Fragile Peace
This fic was written for merlinreversebb
Art Prompt Title:1030
Art link: Art Masterlist
Artist: nickygabriel Beautiful inspiring art/thank you Nicky!
Fic Title: Fragile Peace
Author: mara93
Beta: rubber_glue She rocks!/helped me so much!!!
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen, Merlin, Morgana, Mordred (Minor: Gwaine, Gaius, Elyan, Percival, Leon and a few original characters) A/G, but with strong elements of friendship, especially Arthur and Merlin, Arthur, Gwen and Merlin
Rating: R
Word Count: 66,000+
Warnings: It’s a mild R for non-explicit relationship situations and some violence, plus angst // Series 4 spoilers
Summary: From the wild red roses growing in the wood, to the wintry mountains high above, a deadly plan is put into place and secrets grasp for their escape. This is a story of Arthur, Gwen, Merlin, Morgana and Mordred and how the time of fragile peace in Camelot is broken.
This story would not have been possible without these wonderful people so a special note for them below:
nickygabriel : When I first saw Nicky's art I was so inspired by it. I just love the imagery. It's gorgeous with the mountains in the background, the note and the rose on the table, and then that amazing heartfelt pose from Arthur. I knew there could be so many stories for it. When I approached Nicky with my idea she was so supportive and really so open to what I wanted to write. I appreciate that so much. Check out the masterpost for her art, give her some love. And oh so much love from me that she made matching icons. I was so excited to see that so I could put them with the story!
rubber_glue : Piper is one of my favorite writers and I'm so impressed with how she writes with everything connecting so well. So when I decided to sign up for this I asked her to beta and she graciously said yes. I sent her monster size drafts and she was so helpful. Her guidance, suggestions, and support just made this fic work so much better I think. She helped me pinpoint what I needed to work on and what connected well also. Thanks so much Piper!!!
merlinreversebb : This is my first time doing one of these. I wanted to do specifically this one because I loved that it connected to art. I had plenty of questions and needed more time on some things and the mods were just very nice/supportive. So thank you mods, such a great experience!
~*~
Story Note: I started writing this after 4.09 so it's AU at parts because of that and because I wanted to change elements of what the show did. There is the bracelet spell, but Gwen never went to Ealdor and Morgana didn't turn Gwen into a deer.
Prologue
Deep within the naturally created labyrinth of the woodland, hidden by the escalating mountains, stands a tent of peculiarity, mingled to the shade of the forest growth. Within the tent’s entrance stand two foreboding guards, minimally dressed in silver and black, each sworn to secrecy. Further within the tent are a group of knights, wearing pristine capes of scarlet red, while just in front of them stand an aging man in golden robes, and a younger one in a red-of dawn quilted coat. At the very front is the reason for all the secrecy, a young couple standing in front of an elderly man who recites words from a long ago created book.
The woman wears dusted white with accents of pale gold, and the man wears a bright red tunic, but unlike his knights he has no cape, and his head holds no crown.
Questions of commitment asked, the man in the red tunic happily smiles in answer.
“I do.”
The woman, with the loveliest flowers entwined into her dark curls, hesitates at the question.
“Do you Guinevere of Camelot solemnly vow to…”
She is reflecting…
Months after Agravaine’s execution for treachery, and Morgana’s second disappearance, Arthur Pendragon, king of Camelot, led Guinevere, Camelot servant, to a spot in the wood where curiously much of the plant life was dried out, except for the spectacular roses that grew so brightly and abundantly, the blood of life their flushing color. He picked out a budding one before bending down upon his knee. Then looking up into her eyes of onyx luster, he started it.
“Guinevere, we have faced much this year. I let my uncle fool me. You had that spell put upon you that nearly tore us apart.”
As it quickly became evident to him that this was not the happiest of proposals, he laughed, his shining smile lighting up his face. “Well before I turn this to more rubbish, let me tell you why I brought you here today. For the past year there have been many obstacles we’ve faced, changes, but one thing has remained constant.”
He lifted it toward the sun’s light, causing its golden glow to dance over the flushed petals. “This is a wild red rose, quite appropriate for the occasion I believe because of your love for wild flowers, like the ones you have sprinkled in your hair right now.”
She smiled at that. He was rights as she had entwined lavender ones into her curls earlier that morning. She listened in more as he related that the particular rose he was holding grew freely within the wood, was able to survive much.
As her brow wrinkled, perplexed, Arthur told her the story. “Not long ago there was fire in this area Guinevere. See all the dried plant life.”
