Merlin: Desperate Measures 3/?

[niklovr]

Part Three

Gwen looked around the healer's quarters. She could not count the number of times she had found comfort within these walls. Gaius was more than the Court Physician and an advisor to the throne. He was her friend. Although she had not called his loyalty to be questioned while under Morgana's power, she still harbored some remorse at her behavior. As she chewed her bottom lip, she began to subconsciously rub her torso and marvel at how those closest to her had the kindness and the courage to forgive her.

"I'm sorry to keep you waiting," Gaius said, closing the door behind him. "A simple exchange became more than I expected. I should have known better. Elinor likes to chat."

Gwen nodded. Her former neighbor had quite a reputation for commentary. "That she does."

He set a bunch of fresh herbs on the shelf and smiled at her. "Would you like some tea? Please have a seat, my lady. It has been too long since you graced my home with your presence."

"Oh, Gaius." She sat at table and watched as he set water to boil. Although he was one of the oldest members of the kingdom, she could not help but marvel at his agility. "Are you doing well?"

"I was about to ask the same of you." He gave her a friendly once over. "This isn't a social visit, is it?"

She lowered her gaze to pluck at the folds of her red skirt. The fabric was velvety, soft beneath her fingertips. Marriage to Arthur had changed her life in so many ways. Expensive clothing was just one of them. Sometimes, it felt like her previous life as a servant happened to another girl in another lifetime. But if the truth were told, she'd never forget the past. Deep at heart, she would always be a blacksmith's daughter.

"Gwen?"

"I'm afraid…" She swallowed hard as she raised her head to meet Gaius' worried stare. "No, I am not afraid. I'm…concerned and unsure."

"What is the matter?"

She pulled Tarran's bottle of prevention from her pocket and handed it to him. He promptly popped the cork and sniffed the contents. A frown added more wrinkles to his brow.

"Lametto," he said. "I trust you know what this is for."

"Yes, I've used it for several years now."

He nodded. "Ah, I see."

"However, I have been remiss of late, and… I am concerned about taking it now."

His frown faded. He tried to conceal it, but Gwen noted that a spark of interest danced in his pale eyes. A hint of a smile played at the corners of his mouth. Then the sound of boiling water set him into action. He fixed their tea and to her mild amusement, he returned to regard her with fondness.

"I'm not saying that I know for certain." She dare not get their hopes up. Yet, if anyone would know, it would be the physician.

"Have you missed your monthly?" He pulled a chair and sat across from her.

"Um…no. Wait. I am late, but since everything that has happened, I have not been regular."

"How off have you been?" he asked.

She shrugged. The past six months had been a fog. Intimacy with Arthur had been sporadic at best. She had wanted to be a dutiful wife, but since he did not demand it of her… Well, letting go of the past had been hard. The release of the enchantment had been far easier than the letting go of all the pain and hurt her actions had caused. Even knowing that Morgana had been the cause wasn't enough for Gwen to extract herself of the guilt. So keeping track of her monthly issue other than recognizing that it wasn't nearly as consistent as it had once been became the least of her worries. She simply did not give it too much concern.

"I cannot say exactly. Perhaps a day or two."

"At the most?" he asked.

"I believe so. Perhaps three."

"May I?" He extended his hand toward her.

She nodded.

Gaius pressed his hand against her abdomen. Still flat, she wondered what he could determine at this stage. If a child had been conceived on the outing with Arthur a few weeks ago, surely it would not be noticeable now.

"How is your appetite?"

"About the same?" She wished she could be more forthcoming, but she was too unsure. Dare she hope for it to be true? How would Arthur respond? He was so adamant about forgoing the risk. They were happy again. She did not want to trade their happiness for anything.

"Really?"

"Well, there's a problem with apples and this morning with eggs. I usually love eggs, but I could not swallow a bite this morning."

"Do not take any more lametto." Gaius pulled his hand away and reached for his tea.

"But Arthur…" She bit her lip.

"What about Arthur?"

"Am I with child?"

"It would seem so," Gaius said.

She stood abruptly. Her footsteps took her to the small, raised window. From this distance, she could hear the bustle of Camelot and the laughter of children. For so many years, she had longed to hear the joy of hers and Arthur's child. Could it really happen now? So soon after Morgana's treachery?

"But are you certain?"

"Fairly so," he said. "The lametto is a preventive measure. It can do nothing for you now."

"Will it harm," she paused to place her hand against her, "the baby?"

"It could."

"Would you mind if I left it here with you?"

"No." He took the bottle from her and then placed it among his other remedies. "Now, will you tell me about Arthur? It's his desire that you take lametto."

She nodded. "His mother died in childbirth."

"I know," Gaius said quietly. "I was there."

"He's afraid it could happen to me."

"There were circumstances to his birth… This is different. Besides, what about an heir?"

"He doesn't care about an heir." She folded her arms around herself. "He doesn't want to risk losing me again."

The older man sighed. "There's some Uther in him after all."

"Don't Gaius." A chill ran through her at the thought. "He's not like his father."

"He's letting fear control him." He joined her at the window. "I can be with you when you tell him."

"That won't be necessary."

"Are you sure?"

She nodded. "Yes."

AG*AG

The morning's training session was less than stellar. Arthur barked orders and the knights responded either too quickly or too slowly for his peace of mind. Having them bloodied on the training field would do Camelot no good and taking out his frustrations on them was not only unfair but also unworthy of their dedication. Far sooner than usual, he called a halt to the proceedings and ordered them to report to their assigned posts after having their wounds tended. Their collective sighs of relief did not go unnoticed.

