Shared Chambers: Evermore {II}
Shared Chambers: Evermore
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The morning is a slightly hazy one with intervals of sun. Early hours, it starts out busily.
Lady Eleanor, who has a young daughter of half past two years of age, needs someone to tend to her child while she marks her husband’s recent death with a private ceremony. He is sadly a casualty of Camlann.
Eleanor’s handmaiden is ill with a persistent cough and does not want to make the child sick too. There are of course others who could be watching her, but Gwen offers to do it herself, coveting a task to keep her busy and also relishing the company of a young one.
Now, after getting the girl, who is a burst of energy, to sleep in her arms for a morning’s nap, she recalls the last time the toddler was here, a happier time, when sweet Alena still had a father.
That day, events started to go awry quickly. Her husband was in their chambers at the moment also because he had hours’ time before a knighting ceremony.
“It will just be for a few moments Arthur.”
He eyes her warily. “Moments?”
Gwen smiles comfortingly. This day is a busy one for the kingdom, what with a visiting duchess.
It was at first expected that the duchess would arrive during afternoon hours.
Well, unfortunately, according to the frantic Camelot guard, it is now understood she will be within the kingdom’s gates in a few precious moments. Seems the duchess is one who likes to be exceptionally early.
Alena is at that very interesting age of the beginning two’s. Taking her down to meet the duchess doesn’t seem that great an idea to Gwen.
“Tell me why again you won’t just let one of the servants watch her.”
Gwen shakes her head strongly. “Because Arthur, all of the servants have been preparing for the duchess’s visit and now are desperately rushing to get their tasks done. Meanwhile I’m going to do my best to ward her off.
Look, if deemed more preferable, you could entertain her, the duchess that is, while I continue to watch Alena.”
Arthur makes a face. “Uh, no. The last time she came she drove my father and I crazy with all her demands, boring stories and lofty ways.”
“That’s what I thought you would say.” Gwen states with a busy smile. “Just this one favor my husband.”
Arthur’s eyebrows go up. “Oh now I’m your husband.”
Gwen shrugs. “You’re always my husband.”
She is playing with his hair, as his hands grasp her waist. “Yes, but when it’s something you desire that I’m probably not going to like much, it’s ‘my’ husband.”
“Oh Arthur.” Gwen gives him a gentle appeasing nose kiss, tapping his cheek afterward. “So you’ll do it?”
“Moments?”
“Moments Arthur. It really shouldn’t take longer than that. Alena probably won’t wake until I get back. Okay?”
Pressing his mouth to hers, he gives her a firmer kiss. “Alright. Should be harmless then.”
…
Things have a way of falling by the wayside at the most inopportune times. What is supposed to be moments, turns into an hour. During that time little cute Alena wakes up, deciding that Arthur’s many tools of arsenal, which are all laid out on the table for the knighting ceremony, are quite interesting. Especially his sword.
Finally getting a reprieve, Gwen starts to enters hers and Arthur’s chambers with Eleanor when they hear the interesting bits of Arthur’s first child-sitting experience.
“swooood…mine.”
“No, not yours. Mine.”
Alena doesn’t like that negative response.
“Mmmmgggtrr…”
“Oh oh oh…alright!” Arthur lets the little girl touch the pommel, keeping her fussy hands away from the rest of the dangerous object. Eleanor starts to rush to intervene, not wanting her child to be bothering the king or get hurt, but Gwen holds back the noble woman’s arm. “Wait. Let’s see what happens next.”
Alena is not happy with just the handle. She wants to touch more of the sword. In fact she wants to touch all the other shiny things on the table too. It takes some strenuous effort, but Arthur gets Alena’s mind off the things on the table eventually.
Problem now?
Her new toy that she finds quite interesting is his hair. It is so fascinating in fact that she starts yanking the fine strands with her tiny determined fingers.
“Ow. Now you don’t want to pull people’s hair.”
“Pulllllll!”
“Ah-no---OWW! You have a grip stronger than a knight’s---AW-ow!”