She turned curiously, noticing the burnt nature, except for them. “The roses. They were unaffected.”
“Yes. They could have burned away like most the other flowers, but they didn’t. They made it through…” He clasped her hand. “Like we have. And so with that…Will you marry me Guinevere?”
Her dark eyes shone with wonder. This was the second time, the first not going as planned when he banished her because of Morgana’s spell. Now she wasn’t so quick to answer, hesitating so much that his hopeful smile faded. Giving a sigh, she bent down also to her knees, getting surprise to wash over his face as she held tight to his hand.
“Arthur, you’re right. Our love has been tested much and it’s survived like the roses, like this one you offered me. But I’m sorry, I cannot be your queen.”
To that answer he gave a sigh of relief that she wasn’t turning him down completely. After what had happened, he knew that she probably wasn’t yet ready to take the throne. It actually wasn’t what he was asking, aware it regularly brought up painful memories that she was still reluctant to discuss with him.
“I understand. It’s just I’m tired of being apart from you. This way we’ll have to marry away from Camelot, but as long as you’re my wife, I’ll be happy.”
Gwen looked down at their locked fingers and the delicate petals of the rose, the color so brusque, so commanding, like that of the Pendragon symbol, wild warrior red.
“That would make me happy also.”
Arthur lifted their interlocked fingers to his lips, kissing her skin and asking with that boyish smile of his, “Then you will?”
His wishful look was too much, and the thought of being his wife excitedly tantalizing. Even if being queen was something she couldn’t yet willingly grasp for, sharing a commitment with him she fervently desired.
“Yes, Arthur, I will marry you.”
They kissed, lips moist with yearning. He slipped the ring over her finger…again. And then they just sat against the trunk of an aging oak, entwined in each other’s arms until the sun’s descent…
The question is asked once more. Still she says nothing. Concerned, Arthur tightens his hands over hers as they stand in front of family and friends, the audience just these people: Gaius, Merlin, Elyan, Gwaine, Leon and Percival. Other than the guards and Sir Geoffrey presiding over the ceremony, no one else is to know this secret.
…
At a great distance from the tent, hidden behind the tall evergreens of the sharpest mountains, is a wintered cave. Inside of it a woman moves slowly. This has been her home now for months. It is not much better than the hovel she was forced to after her first attempt failed. She is filled with many emotions, but to the foremost is blinding anger. She was supposed to be queen, the celebrated restorer of magic. Instead, she is forced to this dismal existence.
If Agravaine hadn’t been so weak and if it wasn’t for that meddling servant, Emrys too, it most likely would have worked. In the state she is in now she can’t see herself anymore upon a throne. Just revenge would be a sweet dessert.
As she stirs the pot of stew, she feels a presence behind her. Living alone for a long period of time within the untamed woodland, almost swallowed up by the mountains, every noise is prevalent. She turns rapidly, magical words flowing from her lips, her intent to send her intruder flying through the air so he will hit the cave’s wall. Instead, her power is rebutted by a stronger one, and then everything is still.
She peers across the cave’s rocky floor, smoothed only by the rudimentary carpets she has weaved by hand during the most tedious hours of mountain storms. “Who is there?”
“Surely you can see me.”
She grimaces rigidly.
“Or maybe not so much.”
He steps into the light of the fire that brews the stew. A man, he is young with skin pale as the wane moon and hair as dark as hers, although his hangs in limp waves while hers is thick and abundant. She lifts the heavy iron spoon away from the pot to ward him off, chanting ridiculous words as he’s proven how quickly he can counter her.
Indeed he laughs softly, stating, “Surely you can do better than that Morgana. I’m a bit hurt you don’t remember. Although I suppose my powers used to advance my appearance might have to do with that. Now I mean you no harm so you can put down that spoon.”
“Why are you here?”
“Well to see you of course.” Outfitted from head to toe in black, except for a dark green cloak that reaches his ankles, the young man moves to the stew, giving a sniff. “Mmm, I’m famished.”
Eyeing him warily, she takes out the knife she keeps at her waist and since he is in such close proximity now, points it sharply at his chin. Even if he can use magic to remove it, he does not, instead lifting his head cautiously away from the blade’s threatening serrations.
Coldly, she states, “I do not need anyone’s help. Now speak of who you are and then you can leave. The mountains are the scarcest place for food. I have no intention of entertaining visitors tonight to share a meal with that was not easy to come by.”
“And yet what if that visitor is an old friend? Would you share with him?”
