The Ward 7/20
Title: The Ward 7/20
Author:tudor_rose445
Rating: Pg-13
Characters/Pairings:Arthur, Guinevere, Morgana, Uther, Igraine, Merlin, Gaius, Arthur/Guinevere, Igraine/Uther, Morgana/Merlin?.
Spoilers: Seasons 1-3
Disclaimer: I own nothing. BBC owns "Merlin". Check out the bit of borrowed dialogue from the episode "Excalibur". Also not mine.
Summary: AU. The life of Guinevere, daughter to Sir Thomas of Camelot, has seemingly changed over night. After the death of her father and brother she is sent to the court of King Uther to become his ward. There she grows amongst the two royal children, Prince Arthur and Princess Morgana. Her time with the Pendragons will have a large influence on her life, and help to shape her into the queen of legend.
Chapter 6:
(Eight years later) Arthur is crowned the official heir, the trio meets a new friend, and Arthur comes to a realization.
Author’s notes: Beta-ed by the awesome Guardian Izz . Yay! I caught up with my fanfiction.net entry. I apparently fail at updating both on the same day.
The sixteen year old girl observed herself carefully in the mirror mounted above her vanity table, turning her head slightly to the right and left to observe her nurse's handy work. Her curls, nearly reaching her waist, looked silky smooth where they flowed down her back. A hair ornament of gold inlaid with rubies- a gift from the king for her last birthday- glittered in her dark hair. Her eyes drifted from her hair to her face, taking in the mature look of it. Gone were the chubby cheeks of her childhood and the overall infantile appearance. She felt at that moment that she looked every inch the young woman she was becoming. Guinevere smiled in gratitude to Batilda for taking such care with the details of her dressing.
“The seamstress did a rather good job on this,” the older woman commented, taking Gwen's new gown from the oak clothes press. “Perhaps you should have taken lessons from her rather than me,” she teased, causing her charge to giggle at the jest.
“Nonsense Batilda,” the young lady mock chastised, rising from her cushioned stool to approach Batilda. Gwen picked at the muted golden sleeve tenderly, admiring the sight of her new gown. The seamstress did have an eye for fashion there was no denying that. The sleeves trailed down nearly all the way to the floor. The bodice was of apple red shade, embellished with bleak peach colored patterns of leaves and vines; the skirt was the same hue as the designs, accentuating the soft ensemble.
Batilda helped her charge into a linen ivory shift before Gwen stepped into the layers of silk. Gwen gritted her teeth as the nurse pulled the stays of her dress as tight as possible, leaving just enough room for the girl to breathe. One of the first things she had noticed becoming a 'young woman' was the pain it brought along.
Now that her chest had developed she was required to wear stays and corsets to reign in her bust and minimize the already slim waist. This 'reigning in' certainly drew attention to her blossoming womanhood from the male courtiers. Studying her reflection in the mirror as Batilda laced her up, Guinevere knew, for her age, she didn't look too buxom. Quite a few of the ladies at court had rather large bosoms in comparison and shy as she was, Guinevere suspected that she would be stuck with her petite figure forever as Batilda had recently estimated that she had stopped growing, both in height and chest. The nurse had dubbed her petite size as “delicate” although that didn't stop Gwen from envying the ladies flashing their busts at court.
In addition to the pinching and squeezing that the stays brought, womanhood brought along the dreaded monthly cycle. The actual cycle didn't cause her pain, but she often found herself having such terrible stomach pains the week prior. She was rather glad that she wasn't the only lady at court, yet asking Gaius for a 'special pain potion', as she called it, was still rather awkward.
Her nurse gently patted her shoulder.
“There you are lamb,” she said, stepping back to look at her charge.
Gwen beamed back at the woman before she moved toward the door.
“Wait!”
She stopped short, catching onto the door for support as Batilda hurried over to her mistress’ jewelry box. The woman shuffled through it for a moment or two before extracting a simple gold chain. She padded over to Gwen, lovingly clipping it around the girl's neck.
