Merlin: Desperate Measures 2/?
Part Two
Arthur quelled the urge to pace by walking purposely to the bedroom window. The position afforded him a view of the courtyard and the comings and goings of the castle. Even now, a few knights milled around a baker's wagon. Children chased a chicken into a corner. The bird's indignant squawking alerted a rotund man who grabbed the prey with one hand as he waved the young ones away with the other. Arthur smiled at the antics and became aware of how tense he'd become.
If he were a cursing man, he would have muttered an oath at himself. He really should be relaxed. Calm. Content. Close to three weeks had passed since the blessed outing with Guinevere. Since then, she had blossomed. Light danced in her eyes. Smiles came easy to her full lips. When she touched him, he knew her caresses came from her need for him and not a misguided sense of obligation or an attempt to pretend that melancholy had released her from a state of distress. Finally, he had his wife back. Morgana had not been victorious in that regard.
The clunky sound of armor on wood pulled him from his reverie. He tore his gaze from the window, but not his worries as he regarded his long-time manservant.
"Merlin-"
"Arthur, staring out the window won't bring her back any faster. You don't have to worry about her anymore."
"I wasn't…"
Arthur's denial faded. The other man knew him too well for the words to have any effect anyway. He joined Merlin at the table and assembled the latest maps of the Five Kingdoms into a full display of the region and tried to focus again.
"She's in good hands with Leon and Mordred," Merlin continued. The swishing of rag on metal marked his words. "Besides, she just went to the lower town. It's her first trip there in months and the people love her. Nothing will happen to her."
Arthur listened in silence. Wasn't that the same argument he'd had with himself when Guinevere began expressing interest to venture further into town? Her recovery meant everything to him so he offered encouragement at every turn. The Guinevere he fell in love with feared nothing. The Guinevere he still loved more than life itself harbored fears but that sentiment had been rightly earned.
"Damn Morgana."
Damn her quest for vengeance. Damn her lust for power. Damn her.
Arthur clenched his hand into a fist. Without thinking, he slammed it on the table. Merlin, who had been watching him, didn't blink. He only set the armor aside and leaned back against the chair. In the old days, Arthur would have thrown something at him. But that was the childishness of youth. The Dark Tower had aged Arthur. It had aged them all.
"We will find her."
"You'll full of absolutes today," Arthur snapped.
"I suppose I am."
"Guinevere could have died because of her-"
"You could have, too," Merlin said. "Morgana was after you."
"She wanted both of us," Arthur replied. Yes, he understood that Morgana saw him as an obstacle to the throne. She'd made it abundantly clear that his death would not cause her a moment of distress. Yet knowing that she had used Guinevere… He harbored no doubt that Morgana knew his existence was forever tied to Guinevere. If anything happened to her, he would never be whole.
"I have to know everything," he said quietly.
"Percival and Gwaine's patrols are due back any day now. We're closer than ever to locating her."
Arthur rubbed the back of his neck as he shook his head. "I'm not talking about that."
Merlin sighed. "I can't read your mind."
"Sometimes I wonder." Arthur didn't wait for a response. If he didn't continue with the conversation, he would lose the moment. He hated to admit it, but there were some things Merlin actually knew better than him. And that included his wife. "Guinevere is more like herself…"
Merlin's face brightened. "Of course, she is! Have you seen her? Wait. Of course, you've seen her. The castle just feels different now. Optimistic. Even the cook is less of a grump and the food actually tastes better. Anyway, just yesterday morning, she joined Gaius in the woods. I didn't want to disturb them, but she was so…well, she reminded me of the Gwen from all those years ago."
When Merlin finally paused to take a breath, Arthur couldn't help but say, "You do go on."
The other man released a short laugh. "Well, it's all true."
"I want to talk to her about Morgana," he blurted out. Arthur held himself still as he contemplated Merlin's reaction. To Arthur's annoyance, nothing was revealed. Merlin's face went from joyous to blank. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"You normally have an opinion about everything."
"Oh so I'm allowed to have an opinion now," Merlin retorted.
