Fic: Stokes the Very Fire that Burns You, Gwen/Arthur Merlin Mordred OCs, rated R
Title: Stokes the Very Fire That Burns You
Author: kepp0xy
Characters/Pairings: Gwen/Arthur, Merlin, Mordred, OCs
Rating/Genre: R, for violence & dark themes, UST & suggested sexuality. Also, humour, with a wee touch of crack, h/c and some romance. Definitely future!fic, beginning a year or two after A/G are married.
Spoilers/Warnings: Violence. And no spoilers.
Words: ~8300
Summary: To forge a warrior queen. Or, three times Gwen's life wasn't really in danger, and two times it was.
A/N: For the holidays, I offered my flist a card or a fic, and mancalahour asked for fic! She asked for something based on an excerpt from Wiki's page on Mordred, included at the end as it pertains to one of the situations in this piece. Many thanks to mancalahour for also acting as beta and for the gorgeous graphics she gifted me in return ♥!
This has been, by far, the most challenging fic I've ever tried to write, but it was a lot of fun to tackle, and I'm pretty pleased with the result. I hope you enjoy it :] Concrit is especially appreciated and encouraged, and all comments will be well loved.
1.
"Um, Merlin?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't mean to be a bother..."
"When are you ever, Gwen?"
"Thanks, but... It's just... I'm in the air."
"What?"
"I'm in the air."
"What do you mean, you're in the - OH! How did - What - What are you doing up there?!"
"I was actually hoping you could tell me..."
"I have no -
"Merlin, have you ever - Guinevere!"
"Hello."
"What are you doing up there?!"
"I was actually hoping Merlin could explain."
"Merlin."
"Would the two of you stop looking at me like that?"
"No."
"I'll figure it out. I just... It must have been - I guess I misread the spell, or..."
"You really shouldn't stand beneath me like that, Arthur."
"You may fall and break your neck."
"I won't let her fall!"
"If I fall, I'll only land on you and break your neck."
"I won't let you fall!"
"You don't weigh anything near enough to break my neck when you fall on me."
"I won't let her fall!"
"Sorry, Merlin. Of course I know you won't let me fall."
"Thank you."
"I don't trust you not to let Gwen fall."
"Hey!"
"You're distracting him from figuring out how to get me down."
"You're right. Merlin, practice better focus."
"Illshowyoufocus."
"What was that?"
"I said: Of course, my lord."
...
"Arthur. Are you looking up my dress?"
"No. Definitely not. What cause would I have to do that?"
"I wouldn't know. There's nothing you haven't seen before."
"True, but this is a very... interesting... new angle..."
"I thought you said you weren't looking!"
"I'm not."
"You know, perhaps you should take advantage..."
"What?"
"Well. Once I'm down, there are many things you won't be seeing for a very long time."
"Guinevere..."
"I can actually hear you two, you know. I haven't gone deaf."
"Just dumb, then."
"What? I'm speaking perfectly - oh."
"Stop distracting him, Arthur."
"It's all right, I've got it sorted."
"Wonderful, Merlin. Can you put me down somewhere Arthur can't reach me?"
"What? Why?!"
"Sure."
"Thank you."
"Er... There's no strange colouring on your fingertips is there?"
"Mmm... No..."
"Oh, good."
"... Well, I'm going to go. Thank you for the tea, Merlin. Uh, and the little floating adventure."
"Yeah, sorry about that..."
"It's all right. No strange colouring, remember. And Arthur... Good day, my lord."
"I'll see you at dinner?"
"Perhaps."
"Guinevere... Damn."
"You really shouldn't have been looking up her dress."
"Shut up, Merlin."
2.
Gwen made certain to bid the servants ensure Mordred and his companions did not lack for food or wine. It was a little unfortunate for them that they had turned up at the castle on the same day a celebration was due to take place for Leon and his new wife, but she was glad they had agreed to attend nonetheless.
The alliance they had forged with the druids was still tenuous, and many druids feared or mistrusted Camelot. It was always a relief, Gwen felt, when they came, though. That they were willing (in many ways, more willing than the non-magical people of Camelot) to try and find cause for trust, to put faith in the alliance and try to move past barriers.
Arthur pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before moving off to talk with his knights. She and Arthur always seemed to finish their suppers first at these events, and it was to them to set off amongst their guests.
Tonight, Gwen indulged herself, staying seated and watching Arthur make his way towards a knit of men beginning to stand after their meal. Some things, she thought fondly, watching as the king of Camelot made a fool of himself, acting out some fight or other to great guffaws from his men, don't change.
Her gaze slid to the druids again. They were quiet, and still looked haggard which made Gwen's heart tighten in sympathy. Where Camelot was making efforts to forge ties with magical people, some of the surrounding kingdoms were only clamping down harder against it. The druid party had not spoken of it, but Gwen could guess their journey had not been easy.
Mordred took another flagon of wine and topped up his chalice. He had not smiled upon arrival; had not even offered the weary smile of gratitude like the two others. She didn't blame him, really, it just seemed a little... Well, rude. And when she was being honest, she would admit to never having felt entirely at peace with Mordred. Gwen felt terribly about that, as he had never given her cause to distrust him. Yet, there was something about his bearing... Or, the way he had entered their lives... How he had captured Morgana's interest so instantly...
Shaking her head, she scanned the room for Margaret, or Samantha, the only two ladies whose company she genuinely enjoyed in court. Gwen laughed in sudden amusement after spotting them quickly, watching as they played a flirtatious game of cat and mouse with a pair of Arthur's newest knights.
"My lady."
With a start, Gwen redirected her gaze to find Mordred bowed before her. All she could see was the silky brown hair atop his head, making her horrified that he thought he needed to bow to her. "Come, Mordred, please stand." Gwen reached her hand forwards, intent on lifting his chin if need be. "You bow only to Arthur in this court, and only when decorum requires it."
Mordred did not look up, instead taking the hand she had reached forward between both of his own, bowing over their clasped fists. "They will blame me," he said quietly. She had sudden flashes of a little boy, lying near to death on a cot in Morgana's old chambers. "They will all blame me, and I will blame you." He was no longer such a little boy, but still too young to be speaking in a voice so grave.
"What -
"There were a hundred ways it could have unfolded," he continued, his words fast and lilting. He would have a beautiful voice, if it weren't so laden with a sudden darkness. Gwen wondered briefly if the strong scent of wine could truly be coming solely from him. It was a smell that almost engulfed her. "The two most likely, involved us."
"Mordred -
"But you... You made a choice, and somehow the rest of the paths buckled and collapsed, leaving but one." He looked up, and Gwen knew terror. She had met many people she feared or despised; she had never met anyone who had so much anger and hatred blazing so coldly in two ice eyes. "So they will all blame me. And I will blame you."
He tugged her viciously and Gwen was flying forward, reactions not quick enough to break her fall as she landed hard on her knees, sprawling down to her chest. She just caught herself before her face slammed into the rock floor, but she could feel that one of the stones had bitten sharply into her palm and it seemed her knees were on fire, the pain there was so intense.
Gwen had no chance to rise as Mordred hissed a curse and his boot connected sharply with her ribs. The pain that blazed fast was unlike anything she'd experienced.
There was no time to react. His fist slammed into her cheek - someone shouted, "The queen!" - she curled inwards. His fist pelted at her arms covering her head, and then his boots were pounding against her legs protecting her stomach.
She couldn't breathe.
She didn't understand such hatred.
As suddenly as he had appeared before her, he was gone. The void left in his wake was filled with point after point after point of her body bellowing in pain. Gwen gasped, and almost choked.
Merlin's voice was then in her ear, trying to coax her to unfurl. "Gwen, he's gone. He's restrained, Gwen, come on..."
She slowly lifted her head, and Merlin slipped a careful hand under her arm to help her into a sitting position. Every movement ached; her eye and lip were throbbing painfully, every breath was difficult. Gwen raised a weak hand to cover her heart, beating frantically as though trying to escape her chest.
"Clear the room," Arthur ordered somewhere to her left and Gwen turned her head to look at him. He was nearly quivering with fury, sword drawn, tip touching just above Mordred's heart. But the boy had no eyes for Arthur; paid him no mind. His eyes, still seeming to glow white in his hatred, were pinned unfailingly on Gwen.
"Arthur," she said urgently in sudden fear, surprised at how hoarse her voice sounded.
He was by her side in an instant, but he hesitated, crouching and clearly unsure of where he could safely touch her. When finally he looked at her face, his eyes were dark and his expression grim, even as he attempted something that may have been a reassuring smile.
"Can you walk?" he asked.
Everywhere hurt, her heart was shattered, and she desperately wanted to whimper no, to ask that he - or someone - bear her to their chambers.
But Gwen glanced at Mordred. His expression had calmed, but his eyes still sought her out, and a quick look at his fists told her he was not as subdued as he appeared.
Anger flared in her belly, weaving uncomfortably with the fear still entwined tightly around her heart. She would not allow him knowledge of how fragmented she felt.
So nodding, Gwen said, as strongly as she could, "Yes. Can you please help me up?"
Both Arthur and Merlin flanked her quickly, their hands warm and comforting beneath her arms and clasped between her fingers. Once she was on her feet, she shook them off with as much dignity as she could muster.
Only to wobble dangerously as her ankle protested in agony; she hadn't even been aware that Mordred's attack had landed there. Arthur pressed against her, one hand under her elbow, the other around her waist, but Gwen was determined.
"I'll walk," she said quietly, glancing up to find Arthur frowning disapprovingly.
"Guinevere..."
"Please, Arthur." She turned her face up to him fully and met his gaze steadily. "I'll walk."
With a heavy sigh, he carefully let her go. And when she stayed steady, Arthur turned to Leon and spoke in tones which would easily resonate through the room, "I will escort the queen to our chambers before returning to deal with him." There was a pause, and though Gwen did not turn to look, she could imagine the expression on Arthur's face as he surveyed Mordred. "Merlin, send for the physician to our chambers."
"Right away," Merlin said quickly, very gently squeezing Gwen's hand on his way out.
Expecting Arthur to simply turn back, Gwen twisted her head in surprise when he moved behind her, only to reappear on her other side. Though his frown was stern, still disapproving, it was clear he understood why she was doing this, and supported her. It did nothing to ease the agony from her body, but she felt stronger for it.