“It's simple,” the woman noted, stepping back to take in the girl's appearance, “but it had always been a favorite of your mother's.” The nurse smiled softly. “Now, off you go.”
o0o0o
The feast that night was to be held in Arthur's honor. As he had recently turned nineteen Uther’s heir was officially of age and to be awarded the title of 'Crown Prince'. Though seemingly just a ceremony to her, she knew that it meant much more to her childhood playmate. Alongside Morgana she had witnessed Arthur's transformation from a boy to a young man with great strength and skills on the battlefield. He still had his cockiness - intensified if anything - yet when he was alone with the two girls the prince was fairly tolerable. Gwen and Morgana often pitied the poor girl destined to marry him; she would have to put up with his ego every moment of every day.
Thankfully there had, as of yet, been no talk of marriage in Guinevere’s life. Although she knew that to make a good match through marriage was the most important task set out for her gender, she was in no hurry. Camelot was now her home, and she would prefer remain within its citadel walls for quite some time yet. Guinevere was also aware that both Arthur and Morgana's marriages would take precedence over hers, as they were the king’s children. At least that assured her that out of her and Morgana Gwen would be the last to depart.
She nodded in greeting to the guests that began to mill into the great hall. Morgana was stationed at the door, making small talk with nearly every guest that filed into the room. As first lady, she had taken up all the social duties that would have otherwise befallen Igraine. Gwen thought her friend, a natural social “pariah”, had taken up the mantle of responsibility rather successfully.
“Wine, milady?”
She turned to the servant that addressed her, accepting the goblet as she took him in.
He was perhaps a bit taller than Arthur and thin, giving him an almost gangly appearance. Yet a bit of boyish charm was evident despite the respectful expression that his features were currently cemented in.
“I don't think that we've met before,” she commented, watching as the young man's eyes widened slightly at actually being addressed by one of the nobles.
The tips of his ears turned slightly red from embarrassment. “My name is Merlin, milady,” he said, bowing slightly while attempting to keep the tray with goblets of wine level. “I arrived not but two days ago to stay with my guardian, Gaius.”
Gwen's eyes lit up.
“Gaius? You're staying with him?” She smiled. “He is a dear friend; you'll be in good hands.” She took a sip from her goblet before brushing back a curl. “I am the Lady Guinevere,” she tilted her head slightly. “I should be seeing quite a lot of you then. Gaius has been teaching me about his profession ever since I was a girl.”
Merlin opened his mouth to reply but was interrupted by the sound of trumpets. The two glanced toward the entrance of the hall before she smiled in farewell as he stood back in line with the rest of the servants.
Standing before her place at the head of the table beside Morgana, Guinevere turned her attention toward the large doors at the end of the hall and watched as Uther strode through, causing the rest of the room to bow as if by magic. He nodded as he passed by the rows of tables lined up before standing next his own seat beside Morgana.
“Thank you, one and all, for attending this evening's ceremony,” he began, observing the mass amounts of guests.
As the king droned on Gwen discreetly assessed him.
The past eight years had not been kind to Uther. His hair, once thick and dark, had started to thin and grey. Deep-set frown lines were apparent on his face, replacing any laugh lines of his earlier years. The most obvious physical difference of all was the scar running down his forehead above his right eye. Uther himself had ridden out with his men eight years ago to capture the last living dragon and imprison it in the vaults below the city. The wound, then bleeding massively, had been a souvenir of sorts from the skirmish that ensued with the beast.
Gwen's eyes wandered toward the entrance once more as the trumpets rang again. Arthur appeared, wearing his mail and tunic bearing the crest of Camelot. He too had shed his childish features some time ago. He was a man in every sense of the word at this point in his life. Truly every sense, if one believed gossip; as prince, and extremely handsome one at that, he had no shortage of young noblewomen interested in him. He had been rather close with a few of them publicly, giving rise to rumors.
Arthur knelt before his father in front of the dais, and bowed his head.
Gwen had never seen the young man look that solemn since his mother's funeral.
Uther's voice rang through the hall.