"Don't test me."
Merlin nodded. Then he rose from the table and began to pace. His movements set Arthur on edge. He wanted to lash out but doing so would only cause a delay. If the last six months taught him anything, it was patience.
"If you're afraid asking her about Morgana will bring the enchantment back, I don't believe it will."
"That's not what concerns me."
Merlin stopped and gestured for him to go on. This time, Arthur stood and walked the length of the table. The cadence helped him sort his thoughts and voice his deepest fear without sounding a fool.
"I do not wish to send her mind back to that dark place, but I have so many questions. Sorcery has been used against us and against Camelot too many times. Unless we battle sorcery with sorcery, there must be another way to match it. To outwit it."
"Arthur…"
"I know, Merlin. I know Guinevere is just now returning to herself." He stopped at the chair Merlin had vacated. His gaze danced around the armor that still rested on the table. Some of the metal shone brightly and his reflection was like looking in a mirror. Other pieces were dull. Dirt and debris filled the cracks and covered the metal, preventing a clear image from coming through. That's how he saw magic. Or at least his understanding of it.
"I just want to do everything I can to make sure that magic is never used like that again-on her or anyone else."
"Guinevere won't have the answers you seek," Merlin said quietly.
"Of course, my wife isn't a sorceress, Merlin."
"I would never make that suggestion, Sire."
Arthur sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "I didn't mean to snap."
"Maybe talking about it could be helpful for Gwen," Merlin said. "She's been very quiet about that time. Other than apologizing…"
"I thought she'd stopped."
Merlin smiled. "Nothing this week or the last."
"Good."
Arthur returned to his study of the maps and Merlin to his cleaning of the armor. Now that he'd decided to gently broach the subject of Morgana with his wife, Arthur's thoughts turned to Merlin. The two of them had seen the best and the worst of each other and had survived the darkest times. He felt an odd twinge watching Merlin scrub through grit and grime when his counsel could not be assigned value. Knighting him seemed out of the question, but keeping him on as a servant was a disservice to them both. He would have to find a better role suited to the man's loyalty and wisdom.
~*~
The return to the lower town had been nothing less than a success. Guinevere soaked up the smiles and well-wishes like they were rays of sunshine. For too long, her days had felt like clouds hung overhead. She could not allow herself to feel warmth or anything short of disappointment in herself. But those days were behind her now. Arthur's steadfast devotion and the people's obvious affection filled her heart. She would have a difficult time doubting the sincerity of either.
Leon and Mordred were quiet beside her. She sensed their watchful gazes of their surroundings even though they never hinted at any danger. Hours had been spent reconnecting with her former neighbors and friends. She supposed it was time to head back before Arthur mounted a horse and started a search.
Before the Dark Tower, she'd visit the township twice a month. Officially. Unofficially, her visits depended on need. If Arthur was home, her trips were frequent. If he was away on expedition or battle, she had no need to see a certain woman who kept an assortment of tinctures specifically for female concerns. As Tarran and the woman's remedies crossed Guinevere's mind, she wondered if a visit was not in order.
Couplings with Arthur had been sporadic since he'd resurrected her mind and soul from Morgana's enchantment. So much so that her bottle of prevention had lasted longer than it ever had in all their years of marriage. However now that she had regained herself and her passion for Arthur seemed untamed at times, she perhaps should consider it. In fact, she was mildly surprised he had not brought the subject up by now. He had been so diligent in the past.
"My Lady?" Leon touched her elbow. "Is something the matter?"
Decades had passed since their childhood together but odd moments arose when Guinevere was reminded of how protective he could be of her and Elyan.
Indecision continued to linger, but she shook her head. It was nothing that concerned her protection or his worry. "No, I'm fine."
"Then perhaps we should return," he kindly suggested.
The people had families to tend to, but they would not return to their daily business while she lingered in their presence. As much as she enjoyed being with them again, it was time to go home. Besides, she missed Arthur.
"Yes, let's-"
"My Lady…" A figure bowed low in their path.