Gwen is finding it hard not to have a giggle fit.
Eleanor whispers, “We should put him out of his misery.”
Gwen shakes her head. “Wait.”
It seems Arthur has an idea to prevent the toddler from pulling all his hair out. He sits little Alena down on the chair and lowers himself to all fours.
“Alright, climb on.”
“Horsey!”
He nods his head vigorously. “Yeah…horsey!”
Gwen smacks her hand against her mouth to keep from bursting into laughter as Arthur literally starts riding around their chambers, neighing here and giving a whinny there. It’s obvious Alena is thoroughly enjoying it, an excited shine to her face as she pulls hard on the horsey’s reigns…unfortunately for Arthur, once again his hair. He grins and bears it the best he can though, letting out the random ‘ouch!’
Then he starts to tell her amusingly about his time being a donkey and how he quite likes being a horsey better than a donkey.
“A goblin, ugly little creature, got in the castle and acted terribly!”
“Gobbbbblin!”
“Yes!”
“Made me a donkey, but it’s much better being a horsey!”
“Horsey better than donkey!”
“Yes yes!”
“Horsey naaaayyy!”
“You want me to neigh more?”
“Yes, horsey naaaaay!”
Arthur gives a grumble. Neighing gets quite annoying after a while, but Alena is insistent and so…
“Brrroooa…naaaaaaaayyyy!”
This time Gwen loses it, laughing so hard, she nearly falls over.
Eleanor tries to smile politely, but it is over for her too.
Arthur cocks his head to the side, just like a horse would, in surprise. Alena jumps off of him excitedly, Arthur’s hands helping her safely get down.
She runs to her mother and exclaims, gesturing toward Arthur. “Mama…hooorsey!”
Gwen makes her way to him, laughing. Standing, with a touch of indignation, Arthur latches onto his wife’s waist. “So you thought that was funny, eh?”
“Very.”
He rolls his eyes, mocking her earlier pledge. “*Moments*. More like hours, Guinevere.”
She calmly corrects him. “One hour. And I’m sorry. The Duchess just wouldn’t let up.”
He sighs. “Yeah, I know how that is. Last time she came she drove every servant Camelot has batty.”
Gwen’s listening to him, trying to anyways, but she can’t help notice it.
Reaching upward, she pats down his ‘horsey’ hair, which is a-twist and a-tangle from one direction to another.
Eleanor thanks Arthur and Gwen, set to leave them to some peace and quiet, but before she makes it to the door, little Alena runs back to the king.
“Play horseeeey…aggggan?” She asks.
He squats down with a grin. “Yeah…another day.”
Her little hands reach out and hug him. Giving a happy blush, Arthur hugs her back.
…
When they’re gone, Gwen’s hands gather around Arthur’s waist. “I want to play horsey sometime too.”
He grins. “Okay.”
“Mmm…” She lets go and wanders away, but then he’s latching on, swinging her up into his arms and stating boldly, “Right now sounds good!”
“Arthur…the knighting ceremony!” She half giggles and warns as he drops her upon the bed and crawls onto it to friskily join her.
“Oh, we have an hour. Plenty of moments to play…hooooorsey!”
“You crazy man…you!” She laughs and then…
…rides…
The memory of what happened after makes her flush with feeling for a fast moment; it was quite amorous.
It is the sweetness of how he was with Alena though that makes her smile with lasting fondness as right now her emotions are delved in the sentimental.
It’s that fun and lively remembrance of Arthur riding around the room, neighing crazily, while little Alena pulls on his ‘reigns’ to get him to go even faster that fills her. Gazing down at the sleeping little girl in her arms, she kisses her forehead and recalls it further.
Riding here…riding there…from one side to another…
She can visualize him, silly, adorable, on all fours, giving a neigh and squinting as Alena’s hands sometimes held his hair too hard. Galloping on his knees from one part of their chambers to anoth-
The picture etiolates and fades. It oddly starts to float out of her head. Out of her heart. Out of the room.