As he headed away from the training grounds, he saw the familiar figure of his wife in the distance. She walked with one of the guards into town. A mixture of joy and guilt filled him as he released a deep sigh. He watched until she left his view, feasting on her regal gait and innocent beauty even from this distance. Upsetting her pained him and that's exactly what he did last night. Ordering her about like a brute. Like his father. Like Uther.

The thought made his flesh crawl. He stormed into the castle. Deep in thought, he paid no heed to the servants who tried to pretend that they were unaware of his mood and he blatantly ignored the loud grumbling of Merlin who brought up the rear. As he stepped into his chambers, Arthur couldn't take off his armor fast enough. Only then did he notice how Merlin stood a few paces from him and simply stared.

"Are you a simpleton? Help me!"

"Yes, sire."

They worked together and finally Arthur was free of the metal protection and the chainmail. Before he could voice his next thought, Merlin appeared with water for bathing, soap, and a towel.

"Would you prefer a bath?"

Dumbstruck, Arthur just shook his head.

"I'll get a rush on lunch-"

"Merlin, wait."

He paused at the door. Like the knights, he seemed eager to vacate Arthur's presence, too. And Arthur didn't blame him one bit.

"There's no rush. I'll eat when Guinevere returns."

"Very well." He picked up the armor and chainmail. "I'll go clean these. Unless you need me?"

"Go ahead."

As the door closed, Arthur was grateful that for once Merlin did not revert to his usual stream of idle prattle. He had bitten enough heads off on the training grounds. He did not want to add more to the list.

The cool water against his hot flesh did much to soothe his restless spirit. Guinevere's request unnerved him. Years ago, he had voiced his concerns about childbirth and its perils and she told him she understood. Tarran was a childhood friend of her parents. It was known that she provided tinctures for such matters and her connection to Guinevere guaranteed her discretion. He supposed that he foolishly believed that was all that was required. A willing wife and a remedy.

"Fool," he muttered under his breath.

He dried off and donned fresh clothing. Once dressed, he felt a sudden urge to move. His long strides took him deep within the castle. The steps were familiar. The path was one he'd often use when he was a boy. Before Morgana arrived, he would find solace within the quiet, tranquil walls of his mother's final resting place. He imagined the warmth and acceptance of Ygraine's unconditional love and since Uther was never as generous with his affection, Arthur craved that imaginary maternal care so desperately.

At the threshold, he paused to take a breath. How long had it been since his last visit? He could not remember. Morgana's treachery kept him occupied and Guinevere's recovery was always his main concern. But in truth, his mother was never far from his mind. He would always miss not having her in his life.

The crypt had a calming influence over him. It was strange, Arthur decided. How could a space that contained death grant him such peace? Yet, it did. He headed straight to her tomb. The stone structure was quite ornate in its design. Roses and ivy adorned the border in intricate detail. No doubt Uther found the best artisan in Camelot for his beloved's eternal bed.

Air lodged in Arthur's throat. He had to cough to catch his breath. His beloved's eternal bed. That was it. His knees weakened and he leaned against the stone for support. To mourn his mother was one thing, but to mourn Guinevere…

Just to have an heir? The risk hardly seemed worth it.

Yet, how her eyes lit up at the suggestion. He could not deny how she was drawn to children. How the mention of a baby made her smile. How the sound of a child's laugh would make her pause mid-sentence to listen. Was he right to refute her wishes because he feared the loss of her? Because he could not imagine loving a child that took her away from him? Because deep inside of him, he was very much his father's son?

"Mother, I wish you were here," he said quietly. "I don't want to be like him."

A short while later he left the mausoleum. The answers he had sought were not given, but he felt less tightly wound. Still in need of solitude he went onto the roof for fresh air. Not long after the distinct scent of lavender drifted in the breeze. He turned with a smile to find his wife staring at him.

"I don't bite."

Dusky rose colored her cheeks as she said, "That's not always true."

He grinned back at her. "Indeed, it's not." He extended his hand. "Come."

Her smaller hand slid against his in a perfect fit. Soon, her head rested against his arm. "This is a lovely view."

"Not nearly as lovely as you."

"You flatter me."

"I speak the truth."

He kissed her forehead. Then he settled his hands at her waist and drew her to him. "I'm sorry about last night."

"You don't have to apologize."

"Yes, I do."

He hugged her close. She trembled in his grasp so he tightened his hold.

"I don't know what I'd do if lost you."

"Don't you know that I fear the same?" she asked.

"I know."

"Arthur, I-"

"Guinevere-"

They both laughed softly. Their holds loosened as they stepped back a space. Arthur looked down into her beautiful brown eyes. She smiled up at him.

"You go first," she said.

"There's something I wanted to talk to you about, but I could never find the right time or the right words."

She regarded him with a smile. "You needn’t find special words for me, Arthur. What is it?"

Arthur took Guinevere's hands. "Morgana…what do you remember about her enchantment?"

Her smile faltered. "Morgana?"

"Yes." He reached out and cupped her face. "I'm sorry. I thought enough time… Forget I asked."

"No, don't." She pressed her hand against his. "No apology, please. You wish to know about what Morgana did to me?"

Words lodged in his throat, but he managed to say, "Yes. If you wish to tell me."

"I do not wish to tell anyone." Her expressive eyes clouded with sadness. "No one should know such horrors."

"Then you should tell me." He bent down until they were eye level. "I'm your husband. You give me the horror and you will not bear it any longer."

"No, Arthur. You don't know…" Her eyes brimmed with tears. "You do not know. You do not want to know."

"Yes, I do," he said, wiping her tears as they rolled down her cheeks. "Release it to me, Guinevere. Release it to me."

"Very well, my lord," she said in a hoarse whisper. "I will release it to you."