Having Arthur on her right meant Mordred had a clear view of her as she walked from the room unaided. They made their way very cautiously across the hall, and Gwen sometimes needed to slow and fight the waves of pain and resultant nausea. But as the doors closed behind them, Arthur turned to her, quickly sending his arms around her waist as she sagged in relief.
She had not shown fear to Mordred. And he would not ever overcome her.
"That was incredibly unnecessary," Arthur bit out above her. He held her gingerly, and Gwen was thankful, as she hurt absolutely everywhere. She needed the rest before she could continue on, and his chest was firm, warm, and familiar; his hold was safe.
"I couldn't let him win," she whispered back, closing her eyes for a moment. It was a little easier to breathe in the cool hallway. The aches of her body were still sharp, but a little more ignorable; it was harder to imagine the loathing in Mordred's eyes.
Arthur's sighed response was the only sound besides her harried breathing for a few moments, until Gwen stirred and made to stand again. "How best should I lift you?" Arthur asked, his hands now gripping her elbows as support while he considered her. Gwen opened her mouth to argue - she had made it this far, after all - but Arthur spoke sharply across her. "Don't tell me you're fine to walk all the way to our chambers. You're the colour of bad meat, and you're trembling like a leaf in a stiff breeze."
Gwen almost smiled. "This side is fine," she said, and only just managed to bite back a whimper when he lifted her. Her ankle throbbed angrily, she had probably made it worse, and the physician would have her head.
Better than Mordred having it. Gwen shuddered. Arthur pulled her tighter against him.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, Gwen carefully tucked her head under Arthur's chin. She took a deep breath, letting the familiarity of his musk soothe her before she asked quietly, "What will we do with him?"
"I should have him hanged," Arthur said harshly, readjusting his hold beneath her thighs slightly to pull her closer. The motion sent spikes of pain shooting through her from the bruises on her legs, but Gwen swallowed down her moan.
After the pain had passed, a small spark of agreement gnawed in the pit of her belly, but Gwen smothered it. "We can't - Morgana," she said and Arthur grunted out a gruff, "I know."
Silence fell upon them. They reached the final corridor before Gwen finally spoke again. "Banishment?" she offered in a very small voice; it was not something she had ever suggested before, something she had not ever imagined saying.
"I don't know if we really have another choice," Arthur said bitterly, stopping in front of their chambers and setting her down carefully to open the door. Gwen leaned heavily against the wall and shook her head when he went to pick her up again.
"I can walk, if you'll help me." His lips pursed, but he took hold of her elbow anyway, sending an arm around her waist and supporting her as she hobbled awkwardly into the room.
Gwen felt a strong wave of appreciation as she settled onto the made bed. One of their servants had lit the fire, burning lowly in the hearth and keeping the chill from their chambers.
She turned to Arthur in surprise - wincing at the prickling spasms the movement caused throughout her - when he settled beside her on the mattress. "You should get back," she said quickly.
"Enough bravery, Gwen," he responded gently, proudly, wrapping his arm around her and carefully pulling her against his shoulder. He tenderly kissed the top of her head, and began to stroke her lower back. "You've shown enough bravery today," he murmured into her hair.
Hearing Arthur call her brave cracked whatever control she had been holding over her emotions, and all the fear, anger, and confusion she had been ignoring went pouring viciously through her, seeming to stir aggressively against each injury. Tears burned in her eyes and her throat thickened.
At her strangled sob, Arthur twisted towards her fully, wrapping his other arm around her back and Gwen pressed herself into his hold, gripping his shirt in her fists as she wept into his chest.
-
Mordred was sent from the kingdom at dawn. Morgana's letters arrived three days later. One, a formal apology and appeasement to the court on behalf of the druid elders; the other something more heartfelt and personal addressed to Gwen.
Arthur's lips were a thin line as he passed the sealed parchment to her, and Gwen allowed herself to read it only three times before passing it back to him. Her stomach twisted as his frown only deepened, and she grasped his wrist urgently as he thoughtlessly went to throw the letter into the fire.
"She defends his actions," he snarled, only releasing the missive with Gwen's sharp tug. "She blames wine and stifling atmospheres -
"Arthur," Gwen warned, and he looked at her quickly.
Morgana's letter had stung; the way she had dismissed Mordred's actions as meaningless responses to external stimulation... Gwen could still imagine the contempt andblood lust on Mordred's face, the strength of which could only be born from harbouring - fostering - animosity. Not from a bit too much wine. She just did not understand what she could ever have done to beget such loathing; he spoke of a choice, but she could not think of any she had made that pertained to him...
And she could not simply forget his attack as Morgana asked her to. Not only were the aches and bruises still healing painfully all over her body, but Gwen dreamt of his expression, waking cold and trembling, nearly gasping down sobs. And the look on Arthur's face when he woke to find her that way, in the brief moment she could see his face before she was wrapped safely in his arms, made her heart ache.
But she had always been loyal to Morgana; always would be.
Arthur's stare remained hard and unrelenting, even as she imploringly softened her own. "I won't be swayed, Guinevere," he said firmly. "The banishment stands."
"I don't disagree," she murmured. Gwen ran her fingers lightly over the sensitive skin between his thumb and forefinger until he met her gaze again. "Just... Don't be angry with Morgana. She didn't do it, and she wasn't there."
Gwen belatedly realised that was the wrong thing to say; Arthur still ached over Morgana's absence, while Gwen had mostly come to terms with it. Thankfully after a moment, he relaxed the set of his shoulders.
"I want to be able to kiss you without fear of hurting you," he murmured pensively, reaching forwards as though to touch her lips with his fingertips before dropping his arm to her waist and pulling her against him. She could feel how his arms created a careful cradle around her, where he would have held her flush against him previously.
"Mmm, now you know my frustration when you come home injured from battle," she said lightly, trying to create some levity.
The pause was brief before he snorted above her. "Let's keep it as your annoyance," he said, trying - and failing - to sound nonchalant.
She carefully kissed his chest through the material of his shirt in response. Not only for Arthur's sake, but for her own, for the kingdom, Gwen began thinking of ways to prevent ever feeling so helpless again.
1.
His chest was warm beneath her cheek as she settled into his side, stretching her arm across his stomach to tickle at his hand resting next to him. Arthur turned his head slightly, pressing a quick kiss onto her forehead before whispering a firm, "Good night, Guinevere."
With a reluctant sigh, Gwen offered her own, more lingering, kiss to his flesh beneath her cheek before murmuring her own good-night.
It wasn't long after the warm darkness of sleep engulfed her that she awoke as someone took hold of her hand, stretched off behind her back. It took a moment for Gwen to realise the only person who would take her hand was still lying, snoring boisterously, beneath her, and the delay in thought was too much.
Whoever it was dragged her quickly from the bed before she managed more than a strangled, "Arthur!"
Gwen tried not to think about how familiar and chilling it was to feel a blade edge at her throat; how much she hated seeing Arthur spring from the bed, clothed only in trousers, to discover his wife in the arms of some mystery attacker; or how the urge to strike her elbow sharply into the person's midriff was growing as rapidly as her anger, and only matched by the fear that kept her from doing it.
Her only solace was the attacker had only been able to capture one of her hands; Gwen wrapped her free hand tight around the person's wrist and tried to pull the blade away from her throat. It was little use; whoever they were, they were stronger than she was, but Gwen kept her fingers strained around their wrist.
Arthur's expression proved little comfort as his eyes moved fast, assessing the situation, but apparently finding little encouragement. "What fear, Arthur Pendragon," the person said, and Gwen was startled by the higher, female voice of the speaker.
"What do you want?" he asked, taking slow, deliberate steps to bring him ever closer. Gwen fidgeted a little, but the woman only tugged Gwen's arm higher - painfully - up her back, nudging Gwen's throat with her blade. It was nearly impossible for her to swallow.
"What is it anyone seeks from the Pendragon house?" the woman asked, and unexpectedly Gwen detected the desperation beneath her tone. She wondered vaguely if the woman expected to survive this encounter. "Revenge... Retribution... To see you suffer as I have."
Gwen met Arthur's gaze with a slightly raised brow and Arthur shook his head nearly imperceptibly. "We don't know what you're talking about," Gwen rasped, trying again to push the woman's hand away from her throat.
"No. You wouldn't, my lady," the woman said. She rubbed her jaw against Gwen's head and Gwen only just managed to suppress a shudder. "Cloistered away in the castle grounds... No real insight of her husband on the battlefield."
"I don't believe Arthur is anything but gallant in war," Gwen gasped as firmly as possible, taking heart in the way something flashed in Arthur's eyes. The situation could not be lost if he still responded to her faith in him. His jaw was clenched tightly, as were his fists at his sides, but he continued to stalk towards them.
The woman laughed and dragged Gwen back a step. "Ah, peasant queen," she said, and Gwen bristled at the condescending affection, and mockery. It had been a term lost even to the most haughty of nobles, as Gwen had long since proven herself to them. "So naive. Your king is murdering scum."
"Enough!" Arthur snapped. "How do you intend to take your vengeance?"
It took Gwen a moment to realise that Arthur was trying to delay the woman. The sting on her throat was enough answer in her opinion, but watching Arthur's eyes flick desperately as the woman raved passionately behind her, Gwen began to wonder if it wasn't something she could do.
"And so, with the loss of your wife," the woman was saying, once Gwen had finished assessing her position. "You will understand your misdeed."
The woman stiffened behind her, preparing, and Gwen met Arthur's gaze.
"Gwen - !"
Her attacker was laughing, no doubt thinking Arthur's exclamation had been one of desperate fear. She was right, partially, but Gwen also heard the desperate warning, plea, command - don't do what I think you're going to!
But she had to try. She would not spend her last moments watching her husband become drenched in her blood.
Just in case...
"I love you," she murmured.
"Gwen - ! No!"
Stomping her heel down heavily on the woman's foot, Gwen wrenched her head to the right and back so the blade, when it slid across her skin with the woman's jolt of surprise, could only nick the side of her neck. Gwen tried to twist her body away, but the woman's hand had somehow tightened on the wrist she held pinned to Gwen's back.
The distraction was enough for Arthur. Gwen couldn't be sure what he did, but after a terrified beat in which she thought she'd failed, her arm was free and she was staggering away. Just as she'd lowered herself to the floor, trying to calm her trembling, there was a muffled whimper behind her, and a heavy thump.