Out of…
Gwen gets this hollow feeling. It ascends through her stomach, into her heart. It holds there. It clutches. Coldly. Bitterly.
“No…” She whispers, her lips trembling.
There is no declaration spoken in words or any strong vision of prediction. There is no deep pain in her body, any paralyzing anguish. There is no cry of horror from her mouth.
However, maybe there need not be, for ever so quietly, so gravely, she simply feels it.
Something is different.
Something is not there anymore.
There is just this hole, this gaping hole that brings the tears to her eyes.
“No.” She whispers, as thin as a shallow breeze.
“No. Please. No.”
The little girl murmurs in her sleep and so Gwen holds her more securely, her face pressing into the sweet scented hair.
…
When it is time for Alena to go, her noble friend asks if she is alright. Gwen nods, best she can with her husband still missing.
But it is a lie.
The door closes and Gwen’s back presses against it. She scans the room, coveting to see the vision of him, of his playing horsey, his fun side, his charming silly one.
There is the amorous facet of passionate culmination, their constitutions naked and satiated by love.
There is the warm endeavor of lying together in bed, arms embracing each.
Watching him change behind the screen with a wife’s appreciative smile…
Sharing the waters of a hot luxurious bath, scrubbing each other’s bodies intimately…
Moment to moment…
Marital, private ones…
So many chambers moments.
Precious always in constitution. In heart.
Evermore.
They find no sight now. Each time she tries to envision a moment, the image seems to fade before it can fill her anxious eyes.
She pushes her hand strongly against her heart, but nothing has changed from the moment his ‘horsey’ image etiolated.
Something, something she cannot describe, cannot tell with sense of mind, with any firmness of belief…something is gone.
“Arthur let me be wrong…let me please…”
She sinks down to the floor, clutching her heart with trembling fingers.
With the ugly continuance of fading images.
…
The night is a long one of her clasping to his pillow and slipping his white tunic over her chilled body. In a few fingers is held fast the Royal Seal. She pleads for it to be returned to him.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
The days pass. One to two. Her heart is still fervently holding on. Holes poke through the remembrances. Each time her eyes see him, the picture dulls to murky ponds of near extinction of thought.
Nearly not there. Nearly there enough to contain ache of hope.
It gnaws at her, this intrepid uneasiness. She holds his seal with anxious fingers, standing at his bedside in the early morning hours. She touches his things, his comb, his medallion that he wears upon his cloak for ceremonial occasion.
The waiting crawls up her skin, inches through her flesh, making her hope, making her wonder, making her cycles away from a scream. It does not pause, it does not give consolation, the weak passing of time.
This day she hears something of interest though.
Turning away from her husband’s things she hears it again, firm knocking at the door. Gwen moves away from the bed furniture, gazes down at her state of dress for a second. Changed into her lavender gown she is in appropriate wear. Unclasping the lock and opening the door further she sees his tall strong stature.
“Percival.”
There is sweat in his face from riding for days it looks like, dirt upon his clothing, lack of luster to his chainmail, horrid redness upon his wrists, and a flat line to his lips. “My Lady.” He whispers.
She looks beyond him and back to his raw wrists. “Are you alright? Where is Gwaine? I thought he went with you. That was what Gaius told me, that you two left during Eira’s hanging.”
He nods slowly. “I’m okay…and we did.”
“You wanted to find Morgana, yes?”
“Yeah.” Percival states, the words being dragged out slowly, hesitantly.
“And did you find her?”
It’s that slow nod again. “We did. I got her with my sword, but I guess it wasn’t enough, a sorceress like her. She imprisoned us, tortured Gwaine to find out where Merlin and Arthur were heading.”
Gwen’s eyes widen with shock. “Did she find out?”
“Gwaine’s dead.” Percival states dully.
Gwen’s stomach gives a raw uncomfortable tickle, and yet her heart still is seeking something else. “Oh no. I wish you two hadn’t left. Going against her alone, you had such little chance.”