In unison, the knights stepped in front of Guinevere as they drew their swords.
"Please, I mean the Queen no harm."
"It's fine," Guinevere said, as she moved to the crouching subject. Upon close inspection of the bluish gray shawl and curly graying tendrils pushed into a messy bun, she recognized the subject of her thoughts. "Hello, Tarran."
The older woman bowed again before she stood. Few lines marred the planes of her smooth brown face. Wisdom burning in her dark eyes gave the only hint to her age. Guinevere knew that she was slightly younger than her parents because her father had often teased her.
"Your Highness, it is very good to see you." She extended her hand as the others had done.
Guinevere accepted the gesture and the small bottle that was placed against her palm. "Thank you." She slipped the bottle into a pocket and smiled. "I trust you are doing well."
"There is no better place than Camelot." She bowed again. "Good day, my Lady."
The return to the castle was uneventful. The knights delivered her to Arthur with pride and he managed to conceal his relief to Guinevere's amusement. Ever attentive, he removed her cloak and her informed her that the evening meal would arrive soon.
"We're having roasted pheasant with potatoes and carrots," he said rubbing his flat stomach, "and apple tarts for dessert."
"Are you hungry?"
A growl from his stomach answered. She laughed. "You could have eaten without me."
"No, I prefer to wait."
He draped her cloak over the back of a chair before heading to his chair. Once settled, he patted to his lap. "Come. I've missed you. Tell me about your visit."
She removed the bottle from her pocket and then draped herself over her willing husband. They kissed soundly. His eagerness for her rivaled his for food as moans from his throat and growls from his stomach vibrated against her. They pulled away slowly. Her fingers drifted to the pulse beating rapidly at his throat while his caressed the underside of her breast. Layers of fabric did little to lessen the heat of his touch. She relished his desire for her. Still. After everything.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured.
"You are, too."
He frowned. "No, men are not beautiful, Guinevere. I am not beautiful."
"I disagree," she said. "You do not see what I see."
"Battle scars, worry lines, a paunch-"
She laughed. "I give you one of the three. Nothing more."
"I do so love your laugh." His lips curved into a faint smile. "Did you have a good afternoon?"
"It was very pleasant. Just like I remembered."
"I told you so."
He laughed as she poked him in the chest. "You promised not to."
"I could not resist." The laughter faded and he continued to stare. "Truly, everything went well?"
"Yes…"
"What?"
She showed him the bottle. At first, he only stared. Then recognition struck. He sighed.
"We haven't been careful, have we?"
"Just once or twice. My previous supply had not run out."
He took the bottle from her. "It doesn't seem like it will be enough."
"She was discrete."
"I'll make sure she's compensated and that the next is ample for our needs-"
"Arthur, maybe it's time for us to reconsider. Maybe it is time for an heir."
He hugged her close for a moment. Next, he was on his feet and Guinevere was in his chair, looking up at him.
"Not now, Guinevere. Not when I almost lost you."
"What happened to your mother-"
"It could very well happen to you," he cut in, harshly. "I will not take that risk."
"But Camelot needs an heir," she argued. "You need a son."
"I need my wife."
The resolute tone of his voice and the clench of his jaw were signals Guinevere was all too familiar with. She understood his fear of losing her. Dread raged through her every time he donned armor and set out for battle. But a child…other than being his queen, she wanted nothing more than to make him a father.
A knock sounded at the door. He said, "Just a moment."
"Yes, Sire."
He set the bottle on the table in front of her. "You will take this for me."
"I wish to talk about this-"
"Guinevere, our dinner is getting cold."
She stood and pocketed the bottle. Arthur returned to his chair and she sat in the one beside him. As he called out for the servants to enter, she wondered if talking would be necessary. For the second time in the same number of days, the smell of apples clenched her stomach and food became hard to swallow. They had always been so careful before, but one slip was all it took. She pressed her hand against her abdomen, smiling as Arthur worked to make amends for their disagreement and deciding that a visit to Gaius was indeed on her list for the next morning.