Before she could turn to look at the attacker's lifeless body, Arthur was suddenly surrounding her. She was cradled against his chest before she knew what was happening, and she wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing her face into the crook of his arm.
"You're all right?" he asked fearfully, tightening his hold around her until she nearly found it difficult to breathe. She was shocked that he trembled slightly as he brushed his jaw along the top of her head.
Gwen took a shuddering breath, nodding awkwardly, her cheek and forehead grazing his chest. "My neck stings," she admitted and Arthur's hand rose to stroke down her head.
"If that's all, then we'll deal with that in a minute," he murmured, sounding a bit relieved, and she closed her eyes as he pressed lingering kisses into her scalp. They were silent for a time before Arthur's breath caught, and then he stiffened, and Gwen recognised the signs for his coming anger. "You could have died," he said tightly above her.
She wanted to argue, to tell him no, I was always going to be fine but it simply was not true. And that frightened her. So it was she who stroked soothingly down his back now; held him close to show him she was all right, that she was right there, always would be.
And in those moments, Gwen came to her decision.
After he had begun to relax, she whispered, "I want to learn to fight."
He tensed again instantly, and Gwen could feel the motion of his neck twisting as he shook his head above her. "Absolutely not."
"Arthur -
"Guinevere -
"I would learn it from you, or find someone who will teach me," she said, in the tone of voice she had learned would show Arthur she meant exactly what she said and would not accept otherwise.
And this was something she had been considering for some time; as queen, it seemed, she attracted far more hostility than she had ever expected. And Arthur, Merlin, or a knight assigned to guard her could not always be near. And even when they were, sometimes they would not be enough. As proven tonight. As proven in a room full of nobles and servants when Mordred began his attack.
Another short pause, before Arthur said halfheartedly, "I will ban anyone from teaching you."
"And there would still be one knight willing to train me in secret," she replied quickly.
At his silence, Gwen pulled out of his hold to look at him. It was a bit of a struggle; Arthur was not keen to let her go. "But I want you to do it," she whispered. His nostrils flared, and she could still see the terror in his eyes that broke her heart and fanned the fear still twisting her own stomach. Gwen slipped her hand along his neck, settling just behind his ear, stroking her fingers into the hair at his nape, her thumb across his cheek. "Who is there better?" she asked, with a soft smile.
Arthur didn't smile back; he watched her, frown slowly starting to crease his brow as he accepted her decision. With a sigh, he dropped her gaze, only to have his expression become stormier as his eyes found her neck.
"We'll discuss this later," he said definitively, his finger gently brushing against her neck. When he brought his hand between them, Gwen's stomach twisted at the blood staining his fingertips. Arthur stood quickly and offered her his hand. "We have other things to deal with now."
It was the concession she needed; she managed to keep herself from shaking as they stepped over the body of the woman and out into the corridor to discover their guard also slain. Gwen's eyes flashed to Arthur's face, his jaw tightening, a flash of sorrow in his eyes, but he tugged her on towards the physician's chambers.
3.
The sound of steel against steel clanged loudly, followed by the grating of a sword sliding down another. There was a scuffle of feet, and a loud cry from Gwen's throat as she forced her weight behind her blow.
The door slammed open to reveal a frightened servant, a heavy candelabra thrust before him with a trembling hand, clearly preparing to try and defend his queen.
Arthur let out a heavy sigh, dropping his sword-hand, and Gwen offered the valiant servant an appreciative quirk of her lips as he lowered the candelabra.
"King Arthur, Queen Guinevere..." the servant greeted uncertainly, standing awkwardly by the door.
Gwen smiled through her heavy panting. "I'm sorry to have distressed you, Alric," she said graciously. "We're only practicing."
Alric stared at her blankly for a moment before looking to Arthur for confirmation. "It's true," he conceded unhappily. "Can you spread the word around, actually? You're the thirteenth person to come in here, worried for the queen's safety." Arthur tilted his head, a bit bemused, then gestured to the candelabra still clutched in the man's hand. "Which - thank you. For that."
"Of course, my lord," Alric said. Gwen's smile broadened; Alric was a good man, and she knew he had his eye on serving Merlin when the day came that Merlin finally admitted he needed the help. Alric dipped quickly into a bow to her, saying, "my lady," before shuffling out and shutting the door behind him.
After he'd gone, Gwen looked back at Arthur. His lips were a thin line and his eyebrow was raised expectantly. Gwen tried to look innocent.
Arthur blew out an exasperated breath before rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Guinevere," he said, tone somewhat clipped. "You're usually as quiet as a mouse and so unassuming. I've never heard you this loud."
"Hmm... That's not entirely true..." responded Gwen thoughtfully, sliding her feet into position and slowly raising her sword. "You have heard me this loud - frequently, actually ... Just, it's generally only after night has fallen."
She laughed in delight at his expression. He'd frozen, brows raised in shock. It was normally he who made comments which alluded to their bedroom habits, and she who would be feeling the heat rise to her cheeks as the blush was now appearing on his. She couldn't exactly name what it was; the powerful thrill of wielding a blade, or of being so close to Arthur as he moved in an element in which he had such great skill, or of feeling her body being pushed to the brink, tested to its limits... But she felt so bold with her heart thudding excitedly in her chest.
He blinked after a moment, shaking his head a little dazedly, and cleared his throat. "I don't know what I was thinking, falling in love with you," he muttered, raising his own sword and nudging the point of hers playfully to show he was only teasing. "Most queens would happily do embroidery. My wife decides she must learn the sword."
"Daughter of a blacksmith," she reminded him lightly. At his snort, she nudged his sword with hers, and hopped back as he lunged towards her.
The spar was for Arthur to get an idea of her skill level, as she told him that Morgana, and a couple of knights who used to be in her father's patronage had taught her a few things. Her body was already protesting, unaccustomed to being used in these ways, but she was determined to see the afternoon through. Arthur had set the time aside especially for this; she would not waste the opportunity.
After his test was over, Gwen was nearly fighting collapse; she wondered if being crowned had made her too complacent, if, in her days as maidservant, she would have handled this exertion better. Arthur passed her a cup of water with a small grin on his face.
"Had enough?"
"No," she said stubbornly, after quickly swallowing the entire cup's contents. He cocked a brow and Gwen felt her cheeks heat. "I'm fine," she insisted, setting the cup aside and lifting the practice sword again. "What will we do next?"
Arthur studied her for a moment before reaching around her fingers and tugging the sword free from her grasp. "No more with these," he said, looking at her over his shoulder as he set both swords against the wall. "Now it's time to fix your posture."
Gwen straightened, preparing herself to imitate him. The first posture was relatively simple; a basic preparatory stance she had seen him mimic dozens of times at tournaments. He had her hold it, however, until her arm was trembling from being raised for so long. Gwen was silently thankful Arthur had taken away their swords.
The next was defensive, and though Arthur demonstrated it several times, Gwen blamed her fatigue for the fact that she couldn't quite grasp it.
"You're almost there," Arthur told her, moving up behind her. "But the way you are now leaves you open on your right. You've got to hold your arm more like this." His hand slid the length of her arm, linking with her fingers and guiding her into the right position.
"Oh," she breathed.
She also blamed her tiredness for the fact that she was extremely aware of the heat of Arthur against her back, of the callouses on his palm holding her hand, of his breath breezing her shoulder. If she wasn't already so familiar with his physicality, Gwen would have been embarrassed.
"I see now."
His other hand lightly grasped her hip, applying gentle pressure and twisting her body. "And your feet have to spread a bit more, to balance your hips," he murmured, brushing his chin against her neck as he observed her.
There was a short pause. Then Gwen almost jumped, almost moaned, almost collapsed, when Arthur's lips dusted her pulse point. "If I stop entertaining the terrifying thought of you actually using these skills against an opponent intending serious harm," he began, slowly letting the hand on her hip stroke to her stomach. "I find myself..."
Gwen turned her head towards him slightly; his nose brushed her cheek, his breath flitted along her jaw. She suddenly found herself panting, and she couldn't tell if it was from the physical strain of holding herself this way, or because Arthur was being so unexpectedly sensual.
"You find yourself?" she prompted quietly after the pause had sustained for some time. His breathing seemed loud in her ear, his fingers curled down between hers to stroke her palm and his hand tensed against her abdomen. Her heart began to pound, and the flush on her cheeks flared as she so easily envisioned Arthur entirely unclothed.
Just as he inhaled in a purposeful way, Gwen's thigh shook noticeably. Arthur straightened, his hands dropping away, and Gwen swallowed a whimper of protest as she stiffly moved to stand properly. She wouldn't have been able to enjoy anything anyway, in her present state.
"Take a long, hot bath," Arthur advised, moving off to collect their swords. "Every day until your muscles don't ache any longer. And you ought to stretch and practice the postures." Gwen nodded, pouring herself another cup of cold water before they left. No amount of willing it seemed to slow her fluttering heart, though, and the water did little to cool her hot blood.
"And Guinevere," Arthur continued, voice now a bit gruff. When she turned to him, his eyes were dark and his expression hungry. "Be sure to tell me the day you wake up in perfect health. We'll clear the following morning of obligation and I expect to return that night to find you dressed in those trousers and shirt."
Gwen held his gaze for long enough that Arthur's expression turned a little worried before she inclined her head and lifted the corner of her lips in a half smile. "In turn, I expect you to return wearing your long coat with Excalibur on your hip," she murmured, surprised to hear her voice so rough.
Demands never really sat well on her tongue, but she thought that if she were to lift a piece of tinder between them now, it would catch fire from the look he was giving her. And by the stiff way he nodded, obviously loath to break eye contact, Gwen assumed she watched Arthur with much the same expression.
2.
"My lady! At least call for a knight -
"Is there time for that?"
The physician's silence was answer enough, and Gwen completed her turn, heading purposefully away from him. Near the door, a sword was abandoned on the cobbles beside a moaning knight who held his stomach, blood trickling distressingly quickly through his fingers. Gwen paused briefly to brush her fingers across his brow - silent thanks for his sacrifice, as she has learned these past years to recognize those who would not last the night - before she stooped to collect the sword and strode out of the great hall.