“Do you solemnly swear to govern the people of this kingdom and its dominions according to the statutes, customs and laws laid down by your forebears?” The room seemed to hold its breath as the guests waited for Arthur to answer. Although replies during ceremonies such as these were hardly new inventions, having been repeated for the last couple of centuries over and over again. “I do, Sire,” he replied, his voice strong despite the nerves running through his limbs. “Do you promise to exercise mercy and justice in your deeds and judgments?” “I do, Sire.” Uther held out his hand, prompting Sir Leon to hand him a golden staff. Uther held it out to his son, speaking once more: “And do you swear allegiance to Camelot, now and for as long as you shall live?” Arthur finally looked up at his father before taking hold of the staff. “I, Arthur Pendragon, do pledge life and limb to your service and to the protection of the kingdom and its people.” A ghost of a proud smile formed on the king's face as he took a step backward. “Now being of age and heir apparent, from henceforth, you shall be Crown Prince of Camelot.” The hall collapsed into applause, earning a small smile from the newly crowned young man. He bowed his head in thanks to his father before nodding in appreciation to the two young women at the table. Guinevere thought she might have been mistaken when she noticed how he seemed to have held her gaze longer than he had Morgana's. But the moment passed and she simply brushed it aside. During the course of the evening Guinevere observed the courtiers as they socialized around the room and table. Women gossiped, men ate and young knights drank and flirted with young ladies. While growing up she often felt alone while in a crowded room. Unlike Morgana, Gwen rarely participated in courtly gossip, though she did listen to quite a lot being Morgana’s best friend and found some of it rather amusing. After Igraine’s death Uther buried himself in work and even during feasts tried to hint on strategic alliances with his guests. The prince could almost always be found among the knights laughing and drinking wine, although sometimes he humored visiting ladies who tried desperately to flirt with him. And so Guinevere observed, year after year she listened to Uther’s political plots and strategic tricks to please visiting barons and kings. She assessed and compared ladies of fine breeding and propriety with those of seemingly equal status yet inferior in manners and taste. Safe to say Uther’s ward learned quite a lot but kept this acquired knowledge to herself so as to not draw too much attention to herself - that was Morgana’s preference. She sighed. One can normally tell if one is being stared at, and Guinevere was no different. Discretely, she lifted her head to scan the crowds, trying to pinpoint exactly who was watching her so intently. Finally she glanced down the opposite side of the dais, noticing how Arthur quickly changed the focus of his gaze. Feeling a bit confused, and a tad bit awkward, she blinked and switched her attention to the guests starting to line up for a dance. She soon spotted Merlin on the edge of the crowd, still passing out wine goblets to the guests. Gwen leaned over closer to Morgana, gesturing toward the young man. “Gaius has invited a newcomer to court,” she said, watching the princess' gaze fall upon Merlin. The young woman was quiet for a moment as she observed him. “Has he been here long?” Morgana inquired, adjusting the cloth napkin in her lap indifferently. “I haven't seen him before.” “Father hired him as my new manservant only a day ago.” The two young women turned to Arthur, who had an unobstructed view of them now that Uther was no longer sitting at the dais. Again she felt his gaze linger on her form prompting Guinevere to speak up so as to ignore the uncomfortable feeling of Arthur’s eyes on her. “He seems like a very polite boy.” The newly crowned prince rolled his eyes. “He's a lousy servant. But I suppose he's better than nothing. I've been without a permanent one since Morris left, you see.” Gwen inwardly winced at the mention of poor Morris and spared the prince a knowing glance. No wonder the man had resigned from his post. She didn't know how the servant had managed to survive working for Arthur for the past five years. “He's new. You'll just have to give him a chance.” She smiled brightly as Sir Leon approached the dais, bowing as a request for her hand. A dance was just what she needed to get over the strange attention Arthur was paying her. o0o0o It was shortly after midnight when Guinevere finally decided to retire for the evening. After curtseying graciously to Uther and bidding him and the