The man whispers words of magic, getting a ball of light to appear in the room. It evolves into a picture orb of scenes that happened years ago.
She stares, slowly lowering the blade, transfixed by the images from a time when she was still living in Camelot. “You?” She questions with disbelief.
He smiles slightly, calmly lowering his chin again now that the blade is gone. “Yes, Morgana. Me.”
“But the last time I saw you…you were no more than a child.”
He shrugs. “And the last I saw you, you were living under the king’s roof. Times have changed obviously.”
“You must be at least eighteen years old!”
“Nineteen.” He states casually. “Why the shock? You know I lived among the Druids. They teach many things.”
“Like speeding up the aging process?” She asks with bewilderment, still not entirely sure what to make of him.
“No, that I learned somewhere else.” His eyes dart to the pot. “I really am hungry. I traveled a long way. Transference doesn’t work as well through mountains and I still haven’t perfected it to great distances. Now do you mind?” He gestures before she can answer. “Sit down. I will get you some too.”
He spoons them both some stew and then sits with her at the makeshift table, his expression inquisitive as he lifts long thin fingers meaningfully. “So how did this happen?”
She shields her face for a moment, taking a heavy taste of the stew. It is very hot, making her pull the spoon away from her mouth rapidly, the burn a harsh irritation on her tongue. “I don’t care to talk about it.”
He nods his head, before lowering his spoon, his eyes fixing on hers. “Was it accidental?”
Morgana waves her hand with dismissal. “It doesn’t matter. I care about its metaphysical effects more than the cosmetic ones.”
“But was it accidental?” He asks again insistently. “Because if not, wouldn’t you like to get avengement, Morgana? I know there is someone I would like to make atone for past grievances.”
“Who, Mordred?” She asks, using his name.
He shakes his head with a slow smile, gesturing, “You tell me who did that to you first. As I’m sure it’s quite an interesting story. Then I’ll tell you mine.”
…
Back at the tent, the private ceremony comes to completion. Gwen finally has answered and now they all celebrate with hugs and congratulatory declarations, such a happy peaceful time.
And yet that peace is so fragile for the reunion of Morgana and Mordred can only lead to the impending storm.
~*~
DAY ONE: Visitors
Six Months Later:
If you looked high enough you could see them, the snowy mountains wrapped around Camelot. They played their little battle with the sun as spring was begging for its entrance, trying to enchant the hovering clouds with tiny flowers spreading throughout the trees. To that Merlin smiled, happy that soon enough they would be able to shake off the bitter cold.
Busily scrubbing at the king’s piles of armor he noticed the guards at the gates coming to attention. Since Agravaine’s betrayal and Morgana’s near total decimation of Camelot, the patrols were doubly cautious.
“Halt there.”
As the familiar questions started, Merlin turned to the training grounds. Regularly now Arthur was in a hospitable mood for good reason, but after an unpleasant visit with the King of Anglia, he was sore minded, working each of the knights to the bone. At least the king hadn’t made him a target…yet.
Merlin turned back to the guards, one of them questioning the stranger who was dressed in leather and an oak shaded tunic.
“What was that you said?”
The stranger, sporting a beard and rusted brown hair cut close to his head, frowned angrily. “How many times do I have to tell you this? I’m friends with one of your knights, been so for years. Just coming to visit.”
“You will have to prove yourself then.”
Merlin watched with amusement as the stranger gave a shrill whistle and yelled out loudly. “HEY PERC! TELL THEM YOU KNOW ME!”
That holler brought the training to a sudden halt. They all turned, Percival especially. Seeing the man standing there with the guards at the gates, Percival’s expression widened to a full grin. “Valen, is that you?”
Percival slid his sword quickly into its hold as the king stood back, watching the visitor with wry curiosity.
“WELL YES! Now will you get these silver nosed men off my back? They’re bloody bothering me with their long toothed attire.”
Merlin noticed how even Arthur looked amused now, telling his knight, “Better go see to him then Percival.”
The knight grinned, running over with a huge grin. Going straight past the guards, he came to the bearded man, clasping him in a friendly hug. “Valen!”
Merlin watched as Valen smirked, giving a little pull of one of the guard’s helmets by the nose piece, setting it slightly askew, playfully. “Until next time fellows!”
Percival stopped off at Merlin first, stating he had someone for him to meet. As he teased about who he was, the friend teased back, even accusing him of ‘being a royal blanket sweeper’. Percival rolled his eyes at that telling Merlin, “Don’t listen to him. Has no morals.” More jibing occurred thus, making Merlin laugh. Then Percival put a stop to it, finally making the introductions.