Percival shakes his head hard, always the gentle giant knight with the shiniest disposition, he is now a face of graven anger and sadness. “We had to. She murdered so many of ours. Gwaine had to. He was one of the best knights ever, like Elyan and…”
Percival’s voice drifts off, full of pain that collides with a barely tempered fury. Gwen moves forward, clutching at his arm, pressing her hand gently into it. “You are right. Gwaine was very brave and I know he meant well always. He will be missed so much, just like Elyan, just like…”
Her voice drifts off as she needs to know more. “Did you come back right after? I have to ask since you’ve been gone for about two days. Did it take you long to find Morgana?”
Percival looks down at the floor, his focus descended there like every bit of stone, crack and line, bump and color, are an entirety of interest. Gwen presses against his arm again. “Percival.”
Slowly they travel back up, his blue eyes filled with something beyond the anger and pain.
“What else happened?” Gwen asks tightly.
It seems wrong to him that he be the one to tell her this. Percival remembers a time when he had so many brothers in arms, when he was new and yet they accepted him into Camelot with excitement.
Then Lancelot was gone, Elyan afterward, and now Gwaine…
And…
He didn’t call himself Prince Arthur then like he could.
Just…Arthur.
Knighting him within hours of knowing him. Trusting him already so fast. So faithfully.
So many alive. So many brothers. And now so many de-
“Percival.”
Gwen cuts through his deep reverie, seeing something in his face that talons at her heart.
“Morgana is dead now too. I found her corpse near the island of Avalon.”
It is like her stomach drops. Gwen holds onto her breast, getting Percival to move closer, but she lifts her hand, a slight brush away. “By who?”
The sorrowed and weary knight shakes his head. The lightness that has always been him is now not so gentle and sweet as before. These days and especially this battle have changed him forever. Oh he will not go down roads of fury and vengeance, but he is also not so young anymore, not so green to the ugliness of death.
“I don’t know for sure. I’m supposing Merlin or…maybe even Arthur.”
Gwen’s hand entrenches her heart as she asks shakily, hopefully, “Arthur did you see you him? Where is he?”
There is no drip of hope though in Percival’s face as he recalls, as he reaches out for his queen’s hand. “My Lady…”
It is dread. Just icy cold dread that starts weaving a bitter path through her body now. “Where IS he Percival? Where is my husband?”
Husband. King. Friend. He didn’t have to knight him years ago. He could have held back. He could have told him he was not noble, but that was never Arthur Pendragon.
That was never…
He feels Gwen’s hand leave his with a fast fury. Percival tries to look away, but her eyes are hard on his and so he has to look back. Has to see her tiny little string of longing.
“When I got to the island, to its edge, I saw nothing at first and then…”
He stops. Shakes a little.
Gwen grasps his hand hard. “Saw what, Percival?”
He looks down to her needing eyes. So beautiful like her, their queen. Arthur has always called her that, beautiful, in moments of pride and happiness to be married and so in love. Arthur has displayed her beauty to everyone often by giving her a turn on the dance floor so all can see.
They are each others. They are a unit. They are Camelot’s King and-
“What…Percival?” She asks insistently, but it is all there in the tear that starts to fall from his eye. It is all in the dread filling her body and sucking at her heart.
“What?” She asks brokenly.
He shakes his head, wishing this was some evil nightmare.
But sadly it is not.
This is how it ends.
“A boat.”
“Oh…” Gwen’s hand clutches her mouth sickeningly. She has seen a boat before upon the Lake of Avalon. She knows its meaning.
“With Merlin in it too?” She asks though hopefully, maybe the possibility that Merlin was taking Arthur to be saved. To be-
“No.” Percival states softly. “Arthur was in it alone. On his back. Eyes-c-closed. He was d-dead Gwen.”
It clenches her heart and stomach all at once making her let out a moan that stretches from the core to the crest. From her lungs to her mouth.
“Oooohhh…”
She nearly stumbles forward, but for Percival’s hands deftly reaching out and keeping her steady against his strong chest.
“OH…no, no, no no…NO…”
She cries, a shriek of agony that smashes away the last bit of hope.