visiting lords a 'goodnight', she took her leave of the gentry. She was barely five steps into the corridor when she felt a hand rest on her arm. Turning around swiftly Gwen relaxed when she found the arm to belong to Arthur. He smiled faintly but other than that remained silent, as if at a loss. “Congratulations,” she said, unsure of what else to say. “Your father seems very proud of you.” Your mother would have been proud too. His smiled widened and he looked down, almost a little abashedly. “Thank you.” The prince looked up and his blue eyes kept searching for something in her chocolate doe ones. Gwen blinked away and looked around. The two teenagers stood in awkward silence for a moment. Finally she cleared her throat. “I, er, should be heading to bed,” she said, not catching the flash of fervent emotion in the prince's eye at her words. She curtsied, smiling a bit as she rose. “Goodnight.” He bowed in turn. “Goodnight, Guinevere,” he said, watching her intensely as she started to turn to walk away. The doors to the great hall opened, surprising the two. Merlin, with a half-filled tray in hand, watched them awkwardly for a second, not knowing what he interrupted. “I, er… just on my way to the kitchens,” he managed to get out, trying to side step the two. Gwen nodded to him before starting off down the hall once more. The sound of splashing and the yell of “Idiot!” paused her movements. For the second time she looked back. An empty goblet rolled on the stone floor all the way to her slipper-clad feet. Another goblet, now empty, lay on the floor near Arthur's foot. Wine dripped down the edge of his red tunic. The prince glared at the boy who was looking back at him with wide eyes, as if searching for an excuse on his master’s face. “I'm not used to holding a tray. I'm sorry, si-” To her surprise she watched as Arthur pushed the tray forward, causing the remaining goblets to spill down Merlin's front. The boy stood there for a moment, as if in shock. “Hey!” The two men turned to her, surprise registering on their faces. Feeling her face grow warm, as it often did when Arthur had picked on her or Morgana as children, she strode over to the two. “It was a mistake Arthur,” she chastised, her voice sounding firm as she bent to pick up the fallen goblets. Merlin quickly bent down to help her, nearly knocking heads with her as the two piled the goblets back onto the tray. Gwen refused Arthur's extended hand to help her up, instead standing on her own. “A little wine won't hurt him,” Arthur said, as if trying to brush aside the insult. “Seriously Guinevere, don't even conc-” She ignored the prince, and, to his shock, instead turned her attention to his servant. “If you go the laundress right away she might be able to salvage your clothing. Here,” she touched his arm,” I'll show you the way.” Merlin followed obediently, uncertainty displayed clearly on his face for a moment as he weighed the situation before attempting to hide a smile. Arthur, seeing the mirth on his new servants face, fumed. “Gwen...” She glanced over her shoulder at him, displeasure clear in her expression and said: “It is a pity that your new title didn't also bring along with it the behavior that a “Crown Prince” ought to have.” The lady nearly dragged a smiling Merlin around the corner, leaving a disgruntled prince who wasn't sure if he was more enraged with his servant or embarrassed that Guinevere had found fault in him. But why should he care? He mused over the abashed feeling he had of being spoken to by the girl he used to push in the mud, who had seemingly grown into a beautiful young woman without him noticing. After a moment Merlin spoke. “Thank you but … why did you do that? I mean, he's the prince but still...” She shook her head, giving him a small smile. “I've known him since we were children. He's just as big of a bully now as he was then. But don't worry, you'll get used to him,” she rolled her eyes. Guinevere laughed, pushing open the door to the laundry chambers where the women were hard at work despite the late hour. “You'll get used to His Royal Pratness soon enough.” o0o0o “Thank you Gregory. That will be all.” The guard, once one of her father's trusted men, bowed before stepping away from Gwen’s horse. She glanced over the courtyard where members of the court were currently mounting their steeds in preparation for that morning's hunt. Arthur had organized it, as it was the first hunting expedition of the spring. Everyone seemed itching to go, including the horses. No doubt the long winter had kept a few of them feeling cooped up in the stables. Gwen readjusted her deep purple cloak, which concealed a lavender dress beneath it. She had, after