Arthur quelled the urge to pace by walking purposely to the bedroom window. The position afforded him a view of the courtyard and the comings and goings of the castle. Even now, a few knights milled around a baker's wagon. Children chased a chicken into a corner. The bird's indignant squawking alerted a rotund man who grabbed the prey with one hand as he waved the young ones away with the other. Arthur smiled at the antics and became aware of how tense he'd become.
If he were a cursing man, he would have muttered an oath at himself. He really should be relaxed. Calm. Content. Close to three weeks had passed since the blessed outing with Guinevere. Since then, she had blossomed. Light danced in her eyes. Smiles came easy to her full lips. When she touched him, he knew her caresses came from her need for him and not a misguided sense of obligation or an attempt to pretend that melancholy had released her from a state of distress. Finally, he had his wife back. Morgana had not been victorious in that regard.
The clunky sound of armor on wood pulled him from his reverie. He tore his gaze from the window, but not his worries as he regarded his long-time manservant.
"Merlin-"
"Arthur, staring out the window won't bring her back any faster. You don't have to worry about her anymore."
"I wasn't…"
Arthur's denial faded. The other man knew him too well for the words to have any effect anyway. He joined Merlin at the table and assembled the latest maps of the Five Kingdoms into a full display of the region and tried to focus again.
"She's in good hands with Leon and Mordred," Merlin continued. The swishing of rag on metal marked his words. "Besides, she just went to the lower town. It's her first trip there in months and the people love her. Nothing will happen to her."
Arthur listened in silence. Wasn't that the same argument he'd had with himself when Guinevere began expressing interest to venture further into town? Her recovery meant everything to him so he offered encouragement at every turn. The Guinevere he fell in love with feared nothing. The Guinevere he still loved more than life itself harbored fears but that sentiment had been rightly earned.
"Damn Morgana."
Damn her quest for vengeance. Damn her lust for power. Damn her.
Arthur clenched his hand into a fist. Without thinking, he slammed it on the table. Merlin, who had been watching him, didn't blink. He only set the armor aside and leaned back against the chair. In the old days, Arthur would have thrown something at him. But that was the childishness of youth. The Dark Tower had aged Arthur. It had aged them all.
"We will find her."
"You'll full of absolutes today," Arthur snapped.
"I suppose I am."
"Guinevere could have died because of her-"
"You could have, too," Merlin said. "Morgana was after you."
"She wanted both of us," Arthur replied. Yes, he understood that Morgana saw him as an obstacle to the throne. She'd made it abundantly clear that his death would not cause her a moment of distress. Yet knowing that she had used Guinevere… He harbored no doubt that Morgana knew his existence was forever tied to Guinevere. If anything happened to her, he would never be whole.
"I have to know everything," he said quietly.
"Percival and Gwaine's patrols are due back any day now. We're closer than ever to locating her."
Arthur rubbed the back of his neck as he shook his head. "I'm not talking about that."
Merlin sighed. "I can't read your mind."
"Sometimes I wonder." Arthur didn't wait for a response. If he didn't continue with the conversation, he would lose the moment. He hated to admit it, but there were some things Merlin actually knew better than him. And that included his wife. "Guinevere is more like herself…"
Merlin's face brightened. "Of course, she is! Have you seen her? Wait. Of course, you've seen her. The castle just feels different now. Optimistic. Even the cook is less of a grump and the food actually tastes better. Anyway, just yesterday morning, she joined Gaius in the woods. I didn't want to disturb them, but she was so…well, she reminded me of the Gwen from all those years ago."
When Merlin finally paused to take a breath, Arthur couldn't help but say, "You do go on."
The other man released a short laugh. "Well, it's all true."
"I want to talk to her about Morgana," he blurted out. Arthur held himself still as he contemplated Merlin's reaction. To Arthur's annoyance, nothing was revealed. Merlin's face went from joyous to blank. "Well?"
"Well what?"
"You normally have an opinion about everything."
"Oh so I'm allowed to have an opinion now," Merlin retorted.
"Don't test me."