She is not aware of much more as Percival does his best to keep her in his hold, to keep her from falling as her legs lose their rhythm, her feet no longer supply the base, and her stomach roils with pain.
This feels so wrong. It shouldn’t even be him doing this, he thinks. It should have been her brother or even Lancelot. But now they’re all gone, Gwaine too, her husband. She is alone and in pain. He is the one left, once new, now the old.
He hears it, her repeated moans of anguish, of loss and helps her, keeping his hand tightly around her waist as he guides her to the bed so she can sit down upon it. And then he backs away just a bit, hearing the terrible sound of her grief.
“Oh no…Arthur, Arthur…oh my Arthur, no, no…oh please no…”
Gwen does not feel as one of his hands stays anxiously at her side. She does not see him standing in front of her, his face lined with so many miseries. She only feels the hollow stab of her body as now Arthur is with certainty separated from her.
Is gone from her world.
…
She is given a tonic for sleep shortly afterward. Council members want to know what is going on and other things about the kingdom, but Gaius and Percival tell them to go away, that they will learn more later. With the tonic Gwen does find sleep, but there are bits of the night where she awakens, seeks out his presence and then remembers.
And then cries.
And moans.
Not wanting to believe it. Not wanting to accept it.
Her father. Her brother.
And now…
Her Arthur.
Her heart.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
“We cannot go on like this.”
“Yes, she has to do something!”
“An announcement must be made!”
“Tell her-
Gwen enters the council room, seeing the wild disarray of its members. Wearing her red royal gown she stops in the middle as their conversation ceases. In her fingers is the Royal Seal.
Leon moves to her side, frowning at the bickering council members and then eyeing her softly. “I’m sorry My Lady. They are just-
She brings her hand up, her face one of sorrow fill. “Concerned about the kingdom. Yes, I know.”
She directs her attention to the council members. “Your impatience is troubling as you should know I regard this kingdom no less than my husband did. Now it will never be the same without King Arthur. Never fully the same. But I will not let it fall into shambles either. So the announcement will be made today.”
…
As it is.
Gwen, holding Arthur’s Royal Seal, now hers to use for command, signals to Leon and he makes the announcement. She eyes Percival at the front, who echoes the call to serve her. He is full of despondence as is she.
…
Another night comes and another day with a bird as a messenger. It leaves a note for her that she reads within chambers. Gwen scans those chambers with a sad opaqueness to her eyes. It has been there since Arthur’s death, since her agonized moans turned to nothing more than royal purpose and squash on feeling.
It is like her body still moves, but her emotion is deceased.
It died with him.
Sitting down upon the long bench seat of lavender near the window, Gwen unfolds the note and begins to read.
‘Gwen,
I am sorry. Please forgive me. I tried.
I failed.
I couldn’t get him there in time.
I couldn’t save Arthur.’
“Oh.” She sighs brokenly.
Merlin’s words are full of pain and self incrimination and the usual would be for her to have sympathetic emotion for his misery. For she is sure he is in his own personal purgatory right now. She is finding it hard enough to understand her own feelings now though, let alone Merlin’s. Grief has so many stages, ones she’s sadly acquainted with, but this time there is a stark difference.
The loss of Arthur feels like the loss of a piece of her body. Even that day while watching Alena she felt his presence leave her world. And now days later she succumbs herself into her work. She pushes herself to continue Arthur’s rule with purpose and authority because that is the only way it seems to spend moments and hours without dissolving into tears or wanting to throw something against the wall in hope of ending it.
The endless drone of this new life. This sad half existence. She wants no part of it. Gwen has never held to pride or greed. And she wants none of that now. Always her life has been one of peace and order, but all that feels tampered with now. All that is ajar and skewed. Her heart is a hollow piece and her mind is out of order.
She is living by monotony, by what is ordained, but not anymore by the wonder of circumstance or the happy element of surprise.
She shakes her head away from her reverie and goes back to reading.