much begging to Batilda, managed to loosen her stays somewhat to make the ride more comfortable. She looked up from her wardrobe as Arthur entered the courtyard, followed by Merlin fast on his heels. Merlin was still somewhat cheerful after almost two weeks in Arthur's service, so Gwen counted the employment as a success. She readjusted her reins as she waited for the two to mount their own horses. Morgana, unfortunately, had caught a slight cold earlier that week, making Uther forbid her from attending this time. Knowing how cramped up her friend had been in the citadel for the winter she felt just as bad for her as she did the antsy looking horses. “Forward!” She spurred her horse on as the prince called out, leading the group out of the courtyard. She kept close to the middle of the pack as they thundered over the drawbridge and out toward the woods behind the castle. She felt excitement leap in her throat the speed, causing an unrestrained laugh of delight to issue from her lips. How wonderful it felt! She fell behind Merlin, who, although nowhere near as good of a horseman as Arthur, was handling the reins better than expected. The party began to break off into small groups in order to not scare the game away. Guinevere kept with the two young men in front of her, knowing that Arthur normally kept a fast pace. She was in no mood to tread along at a walk when she could be nearly flying through the forest. She bent slightly forward as her mare took a log, laughing at Merlin’s attempted recovery from the jump ahead. He flashed her a grin over his shoulder for a split second before turning his bright eyes back to the path. A flash of fur ahead of them set her heart flying. She began to slow her horse as her two companions did the same before finally coming to a halt. The three dismounted, tying their reins to nearby branches to ensure that their mounts did not run away. Gwen unbuckled her bow and arrow from the side of her saddle before taking small, sneaking quiet steps toward Arthur. Although she wasn't that adept with the bow, one simply couldn't go hunting armed with no weapon. Most of the time Gwen would simply attend for the thrill of the chase rather than the chance of an actual kill. Arthur held up a hand for the two to stop before gesturing to Merlin. The servant fumbled for the prince's crossbow before handing it to him, an arrow always notched in it. “The first of the season,” Arthur commented, throwing a cheeky grin over his shoulder at the two. Gwen and Merlin remained behind as Arthur stalked forward, crouching behind bushes and trees as he neared in on the doe. He settled behind a bush surrounded by high grass, aiming. Gwen was so intent on watching Arthur at work that she hadn't even noticed one knight of their party moving toward him with his bow raised, pointed at the bush. Arthur accidentally brushed against the leaves of the bush, causing them to twitch as if an animal or some creature were hiding between the leaves. Apparently the man took this as a sign of animal life, and began to draw back his crossbow. The groan of the wood finally broke Gwen's concentration, sending ice shooting through her veins. “No!” The sound of the arrow shooting through the air seemed to be the only thing she could hear. Instead of hearing it find it's mark in flesh, however, she heard it bury itself into wood. Astounded she focused on the arrow, now embedded in the tree trunk where Arthur's head had been so close to moments before. Arthur, no longer in the bush, was currently flat on his stomach with Merlin splayed across him. Had it been in a different situation, she would have been near tears. The nobleman paled before dropping his crossbow and rushing toward the prince. Hastily he pulled Merlin off Arthur as Gwen knelt beside them. “Sire....Please forgive me!” the man simpered, watching the young man with wide eyes. “'T’was an accident! I swear!” Arthur stood up rather shakily, staring at the arrow, Gwen, and then Merlin before shaking his head. “I know it was an accident Pellinore,” he said, his voice sounding strange from the shock. He looked at Merlin, as if just realizing what he had done. “You … you just saved my life.” Merlin blushed and looked around unsure of what to do. “It, er...I couldn't have just let you die, even if you are a prat.” For a moment annoyance flickered across Arthur's face before it was erased by something near to appreciation. “You have my most sincere gratitude,” the prince remarked, awkwardly clapping the boy on his back. Merlin bent slightly from the strength of the blow before grinning a bit. Gwen smiled from where she stood beside Pellinore, watching as a bit of Igraine shined through the prince.