She missed Gaius. On the days when Arthur had an injury or the irritating nights she couldn't sleep because of a fever, or even when she saw an elderly man in the towns with similar stature, or with a crooked brow but a light smile. But mostly she missed him in times like these. When he would not even have given a perfunctory protest - were she queen or not. He had known her better than that.
And in any case, the physician's chambers were mere minutes from the great hall. It would be a very quick trip to collect him the supplies he required; unlikely to draw trouble as the fighting had not yet reached the keep.
Would hopefully never reach the keep, she prayed silently, to whichever gods were listening.
She had only taken the sword as a precaution - because Arthur would be angry enough with her (though trying valiantly to hide it) for leaving without a guard, and she was not keen to see his reaction if she had also failed to bring some form of defence with her.
A small part of her feared his reaction were she to have cause to use the sword, but she was absolutely confident there would be no reason to.
Until she finally reached the physician's chambers to find his door wide open. With anyone else, in this crisis time, it would not have been a surprise. But Gwen secretly believed that even if the sky was falling, their physician still would lock his stores and bolt his doors.
Gwen moved to the side of the door, and pressed her back to the wall before cautiously peering in. At first, she thought that it had been a simple mistake. That indeed his rush had been so great that he hadn't the time to close up as he normally would have.
But relief was fleeting; there was a hiss, and then flames flared on a match tip as the hulking figure of a man set light to a candle wick. In the dim light, Gwen thought that perhaps she recognised him from a stall in the grimmer side of the market. And if she was right, she could imagine exactly to what purpose the stolen supplies would go.
Indignation flared as he moved towards the physician's medicinal stores and Gwen stepped fully into the door, raising her sword for all the good it would do in this dim light, and said, "Stop."
The man froze, turning slowly to face her. He kept the candle a careful distance from his face, ensuring she could not make out his features clearly. And it was only then that her heart began to pound and fear rushed fast through her veins. Whatever this man was doing here, it was obviously initiated with no good in mind. And this was no normal situation; in war times, Arthur had told her and she had witness firsthand, status began to mean less and less. Particularly once the pillaging began.
Gwen just never thought the pillaging would start before the situation even reached dire.
The pause was brief before Gwen heard a chortle. "Is that you, my lady?" he asked, sounding amused and surprised.
"Yes," she responded, straightening her shoulders and evening her stance. "Take your leave."
"Oh-ho-ho!" He took a couple of steps towards her, and Gwen carefully backed away. She was relieved when she felt the edge of the stair, able to step back into the central courtyard, rather than fall backwards. "I respectfully refuse, my lady. This opportunity is too ripe."
"Ripe for what?" Gwen asked, proud that her tones did not waver. As he moved out of the alcove and into the square with her, Gwen was able to see him clearly in the bright moonlight flooding the kingdom. A small measure of relief moved through her; he was far smaller than she had initially thought, and though certainly still bigger than her, possibly someone she could best in a fight.
If it came to that.
"Your highness would be a great asset in bargaining for our attackers," the man said, grinning toothily. "And I could finally leave this hellhole with the coin I'd score in presenting you to them."
"I will not go with you," said Gwen firmly, stopping mid-courtyard to center herself. "But you will certainly leave this place."
"With you, I will," he agreed, raising his hands peaceably. "Let's not play games, you won't fight me."
Gwen had never in her life uttered a threat before, and certainly Arthur had not taken the time to teach her any. But Gwen was nothing if not willing to try. "I won't," she said, proud that the tremble remained in her belly and did not infect her voice. "Unless you give me cause of it."
His laughter rang out, bouncing back at her from the castle walls. For a minute, it stirred her fear, but as it continued, Gwen began to find it obnoxious. And before she knew it, each chuckle ignited her anger, and then added tinder until it was blazing in her chest.
"Leave me, or raise your sword," she said lowly, bending her knees in preparation.
His laughter abruptly died and the man drew the blade from his belt. "You are worth very little dead," he said, sounding almost disappointed.
Gwen let the pause hang heavy between them, satisfied when he shifted a little uneasily. And with that shift, his elbow dropped, and Gwen lunged forward.
Their swords clashed so loudly it hurt her ears. He stepped forwards; Gwen stepped to the side dropping her sword arm slightly so the man stumbled.
He was quick to turn and parry her next blow. Each of her attacks went blocked, until her foot slipped a little and the man went on the aggressive.
His blade swung down from high above her, and if only she was a little faster, Gwen could have made use of the opening to his gut. Instead she could only dodge back, flitting forwards again with his swing back.
She drew first blood. A prick to his thigh when she had aimed for his stomach. It was something though, and Gwen had seen the fear flash in his eyes. Sudden worry that perhaps she would not go down so easily.
Not at all, she thought fiercely.
The gust of a near hit blew icy against her throat. Gwen ducked; Arthur had drilled into her that her greatest asset was her lightness. A scuffle of slipper and her sword nicked his middle just as his sliced shallowly along her arm.
They moved away from one another. She felt no pain on her arm, not yet, only a chill where she had begun to bleed. But he was beginning to look weary, panting heavily and obviously trying hard not to clutch at the gouge on his belly, though to her eyes, the wound on his leg was bleeding the worse.
He looked about to speak, but Gwen had little patience for taunts. She ran at him, feinting left at the last moment and swinging her sword towards his ribs. She had far more force than expected, and her sword dragged her back, causing her to stumble and fall to her knees.
She held fast to the blade, trying to use her momentum to carry her around. The man bore down on her; she saw his shadow from the corner of her eye. She rolled to her back, bracing the hilt against the ground and pointing the tip to the night sky as she kicked hard at his knees so that he fell forwards.
His weight impaled him solidly on the sword's blade, a terrified howl wrenching from his lips, and Gwen rolled away just as his first bloody cough wracked his body.
Without her support, man and blade fell sideways. Moonlight glinted from the crimson on the blade's tip, and the man's back seemed a trembling mass of shadow.
One hand wrapped around the cut on her arm as her other rested over her pounding heart; Gwen tried to catch her breath. She had taken lives before, in Ealdor years ago, but since then she had only witnessed death. And though she was not so innocent to think she had done wrong here, her heart began to ache.
But she swallowed down a sob; she had been gone too long already.
Dragging herself to her feet, Gwen moved quickly to the physician's quarters and gathered all that she needed, before making a hasty way back to the great hall.
She was greeted by the agitated physician and a slightly alarming looking Arthur.
"Where the hell have you been?" Arthur demanded as she neared them.
Gwen didn't meet his eyes, passing the supplies to the physician wordlessly instead. As soon as her arms were unladen, Arthur's fingers wrapped carefully around her wrist, turning her arm up for inspection. The physician bustled hurriedly away, Gwen noticed. Possibly fearful of receiving the king's wrath.
"What the hell is this?!"
"Arthur -
His forefinger and thumb were suddenly lightly holding her jaw, turning her face fully up to his. Whatever he saw in her expression frightened him as his eyes widened and then narrowed dangerously.
"Who did you meet? When this battle is done, I will hunt them -
"He's dead."
"What?"
"I... At the physician's chambers, there was a looter and I confronted him." Her hands started shaking and Arthur grasped them tight in his. "We fought and I... I killed him."
Arthur was so very still in the wake of her pronouncement that Gwen wasn't sure exactly what to do next. All she knew was that whatever adrenaline had been coursing through her, taking her to this point, it was beginning to weaken, and she felt very tremulous upon her two feet.
He shook his head as though to clear it and then transferred both her hands to one of his, using his free hand to cup her cheek. "Aside from your arm," he murmured, tilting her face to look at him again. "You're all right?"
"Shaken," she whispered, closing her eyes briefly as his thumb brushed her cheek. "But yes. Physically fine."
"Okay."
Gwen found herself held tight to Arthur's chest. His mail pressed into her cheek and the scent of sweat and metal filled her nostrils. She didn't care about the discomfort; Gwen wrapped her arms around his middle just as tightly in return. This moment of respite would not last; Gwen's hands were needed here, Arthur was needed on the front lines and she still didn't know what he was doing back here in the first place. Whether he had accomplished whatever he had come to do.
But she recognised the familiar motion as he lowered his face to kiss the top of her head, and so Gwen tipped her face up to meet him instead.
His mouth moved sweetly on hers, and Gwen mimicked him. She knew exactly what it was like to think of him out there and for him to return not whole. It was their moment of thanksgiving.
Then the kiss turned fierce. They were heedless of the eyes of those around them; aware instead of the immediacy of the possibility of loss. Gwen tasted him as desperately as Arthur tasted her, indulging this once in allowing their mouths to tell each other of their love for one another.
It was not a pleasurable kiss, too wrought with emotion and the fear of feelings that may be left unsaid. But they lived and loved in hope for the future; in endurance of the present they had created. And their task was not yet done.
So as ever, Gwen poured her faith into the stroke of her tongue, just as Arthur lent his assurance to the pressure of his lips.
When they pulled away, the hall was almost entirely silent but for the moans of those too far gone in their suffering to pay any mind to a fly, let alone their monarchs. Arthur released his hold on her as Gwen dropped her arms to her sides.
"Are you done here?" she asked softly.
Arthur nodded. "I finished almost immediately. I was only waiting for your return."
"I'm sorry to have kept you."
He snorted, and gave a half smile. "Polite as ever."
Gwen smiled weakly, and just stopped herself from fingering the ties of her token around his arm. "I'll see you when you get back." Her tone was, very purposely, not questioning.
"We have much to discuss," Arthur agreed. He brushed a curl of her hair behind her ear before turning and striding from the great hall, the doors echoing with finality behind him.
Taking a deep breath, Gwen turned to find a servant hovering with bandage in one hand and ointment in the other. "Might I tend to your arm, my lady?" she asked, sounding a little nervous.
Gwen nodded, extending her arm to the girl. There was much to be done, she needed to be at her best to do it.
---
A/N2: The Mordred excerpt:
A number of Welsh sources also refer to Medraut, usually in relation to Camlann. One triad, based on Geoffrey's Historia, provides an account of his betrayal of Arthur; in another, he is described as the author of one of the "Three Unrestrained Ravagings of the Isle of Britain" - he came to Arthur's court at Kelliwic in Cornwall, devoured all of the food and drink, and even dragged [Guinevere] from her throne and beat her."
