Fic: Honourable Treachary (Merlin/Arthur, Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lancelot)
Title: Honourable Treachary
Author: phantomreviewer
Pairing(s): Arthur/Merlin, Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lancelot.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Belongs to the BBC (basically...)
Warnings: Adultery. 'Bitter taste left in the mouth'.
A/N: The first fic that I've written in ages...
Summary: To besmirch her honour for Arthur’s happiness would be the greatest gift she could give.
Morgana fled Camelot the day that Arthur was crowned King.
She ran screaming from the city, hair wild and streams tearing down her face.
“This is the end. I can see it so clearly. The burning, the death, my poor brother, my beloved son, oh Gwen.”
Her prophetic cries were regarded as insane ravings, since she was a known virgin and Arthur’s reign was set out to be the greatest, far outweighing his fathers.
There were cries of witchcraft and hatred shouted after her. Her blood-red cloak became caught the wheel of a cart and she fled without it. Shivering in the heavy rain that spattered the muddy ground and dirtied the once beautiful and fragrant woman.
The townspeople burnt the cloak once the rains had stopped until a servant of the royal household threw a bucket of water over it and huddled the singed and damaged cloak to her chest.
But this was unbeknown to the newly crowned King.
King Arthur was standing in his father’s chambers. The bed sheets were already cold. Any trace of Uther Pendragon had been washed away.
The Crown of power pushed aside, lying on the newly made bed and the tousled blonde hair made him look more like the carefree Prince he had been than the earnest King that he must become.
“Arthur.”
Arthur had a hand pressed against Merlin’s cheek; pressed so close that he could feel the flint-sharp bones dig into his palm.
“I can’t loose you Merlin. You mean too much to me.”
There were tears in Merlin’s eyes as he lifted his own hand to gently remove the King’s cradling palm.
“You are too good for me-”
“-Merlin you must never think that, I lo-”
“-You are too good for me, you are now King. And I would do everything for you, anything, everything I do is for you. You are my everything, but I cannot be that for you.”
Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin’s hand, the already pale skin starting to turn white with the tension of the hold.
“I just need you Merlin. Don’t you understand that?”
The tears were slowly dripping down Merlin’s face, once upon a time Arthur would have slapped him over the head and called him a girl but not now, never now, and Merlin shook his head.
“You need more than me Arthur. I cannot be everything to you. Be content that you are everything for me and that I shall never be disloyal to you for all my days. But you cannot make that promise to me. So don’t try to, please Arthur. For me.”
Arthur raised his other hand to Merlin’s face and wiped away the salty dregs from his… beloved’s face.
The tears ran harder at this gesture of sweetness.
“I will always serve you and love you Arthur.”
And as Merlin left the room, Arthur raised his tear-stained fingers to his lips and touched them to his tongue.
He courted the lady for three months before asking her to be his Queen.
Not his wife but his Queen.
Because that’s what he needed a Queen and a friend. Someone to be loyal to him and someone who he could love unconditionally, even if it were not in the style accustomed to a marriage. Not even a Royal one.
Gwen agreed.
She loved Arthur like a brother and the grief that she felt on her abandoned position as lady’s maid manifested itself as a devotion to both Crown and Camelot.
And it was ignored that she wore a smoked and frayed cloak in her corset liner.
The wedding was a small affair and her crown was officially commissioned, Arthur refused to allow his mother’s to be used.
Merlin was in attendance as Court Sorcerer, but not even magic could make the smile reach his eyes. But no one- but one- was watching him.
Gwen couldn’t comprehend any happiness other than this. Her position granted her move favours than she would ever allow herself to take and if Arthur’s eyes weren’t focused on her at the top table and if his words of passion were subdued and shouts of ecstasy weren’t directed to her name then she failed to hear.
A man could lust over many things, many men, and many women. That didn’t stop that fact that it was only her bed that he shared. If not his heart.
She was happy after all.
She knew nothing else.
And then a new knighthood was bestowed and her happiness was redirected.