“Merlin, this is Valen. And Valen, this is Merlin.”
As they shook hands, a voice added to Percival’s words ironically. “Yes, Merlin, my hapless servant.”
Merlin gave a face at that as Percival turned to the king with barely contained excitement.
“Sire, this is Valen, been friends practically since we were kids.” He turned to his friend warningly, “Valen, mind your manners. This is the king, not some easy to beat bandit.”
Merlin heard Arthur chuckle at that as he offered his hand. “Welcome to Camelot, Valen. Plan to stay a while?”
Valen actually did show a bit of protocol, slightly bowing before he smiled cordially at the king. “Probably not. Just came by for a visit to see my bear of a friend Percival here.”
Arthur nodded. “Right then. Well how about lunch? You can join us Valen. A friend of Percival’s is a friend of Camelot.”
Soon enough he added,
“MERLIN. Get lunch for us then.”
The servant rolled his eyes. Cabbage Head.
~*~
Entering her tiny home, Gwen yawned as day turned to night. With a group of noble visitors that departed yesterday and a new party to come within a day, the palace work was quite toilsome at the moment. At least with the King of Anglia’s departure, the man who had irked Arthur so terribly with his bothersome political talk, they’d get a tiny reprieve before the next one.
Gwen hung her lavender cloak and smoothed out the brushed pale burgundy dress she was wearing. Then looking down at her dining table, she spotted a bright red flower with a note next to it.
See you soon. After the meeting with the council.
She closed her eyes, smelling the earthy floral scent of the wild rose.
“Mmm…fragrant, yes. But doesn’t quite smell as good as you, does it?”
Gwen smiled lazily at the familiar voice, not bothering to open her eyes to look down upon the hands circling her waist now. Taking it out of her pocket, where she regularly hid it during the day, and slipping the ring over her finger, she sighed. “I thought you’d be longer with the council. I haven’t even had time to get dinner ready yet.”
The hands turned her around. She looked up to his answering smile, soon feeling the wet heat of his lips against hers, before he spoke. “I have a different kind of hunger right now.”
It had been three days this time they had to keep their distance.
She fingered her hand into his white tunic hungrily. “Me too.”
He pulled her toward the room’s rear. Feeling the softness of her cot come against her back, Gwen let the rose fall to the other end.
~*~
As night commenced, Merlin led Valen to the chambers he shared with Gaius, glad Percival managed to get him to stay. “It’s not much. Well actually for me it’s a lot, but might not be that big of a deal to you. Or might. Not sure what you’re used to.”
Valen laughed at that, placing his hand upon Merlin’s shoulder. “I spend half my time on the cold hard ground Merlin. Ask Perc, I’m a traveler at heart. Never been able to stay in one place, getting my sister to rant at me regularly for being that way. Anyway, to have a cot size bed is a true luxury.”
Merlin smiled with appreciation. “Well great then. Gaius and I are happy to have you.”
~*~
“Stop. Don’t come closer. I will…”
Arthur woke to the familiar troubled murmurs of sound. Her bed was tiny so they always slept extraordinarily close together, especially after the first time they shared it he had learned his lesson. That night he landed harshly upon the floor, smacking his head with a loud crack that made her sit up straight in bed. This, after their previous intimate makings of love, was not how they thought they’d spend their first evening as man and wife together. So for now on, he burrowed in close, making her laugh with amusement.
“Stay away from me…get back…”
Amusement was definitely far from his mind at the moment. After the banishment, it was Guinevere who first found out Agravaine and Morgana’s plans. She came back to Camelot, a dirtied heap, wearing a revealing outfit gifted to her by Helios.
On Agravaine’s orders the then attending knights, men who barely knew Guinevere, aimed to kill her before she could reach the gates. Hearing her frantic yells and seeing the unmistakable flurry of curls, Arthur gave the desperate order to put down their arms just in time. No longer caring about what had transpired in the past with her and Lancelot, not yet aware it was a spell of course, he raced to the woman he loved.
Then within moments Camelot was under attack and his uncle’s treachery became clear. Arthur was devastated by it, had to evacuate his beloved kingdom because of it, but soon was aided by Isolde and Tristan, defenders who believed in his way of rule. It was later Merlin oddly enough who directed him to a very special sword, the kind Arthur had never seen in his life.