Author: kepp0xy
Characters/Pairings: Gwen/Arthur, Merlin, Mordred, OCs
Rating/Genre: R, for violence & dark themes, UST & suggested sexuality. Also, humour, with a wee touch of crack, h/c and some romance. Definitely future!fic, beginning a year or two after A/G are married.
Spoilers/Warnings: Violence. And no spoilers.
Words: ~8300
Summary: To forge a warrior queen. Or, three times Gwen's life wasn't really in danger, and two times it was.
A/N: For the holidays, I offered my flist a card or a fic, and mancalahour asked for fic! She asked for something based on an excerpt from Wiki's page on Mordred, included at the end as it pertains to one of the situations in this piece. Many thanks to mancalahour for also acting as beta and for the gorgeous graphics she gifted me in return ♥!
This has been, by far, the most challenging fic I've ever tried to write, but it was a lot of fun to tackle, and I'm pretty pleased with the result. I hope you enjoy it :] Concrit is especially appreciated and encouraged, and all comments will be well loved.
1.
"Um, Merlin?"
"Yeah?"
"I don't mean to be a bother..."
"When are you ever, Gwen?"
"Thanks, but... It's just... I'm in the air."
"What?"
"I'm in the air."
"What do you mean, you're in the - OH! How did - What - What are you doing up there?!"
"I was actually hoping you could tell me..."
"I have no -
"Merlin, have you ever - Guinevere!"
"Hello."
"What are you doing up there?!"
"I was actually hoping Merlin could explain."
"Merlin."
"Would the two of you stop looking at me like that?"
"No."
"I'll figure it out. I just... It must have been - I guess I misread the spell, or..."
"You really shouldn't stand beneath me like that, Arthur."
"You may fall and break your neck."
"I won't let her fall!"
"If I fall, I'll only land on you and break your neck."
"I won't let you fall!"
"You don't weigh anything near enough to break my neck when you fall on me."
"I won't let her fall!"
"Sorry, Merlin. Of course I know you won't let me fall."
"Thank you."
"I don't trust you not to let Gwen fall."
"Hey!"
"You're distracting him from figuring out how to get me down."
"You're right. Merlin, practice better focus."
"Illshowyoufocus."
"What was that?"
"I said: Of course, my lord."
...
"Arthur. Are you looking up my dress?"
"No. Definitely not. What cause would I have to do that?"
"I wouldn't know. There's nothing you haven't seen before."
"True, but this is a very... interesting... new angle..."
"I thought you said you weren't looking!"
"I'm not."
"You know, perhaps you should take advantage..."
"What?"
"Well. Once I'm down, there are many things you won't be seeing for a very long time."
"Guinevere..."
"I can actually hear you two, you know. I haven't gone deaf."
"Just dumb, then."
"What? I'm speaking perfectly - oh."
"Stop distracting him, Arthur."
"It's all right, I've got it sorted."
"Wonderful, Merlin. Can you put me down somewhere Arthur can't reach me?"
"What? Why?!"
"Sure."
"Thank you."
"Er... There's no strange colouring on your fingertips is there?"
"Mmm... No..."
"Oh, good."
"... Well, I'm going to go. Thank you for the tea, Merlin. Uh, and the little floating adventure."
"Yeah, sorry about that..."
"It's all right. No strange colouring, remember. And Arthur... Good day, my lord."
"I'll see you at dinner?"
"Perhaps."
"Guinevere... Damn."
"You really shouldn't have been looking up her dress."
"Shut up, Merlin."
2.
Gwen made certain to bid the servants ensure Mordred and his companions did not lack for food or wine. It was a little unfortunate for them that they had turned up at the castle on the same day a celebration was due to take place for Leon and his new wife, but she was glad they had agreed to attend nonetheless.
The alliance they had forged with the druids was still tenuous, and many druids feared or mistrusted Camelot. It was always a relief, Gwen felt, when they came, though. That they were willing (in many ways, more willing than the non-magical people of Camelot) to try and find cause for trust, to put faith in the alliance and try to move past barriers.
Arthur pressed a quick kiss to her cheek before moving off to talk with his knights. She and Arthur always seemed to finish their suppers first at these events, and it was to them to set off amongst their guests.
Tonight, Gwen indulged herself, staying seated and watching Arthur make his way towards a knit of men beginning to stand after their meal. Some things, she thought fondly, watching as the king of Camelot made a fool of himself, acting out some fight or other to great guffaws from his men, don't change.
Her gaze slid to the druids again. They were quiet, and still looked haggard which made Gwen's heart tighten in sympathy. Where Camelot was making efforts to forge ties with magical people, some of the surrounding kingdoms were only clamping down harder against it. The druid party had not spoken of it, but Gwen could guess their journey had not been easy.
Mordred took another flagon of wine and topped up his chalice. He had not smiled upon arrival; had not even offered the weary smile of gratitude like the two others. She didn't blame him, really, it just seemed a little... Well, rude. And when she was being honest, she would admit to never having felt entirely at peace with Mordred. Gwen felt terribly about that, as he had never given her cause to distrust him. Yet, there was something about his bearing... Or, the way he had entered their lives... How he had captured Morgana's interest so instantly...
Shaking her head, she scanned the room for Margaret, or Samantha, the only two ladies whose company she genuinely enjoyed in court. Gwen laughed in sudden amusement after spotting them quickly, watching as they played a flirtatious game of cat and mouse with a pair of Arthur's newest knights.
"My lady."
With a start, Gwen redirected her gaze to find Mordred bowed before her. All she could see was the silky brown hair atop his head, making her horrified that he thought he needed to bow to her. "Come, Mordred, please stand." Gwen reached her hand forwards, intent on lifting his chin if need be. "You bow only to Arthur in this court, and only when decorum requires it."
Mordred did not look up, instead taking the hand she had reached forward between both of his own, bowing over their clasped fists. "They will blame me," he said quietly. She had sudden flashes of a little boy, lying near to death on a cot in Morgana's old chambers. "They will all blame me, and I will blame you." He was no longer such a little boy, but still too young to be speaking in a voice so grave.
"What -
"There were a hundred ways it could have unfolded," he continued, his words fast and lilting. He would have a beautiful voice, if it weren't so laden with a sudden darkness. Gwen wondered briefly if the strong scent of wine could truly be coming solely from him. It was a smell that almost engulfed her. "The two most likely, involved us."
"Mordred -
"But you... You made a choice, and somehow the rest of the paths buckled and collapsed, leaving but one." He looked up, and Gwen knew terror. She had met many people she feared or despised; she had never met anyone who had so much anger and hatred blazing so coldly in two ice eyes. "So they will all blame me. And I will blame you."
He tugged her viciously and Gwen was flying forward, reactions not quick enough to break her fall as she landed hard on her knees, sprawling down to her chest. She just caught herself before her face slammed into the rock floor, but she could feel that one of the stones had bitten sharply into her palm and it seemed her knees were on fire, the pain there was so intense.
Gwen had no chance to rise as Mordred hissed a curse and his boot connected sharply with her ribs. The pain that blazed fast was unlike anything she'd experienced.
There was no time to react. His fist slammed into her cheek - someone shouted, "The queen!" - she curled inwards. His fist pelted at her arms covering her head, and then his boots were pounding against her legs protecting her stomach.
She couldn't breathe.
She didn't understand such hatred.
As suddenly as he had appeared before her, he was gone. The void left in his wake was filled with point after point after point of her body bellowing in pain. Gwen gasped, and almost choked.
Merlin's voice was then in her ear, trying to coax her to unfurl. "Gwen, he's gone. He's restrained, Gwen, come on..."
She slowly lifted her head, and Merlin slipped a careful hand under her arm to help her into a sitting position. Every movement ached; her eye and lip were throbbing painfully, every breath was difficult. Gwen raised a weak hand to cover her heart, beating frantically as though trying to escape her chest.
"Clear the room," Arthur ordered somewhere to her left and Gwen turned her head to look at him. He was nearly quivering with fury, sword drawn, tip touching just above Mordred's heart. But the boy had no eyes for Arthur; paid him no mind. His eyes, still seeming to glow white in his hatred, were pinned unfailingly on Gwen.
"Arthur," she said urgently in sudden fear, surprised at how hoarse her voice sounded.
He was by her side in an instant, but he hesitated, crouching and clearly unsure of where he could safely touch her. When finally he looked at her face, his eyes were dark and his expression grim, even as he attempted something that may have been a reassuring smile.
"Can you walk?" he asked.
Everywhere hurt, her heart was shattered, and she desperately wanted to whimper no, to ask that he - or someone - bear her to their chambers.
But Gwen glanced at Mordred. His expression had calmed, but his eyes still sought her out, and a quick look at his fists told her he was not as subdued as he appeared.
Anger flared in her belly, weaving uncomfortably with the fear still entwined tightly around her heart. She would not allow him knowledge of how fragmented she felt.
So nodding, Gwen said, as strongly as she could, "Yes. Can you please help me up?"
Both Arthur and Merlin flanked her quickly, their hands warm and comforting beneath her arms and clasped between her fingers. Once she was on her feet, she shook them off with as much dignity as she could muster.
Only to wobble dangerously as her ankle protested in agony; she hadn't even been aware that Mordred's attack had landed there. Arthur pressed against her, one hand under her elbow, the other around her waist, but Gwen was determined.
"I'll walk," she said quietly, glancing up to find Arthur frowning disapprovingly.
"Guinevere..."
"Please, Arthur." She turned her face up to him fully and met his gaze steadily. "I'll walk."
With a heavy sigh, he carefully let her go. And when she stayed steady, Arthur turned to Leon and spoke in tones which would easily resonate through the room, "I will escort the queen to our chambers before returning to deal with him." There was a pause, and though Gwen did not turn to look, she could imagine the expression on Arthur's face as he surveyed Mordred. "Merlin, send for the physician to our chambers."
"Right away," Merlin said quickly, very gently squeezing Gwen's hand on his way out.
Expecting Arthur to simply turn back, Gwen twisted her head in surprise when he moved behind her, only to reappear on her other side. Though his frown was stern, still disapproving, it was clear he understood why she was doing this, and supported her. It did nothing to ease the agony from her body, but she felt stronger for it.
