in some form, it will not matter. For hearts will travel with want and covet. They will seek the missing. And whether he be king of kingdom or that of office or that of a hovel, no matter. For the exception of it all was their love.
The exception was that together, they’d always turn fates of life to golden ages. They’d always…
“I love you…” He whispers now.
“I love you too my forever husband.”
They touch. They part each other of clothes eagerly. They quake. They moan. They hold. They glisten with the exertion of love. Bite down of passion. Glorious splendor of culmination. They are naked with no reservation. They are surrounded by warm blanket and each other.
They are alone. One together.
The only exception…
The birds of mating
Who take wing before them.
Around them.
Love found.
Love returned.
Love…
The greatest exception of life and afterlife.
Love…
~Forever more.~
✾~❧~✾
Happy belated Valentine’s day everyone. <3
This is a prelude {a little bit of an epilogue too} to a story I’ll be sharing with you soon that does a different take following season 4 into season 5. The sigil will be a huge part of it. And in that story I want to explore fully the golden age, the events that lead to it, that the show didn’t really quite give us.