Armed with a purpose, they all left their temporary refuge in Merlin’s hometown of Ealdor, returning to Camelot to reclaim it for the people. Many lives were sadly lost, including Isolde’s.
During those most climactic events, Guinevere and Morgana found themselves trapped together underneath the castle inside its cavernous tunnels. There, something happened that his wife would not recount in detail. Often, however, it resurfaced in her dreams.
“Oh…how could you…why…what have I done to you…I won’t let you…won’t let…no…NO!”
He supposed if he was a heartless man he could solve the mystery by allowing the dream to continue. But this was the woman who owned his heart.
Gently he grasped her shoulder.
“Shhh…alright now. It’s alright Guin…it’s alright.”
“Mmm.” She frowned, slowly drifting out of the dream. “Arthur?”
“Expecting someone other than your husband?” He joked, hoping to get her to calm some.
For that bit of silliness he got a firm slap on his shoulder and a wry look. She sat up a little, half modestly bringing the blanket over her bared body.
Arthur held tight to her waist, one hand lifting over her breast to caress. He whispered against her cheek. “Another one?”
Gwen nodded her head and Arthur lowered to the bed, bringing her down with him so her back pressed against his chest. “You keep having these dreams Guinevere.”
Her hand moved backward, flattening against him. “Arthur.”
He sighed, but relented as that was the usual warning. He felt her turn around in his arms and the flush rise of her breasts suddenly against his chest as she changed the tone of conversation.
“I’m hungry.”
A little chuckle escaped his mouth as he played with the ring around her finger. “I think if we proceed again I might be a little bow legged tomorrow at training practice.”
“I meant, I would like some food. Wouldn’t you?” She clarified.
He gave a half pout, before smirking chivalrously. “Sure.”
He assisted her in dressing, wondering what part of dinner he’d be helping out with this time. A few nights ago she made him chop the onions. Blasted potent things. Made him cry like a baby.
~*~
“Will Valen be sharing dinner with us?”
Merlin gave a negative as he assisted Gaius in bringing the chicken and the bread to the table. “Don’t think so. Said he was tired from the road travel and wanted to get some rest.”
“Well yes, the long trip had to have made him weary.”
Merlin agreed as they sat down. He bit into his chicken with smiling approval. “Mmm, this…is…good.”
“Well thank you Merlin.” Gaius replied to Merlin’s complement. “I must say I find it quite delicious myself…”
They finished off their meal with comfortable chatter, a touch of the customary complaints about Arthur’s ordering Merlin around, talk about some childhood illnesses occurring in the outer villages, and the rest dealing with just ordinary palace matters. As Gaius started to clear the table, Merlin thought he’d give a friendly check to see how Valen was doing. Opening the door just slightly, his eyes widened.
No one was there. Valen had disappeared.
And with a tight grimace, Merlin knew just where to.
~*~
Gwen finished putting the rest of the ingredients into the pot, taking the knife and onions from the teary eyed Arthur with a chuckle.
He looked like he was ready to hunt her down.
“This is not funny.”
“Oh yes it is.” She moved around, feeling a wave of unsteadiness. Arthur’s hands caught her before she tripped.
“Careful!”
Seeing concern edge at his brows, she pointed downward. “Your fault. Almost tripped over your big feet.”
He pouted with complaint. “Oh it was me, was it?”
“Yes.” She teased, giving him a frolicking kiss.
~*~
“I might have known.”
“Merlin!” The knights and Valen called out to him with joyous insobriety at the back of the tavern, each saddled with a tall filled-to-the-brim mug of adult refreshment. They all greeted him with sloppy grins and slurred speech.
As Merlin stalked over with a disapproving expression, Percival warned, “Oh-oh boys! Merlin looks as mad as a dragon!”
Of course they all laughed at that. Every single one of them believed that Merlin couldn’t hurt a fly. If they knew that he was actually quite close with a dragon they might think twice about getting him angry.
“Valen, I thought you said you were tired.”
Merlin sat down atop one of the barstools. Valen gave him a sloshed look of apology, scratching his beard sheepishly. “Sorry there Merlin. Couldn’t pass through town without visiting the local tavern.”
“For that you get one on me Valen!” Gwaine piped in, giving a holler to the haggard barkeep. “Another one for my mate here! Oh and get one for Merlin too.”
“No-
But Percival was already keeping him in place with his bear strength. He supposed he could do a little magical trick and no one would be the wiser, with almost everyone inebriated, but probably best not to chance it. Oh, this wouldn’t end up well. Arthur already believed he spent half his life in the tavern thanks to Gaius’s not so clever excuses when he was away working his magic to save the cabbage head’s life.