Having Arthur on her right meant Mordred had a clear view of her as she walked from the room unaided. They made their way very cautiously across the hall, and Gwen sometimes needed to slow and fight the waves of pain and resultant nausea. But as the doors closed behind them, Arthur turned to her, quickly sending his arms around her waist as she sagged in relief.
She had not shown fear to Mordred. And he would not ever overcome her.
"That was incredibly unnecessary," Arthur bit out above her. He held her gingerly, and Gwen was thankful, as she hurt absolutely everywhere. She needed the rest before she could continue on, and his chest was firm, warm, and familiar; his hold was safe.
"I couldn't let him win," she whispered back, closing her eyes for a moment. It was a little easier to breathe in the cool hallway. The aches of her body were still sharp, but a little more ignorable; it was harder to imagine the loathing in Mordred's eyes.
Arthur's sighed response was the only sound besides her harried breathing for a few moments, until Gwen stirred and made to stand again. "How best should I lift you?" Arthur asked, his hands now gripping her elbows as support while he considered her. Gwen opened her mouth to argue - she had made it this far, after all - but Arthur spoke sharply across her. "Don't tell me you're fine to walk all the way to our chambers. You're the colour of bad meat, and you're trembling like a leaf in a stiff breeze."
Gwen almost smiled. "This side is fine," she said, and only just managed to bite back a whimper when he lifted her. Her ankle throbbed angrily, she had probably made it worse, and the physician would have her head.
Better than Mordred having it. Gwen shuddered. Arthur pulled her tighter against him.
Wrapping her arms around his neck, Gwen carefully tucked her head under Arthur's chin. She took a deep breath, letting the familiarity of his musk soothe her before she asked quietly, "What will we do with him?"
"I should have him hanged," Arthur said harshly, readjusting his hold beneath her thighs slightly to pull her closer. The motion sent spikes of pain shooting through her from the bruises on her legs, but Gwen swallowed down her moan.
After the pain had passed, a small spark of agreement gnawed in the pit of her belly, but Gwen smothered it. "We can't - Morgana," she said and Arthur grunted out a gruff, "I know."
Silence fell upon them. They reached the final corridor before Gwen finally spoke again. "Banishment?" she offered in a very small voice; it was not something she had ever suggested before, something she had not ever imagined saying.
"I don't know if we really have another choice," Arthur said bitterly, stopping in front of their chambers and setting her down carefully to open the door. Gwen leaned heavily against the wall and shook her head when he went to pick her up again.
"I can walk, if you'll help me." His lips pursed, but he took hold of her elbow anyway, sending an arm around her waist and supporting her as she hobbled awkwardly into the room.
Gwen felt a strong wave of appreciation as she settled onto the made bed. One of their servants had lit the fire, burning lowly in the hearth and keeping the chill from their chambers.
She turned to Arthur in surprise - wincing at the prickling spasms the movement caused throughout her - when he settled beside her on the mattress. "You should get back," she said quickly.
"Enough bravery, Gwen," he responded gently, proudly, wrapping his arm around her and carefully pulling her against his shoulder. He tenderly kissed the top of her head, and began to stroke her lower back. "You've shown enough bravery today," he murmured into her hair.
Hearing Arthur call her brave cracked whatever control she had been holding over her emotions, and all the fear, anger, and confusion she had been ignoring went pouring viciously through her, seeming to stir aggressively against each injury. Tears burned in her eyes and her throat thickened.
At her strangled sob, Arthur twisted towards her fully, wrapping his other arm around her back and Gwen pressed herself into his hold, gripping his shirt in her fists as she wept into his chest.
-
Mordred was sent from the kingdom at dawn. Morgana's letters arrived three days later. One, a formal apology and appeasement to the court on behalf of the druid elders; the other something more heartfelt and personal addressed to Gwen.
Arthur's lips were a thin line as he passed the sealed parchment to her, and Gwen allowed herself to read it only three times before passing it back to him. Her stomach twisted as his frown only deepened, and she grasped his wrist urgently as he thoughtlessly went to throw the letter into the fire.
"She defends his actions," he snarled, only releasing the missive with Gwen's sharp tug. "She blames wine and stifling atmospheres -
"Arthur," Gwen warned, and he looked at her quickly.
Morgana's letter had stung; the way she had dismissed Mordred's actions as meaningless responses to external stimulation... Gwen could still imagine the contempt andblood lust on Mordred's face, the strength of which could only be born from harbouring - fostering - animosity. Not from a bit too much wine. She just did not understand what she could ever have done to beget such loathing; he spoke of a choice, but she could not think of any she had made that pertained to him...
And she could not simply forget his attack as Morgana asked her to. Not only were the aches and bruises still healing painfully all over her body, but Gwen dreamt of his expression, waking cold and trembling, nearly gasping down sobs. And the look on Arthur's face when he woke to find her that way, in the brief moment she could see his face before she was wrapped safely in his arms, made her heart ache.
But she had always been loyal to Morgana; always would be.
Arthur's stare remained hard and unrelenting, even as she imploringly softened her own. "I won't be swayed, Guinevere," he said firmly. "The banishment stands."
"I don't disagree," she murmured. Gwen ran her fingers lightly over the sensitive skin between his thumb and forefinger until he met her gaze again. "Just... Don't be angry with Morgana. She didn't do it, and she wasn't there."
Gwen belatedly realised that was the wrong thing to say; Arthur still ached over Morgana's absence, while Gwen had mostly come to terms with it. Thankfully after a moment, he relaxed the set of his shoulders.
"I want to be able to kiss you without fear of hurting you," he murmured pensively, reaching forwards as though to touch her lips with his fingertips before dropping his arm to her waist and pulling her against him. She could feel how his arms created a careful cradle around her, where he would have held her flush against him previously.
"Mmm, now you know my frustration when you come home injured from battle," she said lightly, trying to create some levity.
The pause was brief before he snorted above her. "Let's keep it as your annoyance," he said, trying - and failing - to sound nonchalant.
She carefully kissed his chest through the material of his shirt in response. Not only for Arthur's sake, but for her own, for the kingdom, Gwen began thinking of ways to prevent ever feeling so helpless again.
1.
His chest was warm beneath her cheek as she settled into his side, stretching her arm across his stomach to tickle at his hand resting next to him. Arthur turned his head slightly, pressing a quick kiss onto her forehead before whispering a firm, "Good night, Guinevere."
With a reluctant sigh, Gwen offered her own, more lingering, kiss to his flesh beneath her cheek before murmuring her own good-night.
It wasn't long after the warm darkness of sleep engulfed her that she awoke as someone took hold of her hand, stretched off behind her back. It took a moment for Gwen to realise the only person who would take her hand was still lying, snoring boisterously, beneath her, and the delay in thought was too much.
Whoever it was dragged her quickly from the bed before she managed more than a strangled, "Arthur!"
Gwen tried not to think about how familiar and chilling it was to feel a blade edge at her throat; how much she hated seeing Arthur spring from the bed, clothed only in trousers, to discover his wife in the arms of some mystery attacker; or how the urge to strike her elbow sharply into the person's midriff was growing as rapidly as her anger, and only matched by the fear that kept her from doing it.
Her only solace was the attacker had only been able to capture one of her hands; Gwen wrapped her free hand tight around the person's wrist and tried to pull the blade away from her throat. It was little use; whoever they were, they were stronger than she was, but Gwen kept her fingers strained around their wrist.
Arthur's expression proved little comfort as his eyes moved fast, assessing the situation, but apparently finding little encouragement. "What fear, Arthur Pendragon," the person said, and Gwen was startled by the higher, female voice of the speaker.
"What do you want?" he asked, taking slow, deliberate steps to bring him ever closer. Gwen fidgeted a little, but the woman only tugged Gwen's arm higher - painfully - up her back, nudging Gwen's throat with her blade. It was nearly impossible for her to swallow.
"What is it anyone seeks from the Pendragon house?" the woman asked, and unexpectedly Gwen detected the desperation beneath her tone. She wondered vaguely if the woman expected to survive this encounter. "Revenge... Retribution... To see you suffer as I have."
Gwen met Arthur's gaze with a slightly raised brow and Arthur shook his head nearly imperceptibly. "We don't know what you're talking about," Gwen rasped, trying again to push the woman's hand away from her throat.
"No. You wouldn't, my lady," the woman said. She rubbed her jaw against Gwen's head and Gwen only just managed to suppress a shudder. "Cloistered away in the castle grounds... No real insight of her husband on the battlefield."
"I don't believe Arthur is anything but gallant in war," Gwen gasped as firmly as possible, taking heart in the way something flashed in Arthur's eyes. The situation could not be lost if he still responded to her faith in him. His jaw was clenched tightly, as were his fists at his sides, but he continued to stalk towards them.
The woman laughed and dragged Gwen back a step. "Ah, peasant queen," she said, and Gwen bristled at the condescending affection, and mockery. It had been a term lost even to the most haughty of nobles, as Gwen had long since proven herself to them. "So naive. Your king is murdering scum."
"Enough!" Arthur snapped. "How do you intend to take your vengeance?"
It took Gwen a moment to realise that Arthur was trying to delay the woman. The sting on her throat was enough answer in her opinion, but watching Arthur's eyes flick desperately as the woman raved passionately behind her, Gwen began to wonder if it wasn't something she could do.
"And so, with the loss of your wife," the woman was saying, once Gwen had finished assessing her position. "You will understand your misdeed."
The woman stiffened behind her, preparing, and Gwen met Arthur's gaze.
"Gwen - !"
Her attacker was laughing, no doubt thinking Arthur's exclamation had been one of desperate fear. She was right, partially, but Gwen also heard the desperate warning, plea, command - don't do what I think you're going to!
But she had to try. She would not spend her last moments watching her husband become drenched in her blood.
Just in case...
"I love you," she murmured.
"Gwen - ! No!"
Stomping her heel down heavily on the woman's foot, Gwen wrenched her head to the right and back so the blade, when it slid across her skin with the woman's jolt of surprise, could only nick the side of her neck. Gwen tried to twist her body away, but the woman's hand had somehow tightened on the wrist she held pinned to Gwen's back.
The distraction was enough for Arthur. Gwen couldn't be sure what he did, but after a terrified beat in which she thought she'd failed, her arm was free and she was staggering away. Just as she'd lowered herself to the floor, trying to calm her trembling, there was a muffled whimper behind her, and a heavy thump.