‘I need to tell you more. I have magic, Gwen. I always have. I was born with it. I have used it just to protect Arthur-those he loves. I swear. I’ve only wanted to serve him and now that is gone, I just, I can’t go back to Camelot. That’s why I’m sending this by messenger. I feel-ashamed. I should have done more. I wish I could have.
In the end Arthur knew of my magic and he accepted it. He…Gwen he was my friend. Like you are. I hope you still are.
I’m sorry once more. Maybe one day you and I will talk again, but for the moment I must stay away. I need to do something…I need to serve my purpose.
You were my first friend in Camelot, Gwen, and I love you, my friend. I will always.
Goodbye…
For now.
Merlin Emrys’
He uses that second part of his name that Gaius has told her is large in history and of great importance to the Druid people. Well then why did they not help her husband? Why did Merlin not seek assistance from them?
Why? Why?
So many why’s. So many questions that are brutal and less fair than keeping a mouth shut. But she wants to know. She wants to delve into the bitter to ward off the pain of the night.
Oh the night.
…
Soon, after a day of toiling, working with the council, helping Leon setting up the patrol, and eating a few bites of supper here and there, her stomach not able to take much more, evening is there, the moon bright, and sleep fills most of the castle.
Apart from the tending guardsmen, apart from Camelot’s Queen.
She lies within the blankets, holding onto his pillow like she has since he had gone missing, and quietly whimpers into it.
Her body had grown so used to even after long treks, his being back, his arms surrounding her waist, stomach, gently rubbing her nipple, caressing her breast, fingering between her thighs intimately, his lips against her cheek, her neck and face. It had grown used to the fine hairs upon his chest, the hardness of his muscle, the way his feet pushed against her ankles sometimes because they grew cold in the middle of the night, or the way he would grasp the covers so tightly to himself and she would have to nudge them away from his greedy big fingers.
That snore that would start out softly and sometimes rise in timbre too much that she’d bring her finger across his nose, nudging it, and feel him make a throaty sound, feel his body shift, so that his snoring stopped…for long moments before it found its way to start again. And she groaned with exasperation.
Some nights would be so cold that they’d scurry under the covers together like two crazy rabbits. Other nights, so warm, they’d just lightly hold each other and grimace at their discomforts.
Some nights romantic. Others weary. Some passionate. Some of conversation.
And now all that is gone.
Gwen thinks of them, those precious nights, and feels the tightness in her breath, the bulk of pain form in her throat and the tears well in her eyes before they fall to the pair of pillows like a shower of rain.
“Arthur…I never wanted this. I never wanted Camelot without you. I never…”
The night is the most dreaded because it is the loneliest. The storm of emotion no longer has a protocol fence to lock it in. The hollow pain is the deepest and the cold is the most bitter. Or the sweating heat too ugly hot.
It is when she lays for hours until her eyes can take no more of the brutal punishment of insomnia.
But when they close, the dreams come on, and sometimes the chimera of feeling is too much to find any true slumber.
…
Another night. Another unwanted dream. She pushes against his pillow, her tears falling again.
And feels it. A touch. A touch so soft. So softly familiar.
A hush.
Shhh…don’t cry
She stirs.
No.
I’ll never leave you. I promise that.
Gwen’s eyes open starkly. She whispers, “Arthur?”
I’m here Guinevere. I always will be. Evermore...
Never…leave…
Evermore…
She sits up in the bed, her breath fast as she grasps her breast. “Arthur? Arthur!”
There is nothing there. No one there.
And yet…
She felt something upon her shoulder. She did. She knows she did. She heard a voice.
“Arthur?”
She questions one last time, but there is nothing, no one.
Then a peculiar sound. A crackle.
She turns her head to the hearth, sees a soft golden flame. It shines so beautifully. So gorgeously. So resplendent. Like it will never go out.
Like it will burn evermore.
Evermore?
And then it’s gone. The room is practically cold.
“Ar-thur?” She questions brokenly, her face a mess of wetness, her body shivers of confusion and pain.
She lies back down upon the bed, a tangle of tremors and loss. Her hand moves over her heart and stomach, between her thighs wretchedly, with the most utter loneliness.