Merlin nodded. Then he rose from the table and began to pace. His movements set Arthur on edge. He wanted to lash out but doing so would only cause a delay. If the last six months taught him anything, it was patience.
"If you're afraid asking her about Morgana will bring the enchantment back, I don't believe it will."
"That's not what concerns me."
Merlin stopped and gestured for him to go on. This time, Arthur stood and walked the length of the table. The cadence helped him sort his thoughts and voice his deepest fear without sounding a fool.
"I do not wish to send her mind back to that dark place, but I have so many questions. Sorcery has been used against us and against Camelot too many times. Unless we battle sorcery with sorcery, there must be another way to match it. To outwit it."
"Arthur…"
"I know, Merlin. I know Guinevere is just now returning to herself." He stopped at the chair Merlin had vacated. His gaze danced around the armor that still rested on the table. Some of the metal shone brightly and his reflection was like looking in a mirror. Other pieces were dull. Dirt and debris filled the cracks and covered the metal, preventing a clear image from coming through. That's how he saw magic. Or at least his understanding of it.
"I just want to do everything I can to make sure that magic is never used like that again-on her or anyone else."
"Guinevere won't have the answers you seek," Merlin said quietly.
"Of course, my wife isn't a sorceress, Merlin."
"I would never make that suggestion, Sire."
Arthur sighed, rubbing his hand over his face. "I didn't mean to snap."
"Maybe talking about it could be helpful for Gwen," Merlin said. "She's been very quiet about that time. Other than apologizing…"
"I thought she'd stopped."
Merlin smiled. "Nothing this week or the last."
"Good."
Arthur returned to his study of the maps and Merlin to his cleaning of the armor. Now that he'd decided to gently broach the subject of Morgana with his wife, Arthur's thoughts turned to Merlin. The two of them had seen the best and the worst of each other and had survived the darkest times. He felt an odd twinge watching Merlin scrub through grit and grime when his counsel could not be assigned value. Knighting him seemed out of the question, but keeping him on as a servant was a disservice to them both. He would have to find a better role suited to the man's loyalty and wisdom.
~*~
The return to the lower town had been nothing less than a success. Guinevere soaked up the smiles and well-wishes like they were rays of sunshine. For too long, her days had felt like clouds hung overhead. She could not allow herself to feel warmth or anything short of disappointment in herself. But those days were behind her now. Arthur's steadfast devotion and the people's obvious affection filled her heart. She would have a difficult time doubting the sincerity of either.
Leon and Mordred were quiet beside her. She sensed their watchful gazes of their surroundings even though they never hinted at any danger. Hours had been spent reconnecting with her former neighbors and friends. She supposed it was time to head back before Arthur mounted a horse and started a search.
Before the Dark Tower, she'd visit the township twice a month. Officially. Unofficially, her visits depended on need. If Arthur was home, her trips were frequent. If he was away on expedition or battle, she had no need to see a certain woman who kept an assortment of tinctures specifically for female concerns. As Tarran and the woman's remedies crossed Guinevere's mind, she wondered if a visit was not in order.
Couplings with Arthur had been sporadic since he'd resurrected her mind and soul from Morgana's enchantment. So much so that her bottle of prevention had lasted longer than it ever had in all their years of marriage. However now that she had regained herself and her passion for Arthur seemed untamed at times, she perhaps should consider it. In fact, she was mildly surprised he had not brought the subject up by now. He had been so diligent in the past.
"My Lady?" Leon touched her elbow. "Is something the matter?"
Decades had passed since their childhood together but odd moments arose when Guinevere was reminded of how protective he could be of her and Elyan.
Indecision continued to linger, but she shook her head. It was nothing that concerned her protection or his worry. "No, I'm fine."
"Then perhaps we should return," he kindly suggested.
The people had families to tend to, but they would not return to their daily business while she lingered in their presence. As much as she enjoyed being with them again, it was time to go home. Besides, she missed Arthur.
"Yes, let's-"
"My Lady…" A figure bowed low in their path.