Before she could turn to look at the attacker's lifeless body, Arthur was suddenly surrounding her. She was cradled against his chest before she knew what was happening, and she wrapped her arms around his middle, pressing her face into the crook of his arm.
"You're all right?" he asked fearfully, tightening his hold around her until she nearly found it difficult to breathe. She was shocked that he trembled slightly as he brushed his jaw along the top of her head.
Gwen took a shuddering breath, nodding awkwardly, her cheek and forehead grazing his chest. "My neck stings," she admitted and Arthur's hand rose to stroke down her head.
"If that's all, then we'll deal with that in a minute," he murmured, sounding a bit relieved, and she closed her eyes as he pressed lingering kisses into her scalp. They were silent for a time before Arthur's breath caught, and then he stiffened, and Gwen recognised the signs for his coming anger. "You could have died," he said tightly above her.
She wanted to argue, to tell him no, I was always going to be fine but it simply was not true. And that frightened her. So it was she who stroked soothingly down his back now; held him close to show him she was all right, that she was right there, always would be.
And in those moments, Gwen came to her decision.
After he had begun to relax, she whispered, "I want to learn to fight."
He tensed again instantly, and Gwen could feel the motion of his neck twisting as he shook his head above her. "Absolutely not."
"Arthur -
"Guinevere -
"I would learn it from you, or find someone who will teach me," she said, in the tone of voice she had learned would show Arthur she meant exactly what she said and would not accept otherwise.
And this was something she had been considering for some time; as queen, it seemed, she attracted far more hostility than she had ever expected. And Arthur, Merlin, or a knight assigned to guard her could not always be near. And even when they were, sometimes they would not be enough. As proven tonight. As proven in a room full of nobles and servants when Mordred began his attack.
Another short pause, before Arthur said halfheartedly, "I will ban anyone from teaching you."
"And there would still be one knight willing to train me in secret," she replied quickly.
At his silence, Gwen pulled out of his hold to look at him. It was a bit of a struggle; Arthur was not keen to let her go. "But I want you to do it," she whispered. His nostrils flared, and she could still see the terror in his eyes that broke her heart and fanned the fear still twisting her own stomach. Gwen slipped her hand along his neck, settling just behind his ear, stroking her fingers into the hair at his nape, her thumb across his cheek. "Who is there better?" she asked, with a soft smile.
Arthur didn't smile back; he watched her, frown slowly starting to crease his brow as he accepted her decision. With a sigh, he dropped her gaze, only to have his expression become stormier as his eyes found her neck.
"We'll discuss this later," he said definitively, his finger gently brushing against her neck. When he brought his hand between them, Gwen's stomach twisted at the blood staining his fingertips. Arthur stood quickly and offered her his hand. "We have other things to deal with now."
It was the concession she needed; she managed to keep herself from shaking as they stepped over the body of the woman and out into the corridor to discover their guard also slain. Gwen's eyes flashed to Arthur's face, his jaw tightening, a flash of sorrow in his eyes, but he tugged her on towards the physician's chambers.
3.
The sound of steel against steel clanged loudly, followed by the grating of a sword sliding down another. There was a scuffle of feet, and a loud cry from Gwen's throat as she forced her weight behind her blow.
The door slammed open to reveal a frightened servant, a heavy candelabra thrust before him with a trembling hand, clearly preparing to try and defend his queen.
Arthur let out a heavy sigh, dropping his sword-hand, and Gwen offered the valiant servant an appreciative quirk of her lips as he lowered the candelabra.
"King Arthur, Queen Guinevere..." the servant greeted uncertainly, standing awkwardly by the door.
Gwen smiled through her heavy panting. "I'm sorry to have distressed you, Alric," she said graciously. "We're only practicing."
Alric stared at her blankly for a moment before looking to Arthur for confirmation. "It's true," he conceded unhappily. "Can you spread the word around, actually? You're the thirteenth person to come in here, worried for the queen's safety." Arthur tilted his head, a bit bemused, then gestured to the candelabra still clutched in the man's hand. "Which - thank you. For that."
"Of course, my lord," Alric said. Gwen's smile broadened; Alric was a good man, and she knew he had his eye on serving Merlin when the day came that Merlin finally admitted he needed the help. Alric dipped quickly into a bow to her, saying, "my lady," before shuffling out and shutting the door behind him.
After he'd gone, Gwen looked back at Arthur. His lips were a thin line and his eyebrow was raised expectantly. Gwen tried to look innocent.
Arthur blew out an exasperated breath before rolling his eyes. "Honestly, Guinevere," he said, tone somewhat clipped. "You're usually as quiet as a mouse and so unassuming. I've never heard you this loud."
"Hmm... That's not entirely true..." responded Gwen thoughtfully, sliding her feet into position and slowly raising her sword. "You have heard me this loud - frequently, actually ... Just, it's generally only after night has fallen."
She laughed in delight at his expression. He'd frozen, brows raised in shock. It was normally he who made comments which alluded to their bedroom habits, and she who would be feeling the heat rise to her cheeks as the blush was now appearing on his. She couldn't exactly name what it was; the powerful thrill of wielding a blade, or of being so close to Arthur as he moved in an element in which he had such great skill, or of feeling her body being pushed to the brink, tested to its limits... But she felt so bold with her heart thudding excitedly in her chest.
He blinked after a moment, shaking his head a little dazedly, and cleared his throat. "I don't know what I was thinking, falling in love with you," he muttered, raising his own sword and nudging the point of hers playfully to show he was only teasing. "Most queens would happily do embroidery. My wife decides she must learn the sword."
"Daughter of a blacksmith," she reminded him lightly. At his snort, she nudged his sword with hers, and hopped back as he lunged towards her.
The spar was for Arthur to get an idea of her skill level, as she told him that Morgana, and a couple of knights who used to be in her father's patronage had taught her a few things. Her body was already protesting, unaccustomed to being used in these ways, but she was determined to see the afternoon through. Arthur had set the time aside especially for this; she would not waste the opportunity.
After his test was over, Gwen was nearly fighting collapse; she wondered if being crowned had made her too complacent, if, in her days as maidservant, she would have handled this exertion better. Arthur passed her a cup of water with a small grin on his face.
"Had enough?"
"No," she said stubbornly, after quickly swallowing the entire cup's contents. He cocked a brow and Gwen felt her cheeks heat. "I'm fine," she insisted, setting the cup aside and lifting the practice sword again. "What will we do next?"
Arthur studied her for a moment before reaching around her fingers and tugging the sword free from her grasp. "No more with these," he said, looking at her over his shoulder as he set both swords against the wall. "Now it's time to fix your posture."
Gwen straightened, preparing herself to imitate him. The first posture was relatively simple; a basic preparatory stance she had seen him mimic dozens of times at tournaments. He had her hold it, however, until her arm was trembling from being raised for so long. Gwen was silently thankful Arthur had taken away their swords.
The next was defensive, and though Arthur demonstrated it several times, Gwen blamed her fatigue for the fact that she couldn't quite grasp it.
"You're almost there," Arthur told her, moving up behind her. "But the way you are now leaves you open on your right. You've got to hold your arm more like this." His hand slid the length of her arm, linking with her fingers and guiding her into the right position.
"Oh," she breathed.
She also blamed her tiredness for the fact that she was extremely aware of the heat of Arthur against her back, of the callouses on his palm holding her hand, of his breath breezing her shoulder. If she wasn't already so familiar with his physicality, Gwen would have been embarrassed.
"I see now."
His other hand lightly grasped her hip, applying gentle pressure and twisting her body. "And your feet have to spread a bit more, to balance your hips," he murmured, brushing his chin against her neck as he observed her.
There was a short pause. Then Gwen almost jumped, almost moaned, almost collapsed, when Arthur's lips dusted her pulse point. "If I stop entertaining the terrifying thought of you actually using these skills against an opponent intending serious harm," he began, slowly letting the hand on her hip stroke to her stomach. "I find myself..."
Gwen turned her head towards him slightly; his nose brushed her cheek, his breath flitted along her jaw. She suddenly found herself panting, and she couldn't tell if it was from the physical strain of holding herself this way, or because Arthur was being so unexpectedly sensual.
"You find yourself?" she prompted quietly after the pause had sustained for some time. His breathing seemed loud in her ear, his fingers curled down between hers to stroke her palm and his hand tensed against her abdomen. Her heart began to pound, and the flush on her cheeks flared as she so easily envisioned Arthur entirely unclothed.
Just as he inhaled in a purposeful way, Gwen's thigh shook noticeably. Arthur straightened, his hands dropping away, and Gwen swallowed a whimper of protest as she stiffly moved to stand properly. She wouldn't have been able to enjoy anything anyway, in her present state.
"Take a long, hot bath," Arthur advised, moving off to collect their swords. "Every day until your muscles don't ache any longer. And you ought to stretch and practice the postures." Gwen nodded, pouring herself another cup of cold water before they left. No amount of willing it seemed to slow her fluttering heart, though, and the water did little to cool her hot blood.
"And Guinevere," Arthur continued, voice now a bit gruff. When she turned to him, his eyes were dark and his expression hungry. "Be sure to tell me the day you wake up in perfect health. We'll clear the following morning of obligation and I expect to return that night to find you dressed in those trousers and shirt."
Gwen held his gaze for long enough that Arthur's expression turned a little worried before she inclined her head and lifted the corner of her lips in a half smile. "In turn, I expect you to return wearing your long coat with Excalibur on your hip," she murmured, surprised to hear her voice so rough.
Demands never really sat well on her tongue, but she thought that if she were to lift a piece of tinder between them now, it would catch fire from the look he was giving her. And by the stiff way he nodded, obviously loath to break eye contact, Gwen assumed she watched Arthur with much the same expression.
2.
"My lady! At least call for a knight -
"Is there time for that?"
The physician's silence was answer enough, and Gwen completed her turn, heading purposefully away from him. Near the door, a sword was abandoned on the cobbles beside a moaning knight who held his stomach, blood trickling distressingly quickly through his fingers. Gwen paused briefly to brush her fingers across his brow - silent thanks for his sacrifice, as she has learned these past years to recognize those who would not last the night - before she stooped to collect the sword and strode out of the great hall.