Lancelot was beautiful and his eyes shone when he saw Gwen, in a way that Arthur’s never had -never would- and he bowed his head. Gwen’s heart fluttered. Arthur nodded at Lancelot from his throne. Gwen bowed her head. Guilt clawing at her bejewelled throat.
There was a war. There was always a war. And people always died.
Gwen refused to be a meek and mild wife and instead helped to set up the smithy on the battlefield. Ordering the fixing of weapons and the beating of shields. She was miles from the battle lines themselves but she was there.
The battle was being fort on a cursed area of land; no sorcerer could be within a kingdom of it.
Merlin had to stay at Camelot, useless and afraid.
Gwen was ordered away by the time of the final assault. So she was standing in the courtyard when Arthur was returned to his castle, bleeding, delirious and crying tears of anguish. She could see him mouth words, voice snatched by the injuries.
And as Arthur was laying unconscious mumbling nonsense words of adoration and Gwen saw Merlin reach out to a ghostly manifestation of the comatose King and apologise, reach out to touch his face and give delectations of love to have the figure melt away into bed feathers and a gust of wind.
And Gwen understood.
Merlin tucked his face into one of the pillows of the royal chamber, inhaling the scent that Gwen took for granted but didn’t desire. Arthur awoke later that day and was back on his feet with cheerful words and a heavy heart. He came to her that evening and kissed her brow and she turned away.
And Gwen made up her mind.
The next night she went to Lancelot.
To besmirch her honour for Arthur’s happiness would be the greatest gift she could give.
For if she sinned against him, and he seeing no fault in himself or deception to cause jealousy, then he would consider himself free.
Free to love truly, rather than obligation and falsity.
And free from guilt, the guilt of adultery that would surely hang above his head if he dared to reach for Merlin’s skin before.
Yes, Gwen would sacrifice her integrity to make Arthur whole again.
But he could never know of it. To Arthur he must be abandoned by his wife into the arms of his best loved knight, or else he would never take shelter in his sorcerer’s embrace.
It made a bitter-sweet fairytale.
Morgana Le Fey tossed her head, and cried.
Author: phantomreviewer
Pairing(s): Arthur/Merlin, Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lancelot.
Rating: PG-13
Disclaimer: Belongs to the BBC (basically...)
Warnings: Adultery. 'Bitter taste left in the mouth'.
A/N: The first fic that I've written in ages...
Summary: To besmirch her honour for Arthur’s happiness would be the greatest gift she could give.
Morgana fled Camelot the day that Arthur was crowned King.
She ran screaming from the city, hair wild and streams tearing down her face.
“This is the end. I can see it so clearly. The burning, the death, my poor brother, my beloved son, oh Gwen.”
Her prophetic cries were regarded as insane ravings, since she was a known virgin and Arthur’s reign was set out to be the greatest, far outweighing his fathers.
There were cries of witchcraft and hatred shouted after her. Her blood-red cloak became caught the wheel of a cart and she fled without it. Shivering in the heavy rain that spattered the muddy ground and dirtied the once beautiful and fragrant woman.
The townspeople burnt the cloak once the rains had stopped until a servant of the royal household threw a bucket of water over it and huddled the singed and damaged cloak to her chest.
But this was unbeknown to the newly crowned King.
King Arthur was standing in his father’s chambers. The bed sheets were already cold. Any trace of Uther Pendragon had been washed away.
The Crown of power pushed aside, lying on the newly made bed and the tousled blonde hair made him look more like the carefree Prince he had been than the earnest King that he must become.
“Arthur.”
Arthur had a hand pressed against Merlin’s cheek; pressed so close that he could feel the flint-sharp bones dig into his palm.
“I can’t loose you Merlin. You mean too much to me.”
There were tears in Merlin’s eyes as he lifted his own hand to gently remove the King’s cradling palm.
“You are too good for me-”
“-Merlin you must never think that, I lo-”
“-You are too good for me, you are now King. And I would do everything for you, anything, everything I do is for you. You are my everything, but I cannot be that for you.”
Arthur tightened his grip on Merlin’s hand, the already pale skin starting to turn white with the tension of the hold.