She has to cry herself to sleep. To finally allow her eyes their needing of reprieve.
So deep into it she doesn’t feel it when it comes again.
Ethereal. Bodiless.
The touch upon her shoulder.
The soft gentle whisper.
Never
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
She consumes herself so deep into the work of keeping kingdom and lays with little sleep in the night that she doesn’t even feel it, that all her dying sense is combined with something else. It is only one day when sitting upon the throne for hours meeting with one person after another and it is time to finally stand, she stumbles and falls to the floor.
In a rushed mess of movement from all surrounding she is carried to her chambers, and receives Gaius’s care.
Exhaustion has fallen upon her body. She cannot keep this up for the reason of her own well being. And for another reason as well.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Days turn to weeks to months. She recovers from her fall and is allowed to return to duties of kingdom.
A knock comes at hers and Arthur’s chambers door during the morning hours.
Gwen has long moved past that time when she would hope and wonder for Arthur’s presence. She has dully accepted her husband’s demise and now goes to open the door, staring in wonder at who is there.
“Merlin?”
He is not entirely recognizable. Unshaven. He has barely combed hair that is already growing longer, and a face that is partially dirtied.
“Hello Gwen.”
She lets him in slowly, closing the door behind him and staring.
For long moments he seems like someone she no longer knows, but then the sheepishness kicks in, the humility strong. “I’m sorry.”
Emotions tear through her as she shakes her head. “What happened?”
He looks up, eyes a pool of misery and anguish and Gwen has to back to the wall some to get away from it. There is something wild in Merlin now. Something she no longer knows. Along with all that familiarity is an ocean of newness. “You have magic. Wasn’t there a way you could have gotten him there faster?” The words sound cruel even to her own ears, but she has to ask them.
Merlin pushes his hand against his forehead. His knuckles are cracked with lines of redness. “I swear I tried. I never wanted to leave his side in the first place, but Morgana took away my magic before Camlann. Then she locked me into a cave. I managed to get out and I got my magic back, I stopped Aithusa: the dragon, and I ceased the efforts of many from her army, but I couldn’t get to Arthur in time. Mordred had already-
“Oh.” Her hand pushes against her mouth as Merlin echoes that it was Mordred.
Before he can continue a piece of paper is thrust into his hand. “This…did you know about it?”
Merlin looks down upon the familiar Druid prayer and then raises his head, his eyes glancing at Gwen’s heavily, before he looks away. “The Druid prayer. Yeah I knew.”
She turns away from him, gazing out the window, before facing him again in a rush of fury. Her eyes ponder his without mercy. They look far and deep before she whispers it. “You knew it was Mordred. Didn’t you?”
Every day he goes through the horrible list of failures. He begs it all to be just a nightmare and everything to start over. “I knew.”
The tears are there again, never there in the day, but now with Merlin they return as she nearly screams out, her peace in shatters. “Then why didn’t you do anything Merlin? Why did you let Arthur bring him back here? Why did you let him live here, leave here, knowing that he---oh my God…” She pants and Merlin feels his tears hot and heavy.
“What was I supposed to do, Gwen? He wouldn’t have listened to me. He would have wanted to know how I knew and then I would have had to-
She looks up at him, seeing the fear and pain, but hers is sharp too. “What, tell him that you were a sorcerer, when you were one? Tell him the truth? You don’t think he deserved that after all the faith he put in you?”
“Gwen…” Merlin is brokenly crying now. “I loved him…Arthur was my friend. I love you. You’re my friend. I didn’t mean-I-I’m sorry-I-I failed…I tried but I failed.”
His breakdown stops her mind from ranting and pierces her heart.
Oh Merlin, she thinks.
He came to Camelot with magic outlawed and had to be so scared. But he stayed because he started serving Arthur, and she saw it, how he started liking Arthur. A liking that grew to the kind of love brothers share. He put up with Arthur’s bullish ways at time, countered it with his own smartness and they had that silly bickering going on between them, but also so much loyalty, so much care. All these years Merlin was a sorcerer and he never required any reward for it. He did it in the shadows. He did it with cost to himself.