She missed Gaius. On the days when Arthur had an injury or the irritating nights she couldn't sleep because of a fever, or even when she saw an elderly man in the towns with similar stature, or with a crooked brow but a light smile. But mostly she missed him in times like these. When he would not even have given a perfunctory protest - were she queen or not. He had known her better than that.
And in any case, the physician's chambers were mere minutes from the great hall. It would be a very quick trip to collect him the supplies he required; unlikely to draw trouble as the fighting had not yet reached the keep.
Would hopefully never reach the keep, she prayed silently, to whichever gods were listening.
She had only taken the sword as a precaution - because Arthur would be angry enough with her (though trying valiantly to hide it) for leaving without a guard, and she was not keen to see his reaction if she had also failed to bring some form of defence with her.
A small part of her feared his reaction were she to have cause to use the sword, but she was absolutely confident there would be no reason to.
Until she finally reached the physician's chambers to find his door wide open. With anyone else, in this crisis time, it would not have been a surprise. But Gwen secretly believed that even if the sky was falling, their physician still would lock his stores and bolt his doors.
Gwen moved to the side of the door, and pressed her back to the wall before cautiously peering in. At first, she thought that it had been a simple mistake. That indeed his rush had been so great that he hadn't the time to close up as he normally would have.
But relief was fleeting; there was a hiss, and then flames flared on a match tip as the hulking figure of a man set light to a candle wick. In the dim light, Gwen thought that perhaps she recognised him from a stall in the grimmer side of the market. And if she was right, she could imagine exactly to what purpose the stolen supplies would go.
Indignation flared as he moved towards the physician's medicinal stores and Gwen stepped fully into the door, raising her sword for all the good it would do in this dim light, and said, "Stop."
The man froze, turning slowly to face her. He kept the candle a careful distance from his face, ensuring she could not make out his features clearly. And it was only then that her heart began to pound and fear rushed fast through her veins. Whatever this man was doing here, it was obviously initiated with no good in mind. And this was no normal situation; in war times, Arthur had told her and she had witness firsthand, status began to mean less and less. Particularly once the pillaging began.
Gwen just never thought the pillaging would start before the situation even reached dire.
The pause was brief before Gwen heard a chortle. "Is that you, my lady?" he asked, sounding amused and surprised.
"Yes," she responded, straightening her shoulders and evening her stance. "Take your leave."
"Oh-ho-ho!" He took a couple of steps towards her, and Gwen carefully backed away. She was relieved when she felt the edge of the stair, able to step back into the central courtyard, rather than fall backwards. "I respectfully refuse, my lady. This opportunity is too ripe."
"Ripe for what?" Gwen asked, proud that her tones did not waver. As he moved out of the alcove and into the square with her, Gwen was able to see him clearly in the bright moonlight flooding the kingdom. A small measure of relief moved through her; he was far smaller than she had initially thought, and though certainly still bigger than her, possibly someone she could best in a fight.
If it came to that.
"Your highness would be a great asset in bargaining for our attackers," the man said, grinning toothily. "And I could finally leave this hellhole with the coin I'd score in presenting you to them."
"I will not go with you," said Gwen firmly, stopping mid-courtyard to center herself. "But you will certainly leave this place."
"With you, I will," he agreed, raising his hands peaceably. "Let's not play games, you won't fight me."
Gwen had never in her life uttered a threat before, and certainly Arthur had not taken the time to teach her any. But Gwen was nothing if not willing to try. "I won't," she said, proud that the tremble remained in her belly and did not infect her voice. "Unless you give me cause of it."
His laughter rang out, bouncing back at her from the castle walls. For a minute, it stirred her fear, but as it continued, Gwen began to find it obnoxious. And before she knew it, each chuckle ignited her anger, and then added tinder until it was blazing in her chest.
"Leave me, or raise your sword," she said lowly, bending her knees in preparation.
His laughter abruptly died and the man drew the blade from his belt. "You are worth very little dead," he said, sounding almost disappointed.
Gwen let the pause hang heavy between them, satisfied when he shifted a little uneasily. And with that shift, his elbow dropped, and Gwen lunged forward.
Their swords clashed so loudly it hurt her ears. He stepped forwards; Gwen stepped to the side dropping her sword arm slightly so the man stumbled.
He was quick to turn and parry her next blow. Each of her attacks went blocked, until her foot slipped a little and the man went on the aggressive.
His blade swung down from high above her, and if only she was a little faster, Gwen could have made use of the opening to his gut. Instead she could only dodge back, flitting forwards again with his swing back.
She drew first blood. A prick to his thigh when she had aimed for his stomach. It was something though, and Gwen had seen the fear flash in his eyes. Sudden worry that perhaps she would not go down so easily.
Not at all, she thought fiercely.
The gust of a near hit blew icy against her throat. Gwen ducked; Arthur had drilled into her that her greatest asset was her lightness. A scuffle of slipper and her sword nicked his middle just as his sliced shallowly along her arm.
They moved away from one another. She felt no pain on her arm, not yet, only a chill where she had begun to bleed. But he was beginning to look weary, panting heavily and obviously trying hard not to clutch at the gouge on his belly, though to her eyes, the wound on his leg was bleeding the worse.
He looked about to speak, but Gwen had little patience for taunts. She ran at him, feinting left at the last moment and swinging her sword towards his ribs. She had far more force than expected, and her sword dragged her back, causing her to stumble and fall to her knees.
She held fast to the blade, trying to use her momentum to carry her around. The man bore down on her; she saw his shadow from the corner of her eye. She rolled to her back, bracing the hilt against the ground and pointing the tip to the night sky as she kicked hard at his knees so that he fell forwards.
His weight impaled him solidly on the sword's blade, a terrified howl wrenching from his lips, and Gwen rolled away just as his first bloody cough wracked his body.
Without her support, man and blade fell sideways. Moonlight glinted from the crimson on the blade's tip, and the man's back seemed a trembling mass of shadow.
One hand wrapped around the cut on her arm as her other rested over her pounding heart; Gwen tried to catch her breath. She had taken lives before, in Ealdor years ago, but since then she had only witnessed death. And though she was not so innocent to think she had done wrong here, her heart began to ache.
But she swallowed down a sob; she had been gone too long already.
Dragging herself to her feet, Gwen moved quickly to the physician's quarters and gathered all that she needed, before making a hasty way back to the great hall.
She was greeted by the agitated physician and a slightly alarming looking Arthur.
"Where the hell have you been?" Arthur demanded as she neared them.
Gwen didn't meet his eyes, passing the supplies to the physician wordlessly instead. As soon as her arms were unladen, Arthur's fingers wrapped carefully around her wrist, turning her arm up for inspection. The physician bustled hurriedly away, Gwen noticed. Possibly fearful of receiving the king's wrath.
"What the hell is this?!"
"Arthur -
His forefinger and thumb were suddenly lightly holding her jaw, turning her face fully up to his. Whatever he saw in her expression frightened him as his eyes widened and then narrowed dangerously.
"Who did you meet? When this battle is done, I will hunt them -
"He's dead."
"What?"
"I... At the physician's chambers, there was a looter and I confronted him." Her hands started shaking and Arthur grasped them tight in his. "We fought and I... I killed him."
Arthur was so very still in the wake of her pronouncement that Gwen wasn't sure exactly what to do next. All she knew was that whatever adrenaline had been coursing through her, taking her to this point, it was beginning to weaken, and she felt very tremulous upon her two feet.
He shook his head as though to clear it and then transferred both her hands to one of his, using his free hand to cup her cheek. "Aside from your arm," he murmured, tilting her face to look at him again. "You're all right?"
"Shaken," she whispered, closing her eyes briefly as his thumb brushed her cheek. "But yes. Physically fine."
"Okay."
Gwen found herself held tight to Arthur's chest. His mail pressed into her cheek and the scent of sweat and metal filled her nostrils. She didn't care about the discomfort; Gwen wrapped her arms around his middle just as tightly in return. This moment of respite would not last; Gwen's hands were needed here, Arthur was needed on the front lines and she still didn't know what he was doing back here in the first place. Whether he had accomplished whatever he had come to do.
But she recognised the familiar motion as he lowered his face to kiss the top of her head, and so Gwen tipped her face up to meet him instead.
His mouth moved sweetly on hers, and Gwen mimicked him. She knew exactly what it was like to think of him out there and for him to return not whole. It was their moment of thanksgiving.
Then the kiss turned fierce. They were heedless of the eyes of those around them; aware instead of the immediacy of the possibility of loss. Gwen tasted him as desperately as Arthur tasted her, indulging this once in allowing their mouths to tell each other of their love for one another.
It was not a pleasurable kiss, too wrought with emotion and the fear of feelings that may be left unsaid. But they lived and loved in hope for the future; in endurance of the present they had created. And their task was not yet done.
So as ever, Gwen poured her faith into the stroke of her tongue, just as Arthur lent his assurance to the pressure of his lips.
When they pulled away, the hall was almost entirely silent but for the moans of those too far gone in their suffering to pay any mind to a fly, let alone their monarchs. Arthur released his hold on her as Gwen dropped her arms to her sides.
"Are you done here?" she asked softly.
Arthur nodded. "I finished almost immediately. I was only waiting for your return."
"I'm sorry to have kept you."
He snorted, and gave a half smile. "Polite as ever."
Gwen smiled weakly, and just stopped herself from fingering the ties of her token around his arm. "I'll see you when you get back." Her tone was, very purposely, not questioning.
"We have much to discuss," Arthur agreed. He brushed a curl of her hair behind her ear before turning and striding from the great hall, the doors echoing with finality behind him.
Taking a deep breath, Gwen turned to find a servant hovering with bandage in one hand and ointment in the other. "Might I tend to your arm, my lady?" she asked, sounding a little nervous.
Gwen nodded, extending her arm to the girl. There was much to be done, she needed to be at her best to do it.
---
A/N2: The Mordred excerpt:
A number of Welsh sources also refer to Medraut, usually in relation to Camlann. One triad, based on Geoffrey's Historia, provides an account of his betrayal of Arthur; in another, he is described as the author of one of the "Three Unrestrained Ravagings of the Isle of Britain" - he came to Arthur's court at Kelliwic in Cornwall, devoured all of the food and drink, and even dragged [Guinevere] from her throne and beat her."