In unison, the knights stepped in front of Guinevere as they drew their swords.
"Please, I mean the Queen no harm."
"It's fine," Guinevere said, as she moved to the crouching subject. Upon close inspection of the bluish gray shawl and curly graying tendrils pushed into a messy bun, she recognized the subject of her thoughts. "Hello, Tarran."
The older woman bowed again before she stood. Few lines marred the planes of her smooth brown face. Wisdom burning in her dark eyes gave the only hint to her age. Guinevere knew that she was slightly younger than her parents because her father had often teased her.
"Your Highness, it is very good to see you." She extended her hand as the others had done.
Guinevere accepted the gesture and the small bottle that was placed against her palm. "Thank you." She slipped the bottle into a pocket and smiled. "I trust you are doing well."
"There is no better place than Camelot." She bowed again. "Good day, my Lady."
The return to the castle was uneventful. The knights delivered her to Arthur with pride and he managed to conceal his relief to Guinevere's amusement. Ever attentive, he removed her cloak and her informed her that the evening meal would arrive soon.
"We're having roasted pheasant with potatoes and carrots," he said rubbing his flat stomach, "and apple tarts for dessert."
"Are you hungry?"
A growl from his stomach answered. She laughed. "You could have eaten without me."
"No, I prefer to wait."
He draped her cloak over the back of a chair before heading to his chair. Once settled, he patted to his lap. "Come. I've missed you. Tell me about your visit."
She removed the bottle from her pocket and then draped herself over her willing husband. They kissed soundly. His eagerness for her rivaled his for food as moans from his throat and growls from his stomach vibrated against her. They pulled away slowly. Her fingers drifted to the pulse beating rapidly at his throat while his caressed the underside of her breast. Layers of fabric did little to lessen the heat of his touch. She relished his desire for her. Still. After everything.
"You're so beautiful," he murmured.
"You are, too."
He frowned. "No, men are not beautiful, Guinevere. I am not beautiful."
"I disagree," she said. "You do not see what I see."
"Battle scars, worry lines, a paunch-"
She laughed. "I give you one of the three. Nothing more."
"I do so love your laugh." His lips curved into a faint smile. "Did you have a good afternoon?"
"It was very pleasant. Just like I remembered."
"I told you so."
He laughed as she poked him in the chest. "You promised not to."
"I could not resist." The laughter faded and he continued to stare. "Truly, everything went well?"
"Yes…"
"What?"
She showed him the bottle. At first, he only stared. Then recognition struck. He sighed.
"We haven't been careful, have we?"
"Just once or twice. My previous supply had not run out."
He took the bottle from her. "It doesn't seem like it will be enough."
"She was discrete."
"I'll make sure she's compensated and that the next is ample for our needs-"
"Arthur, maybe it's time for us to reconsider. Maybe it is time for an heir."
He hugged her close for a moment. Next, he was on his feet and Guinevere was in his chair, looking up at him.
"Not now, Guinevere. Not when I almost lost you."
"What happened to your mother-"
"It could very well happen to you," he cut in, harshly. "I will not take that risk."
"But Camelot needs an heir," she argued. "You need a son."
"I need my wife."
The resolute tone of his voice and the clench of his jaw were signals Guinevere was all too familiar with. She understood his fear of losing her. Dread raged through her every time he donned armor and set out for battle. But a child…other than being his queen, she wanted nothing more than to make him a father.
A knock sounded at the door. He said, "Just a moment."
"Yes, Sire."
He set the bottle on the table in front of her. "You will take this for me."
"I wish to talk about this-"
"Guinevere, our dinner is getting cold."
She stood and pocketed the bottle. Arthur returned to his chair and she sat in the one beside him. As he called out for the servants to enter, she wondered if talking would be necessary. For the second time in the same number of days, the smell of apples clenched her stomach and food became hard to swallow. They had always been so careful before, but one slip was all it took. She pressed her hand against her abdomen, smiling as Arthur worked to make amends for their disagreement and deciding that a visit to Gaius was indeed on her list for the next morning.