Leon spoke out as the two new drinks were slammed down on the table, Gwaine letting out a ‘Whoa!’ at the disgruntled barkeep. The hefty man just ignored him.
“Valen, you aren’t really planning on leaving tomorrow, are you? You’ll miss the Princess Elanor’s visit.”
The bearded man’s ears perked up at that. “Oh, and who is this Princess Elanor?”
Percival grinned. “She’s quite lovely and yet to be taken…”
“Sounds perfect.” Valen said with rapid approval.
Merlin rolled his eyes, his head already feeling heavy from whatever it was Gwaine ordered him.
Fantastic. Tomorrow he’d be supremely clumsy to which Arthur would do his usual complaining. It was Valen’s fault for sneaking out, who was on the receiving end now of some knightly coercion.
“Alright, alright, you convinced me! I’ll hang around long enough to see the princess.” Valen took a chug of his drink. Merlin noticed with irritation that the brawny man didn’t seem as affected as he was getting.
Was there a new mug in front of him? He barely finished the last!
“I don’t get it.” Valen stated with a slight frown. “She’s a princess you said, right? Isn’t your king interested in her at all?”
No one said anything for a moment, lots of grins hiding behind the mugs, but then Leon commented with a casual smile. “Oh she’ll be sitting with him for sure as she is royalty, but I’m not entirely certain she’s the king’s type.”
“What, he prefers queens?” Valen asked. Merlin watched through his blurring vision as Elyan and Gwaine exchanged knowing looks.
“Sort of.” Leon answered.
~*~
With dinner over, Gwen was sitting on the edge of Arthur’s lap, feeling his fingers weaving through her curls of hair. “So…” She stated with a touch of annoyance. “The word around the castle is that Princess Elanor is quite taken by you.”
Arthur’s brows scrunched upward. “Eh. I haven’t even met her yet.”
“Well she’s heard so much about you.” Gwen related tightly.
Arthur grasped his wife’s small waist, turning her easily within his hands so she was facing him more directly. “Let me guess. The ladies of the court are gossiping again.”
“Humph.”
Arthur laughed at that, running his hand through Guinevere’s hair with emphasis. She was the last person he would ever call petty, but some of the ladies of the court could try the patience of a minister. And most of them had yet to be in a committed relationship so they liked to talk about everyone else’s lives, especially his.
“Guin, stop listening to them. If they knew what you had they’d be jealous.” He gave her a satisfactory peck on the nose.
Gwen smarted. “Oh! So you’re quite the catch, yes?”
Arthur grinned. “Of course I am.”
Gwen squeezed at his cheeks and chin. Then before he could push her hand away, she gave him a quick kiss of dismissal. “Well, King Quite the Catch, since she carries such a torch for you, I wish you both a lovely time tomorrow night.”
Arthur shook his head at that, thinking how she was a bit moody tonight. He brought her face down to his, capturing Guinevere’s lips with his own for a much longer and delving kiss, telling her afterward, “I am a married man and so whether she carries a torch or not doesn’t matter.”
Gwen frowned at that with a touch of shame. “I’m being foolish.”
Arthur smiled, his hand climbing up her leg. “Well I’m not complaining. It’s flattering having the woman you love being sort of possessive.”
Gwen groaned. It wasn’t just tomorrow night. Soon he’d be leaving again...
“Where is your mind tonight?” She distantly heard him ask as Arthur’s lips ardently traversed her neck. “Come back to me.”
“So demanding sometimes.” She chastised.
That brought an impetuous grin to his face as suddenly she was up in the air, surrounded by his strong arms. “Arthur!” She cried out with a giggle.
He ran to her bed, the short distance so minimal that he stubbed his toe on its end, letting out a howl, and nearly dropped her in the process.
She couldn’t help but giggle as he nursed it with a solid pout.
Would he ever learn that the parameters of her little home were a lot tighter than that of his grand chambers?
*
Note: Thank you for reading. Feedback is adored. This is a long story so I hope you enjoy and take your time reading the following chapters. 'Shattered...' readers I'm so sorry for the long wait. It was never intended. I just had a deadline and had to make sure I got this up first. I'll be back soon with an update. It's still all finished/just takes time to edit. That story has two more parts before it wraps up. Thanks.
Oh and everyone be sure to check out the beautiful art for this story. The links are above along with all my kudos to the people who helped me get this story up and make it what it is...thank you!
Day Two