“I just need you Merlin. Don’t you understand that?”
The tears were slowly dripping down Merlin’s face, once upon a time Arthur would have slapped him over the head and called him a girl but not now, never now, and Merlin shook his head.
“You need more than me Arthur. I cannot be everything to you. Be content that you are everything for me and that I shall never be disloyal to you for all my days. But you cannot make that promise to me. So don’t try to, please Arthur. For me.”
Arthur raised his other hand to Merlin’s face and wiped away the salty dregs from his… beloved’s face.
The tears ran harder at this gesture of sweetness.
“I will always serve you and love you Arthur.”
And as Merlin left the room, Arthur raised his tear-stained fingers to his lips and touched them to his tongue.
He courted the lady for three months before asking her to be his Queen.
Not his wife but his Queen.
Because that’s what he needed a Queen and a friend. Someone to be loyal to him and someone who he could love unconditionally, even if it were not in the style accustomed to a marriage. Not even a Royal one.
Gwen agreed.
She loved Arthur like a brother and the grief that she felt on her abandoned position as lady’s maid manifested itself as a devotion to both Crown and Camelot.
And it was ignored that she wore a smoked and frayed cloak in her corset liner.
The wedding was a small affair and her crown was officially commissioned, Arthur refused to allow his mother’s to be used.
Merlin was in attendance as Court Sorcerer, but not even magic could make the smile reach his eyes. But no one- but one- was watching him.
Gwen couldn’t comprehend any happiness other than this. Her position granted her move favours than she would ever allow herself to take and if Arthur’s eyes weren’t focused on her at the top table and if his words of passion were subdued and shouts of ecstasy weren’t directed to her name then she failed to hear.
A man could lust over many things, many men, and many women. That didn’t stop that fact that it was only her bed that he shared. If not his heart.
She was happy after all.
She knew nothing else.
And then a new knighthood was bestowed and her happiness was redirected.
Lancelot was beautiful and his eyes shone when he saw Gwen, in a way that Arthur’s never had -never would- and he bowed his head. Gwen’s heart fluttered. Arthur nodded at Lancelot from his throne. Gwen bowed her head. Guilt clawing at her bejewelled throat.
There was a war. There was always a war. And people always died.
Gwen refused to be a meek and mild wife and instead helped to set up the smithy on the battlefield. Ordering the fixing of weapons and the beating of shields. She was miles from the battle lines themselves but she was there.
The battle was being fort on a cursed area of land; no sorcerer could be within a kingdom of it.
Merlin had to stay at Camelot, useless and afraid.
Gwen was ordered away by the time of the final assault. So she was standing in the courtyard when Arthur was returned to his castle, bleeding, delirious and crying tears of anguish. She could see him mouth words, voice snatched by the injuries.
And as Arthur was laying unconscious mumbling nonsense words of adoration and Gwen saw Merlin reach out to a ghostly manifestation of the comatose King and apologise, reach out to touch his face and give delectations of love to have the figure melt away into bed feathers and a gust of wind.
And Gwen understood.
Merlin tucked his face into one of the pillows of the royal chamber, inhaling the scent that Gwen took for granted but didn’t desire. Arthur awoke later that day and was back on his feet with cheerful words and a heavy heart. He came to her that evening and kissed her brow and she turned away.
And Gwen made up her mind.
The next night she went to Lancelot.
To besmirch her honour for Arthur’s happiness would be the greatest gift she could give.
For if she sinned against him, and he seeing no fault in himself or deception to cause jealousy, then he would consider himself free.
Free to love truly, rather than obligation and falsity.
And free from guilt, the guilt of adultery that would surely hang above his head if he dared to reach for Merlin’s skin before.
Yes, Gwen would sacrifice her integrity to make Arthur whole again.
But he could never know of it. To Arthur he must be abandoned by his wife into the arms of his best loved knight, or else he would never take shelter in his sorcerer’s embrace.
It made a bitter-sweet fairytale.
Morgana Le Fey tossed her head, and cried.