He didn’t save Arthur. Her husband is gone. But in his crying eyes, in the dirt of his face, is the veracity that he tried.
She moves toward the broken man and lifts her shaking hand to his cheek. “Merlin.”
He loses it all once more, his head falling. “I’m sorry Gwen. I’m so sorry.”
She begins to hold him and feels his hands hold her even tighter, needing her presence. Maybe needing any presence. There is no telling if he has been with anyone since.
“I know. I know.”
Merlin holds her like that for a long while, before breaking away, touching his friend’s face. “Gaius said you got sick.”
“My emotions. Not eating enough.”
Merlin frowns. Her face is flushed, but to hear she’s needed bed rest troubles him greatly. “Gwen, you can’t let that happen. You have to be well. Arthur would want it. He loved you so much. A few times in the middle of the night, he didn’t know I heard. But he’d call out your name. He’d keep saying it and I’d calm him down, get him back to sleep, but you were in his heart.”
He presses his hand against his chest, against his tattered scarf. “You were there with him.”
“Oh…” Gwen cries a little more at that, but then thinks of the words. There with him.
Never leave.
“Was he in pain?” She asks, hoping not.
Merlin shakes his head, a quiet reassurance. “Not so much at the end. He went peacefully, Gwen.”
She nods, feeling his roughened fingers gently touch her face, and then…
“I should go.” Merlin starts parting from her.
She looks at him quizzically. “You’re not staying?”
“No. I had to come back to see you, to see Gaius one more time, but…no.”
“Merlin.”
“I’ve caused enough pain. I--I want to be alone.”
She reaches out, grasps his hand. “Not just pain. And not alone. I’ve been alone for a while and it hurts and…Merlin not alone.”
“Gwen.”
She smiles just a little. “It was many nights ago, a month or two maybe when I felt this presence. I felt like he was here. Arthur. And I felt him whispering what he told me weeks before he died, that he would never leave me. I don’t know if I was just imagining or what, but I could feel him. I could…”
Merlin stares at her, and then even harder as she clutches his hand tighter, brings it to her stomach. “Can you…feel him? Feel…”
Merlin’s face fills with shock, his hand actually beginning to glow.
Gwen’s eyes widen at the magical wonder in them, and then their direction ascends as the glow goes away quickly.
“Sorry.” He looks so remorseful.
She shakes her head. “No. It’s alright. It felt warm.”
Merlin smiles mildly. “Yeah…I don’t do it to hurt.”
She touches his hand that is shyly away from her body now. “I know. When Morgana turned me into a deer, you healed me, didn’t you?”
Merlin nods his head slowly. “Yeah. I had to. You would have di-
She stops him, pressing her hand against his arm. “Merlin?”
He gazes down upon her stomach, back to her shining eyes. “You’re with child.”
Gwen smiles. “True to his promise. ‘Never leave me.’”
“That’s also why you’ve been resting. Are you alright?”
Gwen nods. “I’m fine. Truly Merlin I didn’t have much desire to eat, to enjoy, but now…” She touches her stomach gently, “Knowing that there is this one inside me, this little one that is a beautiful facet of Arthur, I care more to be well. I have another to think of.” Her smile is soft, sprinkled with hope.
Merlin smiles too, faintly telling her, “I’m so happy then for you Gwen. You deserve to have joy in your life.”
He thinks about how there will be another piece of Arthur in this world, before that day he is supposedly destined to come back.
Many would think him a freak, an idiot for believing, for holding onto the hope that Arthur will actually return someday. But Merlin needs that deep in his soul. He has realized that with the absence of Arthur, he misses the teasing, the badgering, the hits upon his shoulder that are meant to be awkward little hugs. He misses him so much. Misses…
“Merlin. You deserve it too. Joy.”
Gwen’s hand is there, warm on his cheek. Merlin tries to push away from it, but she holds fast. “I know, no matter what I said before, that you did everything you could to keep him alive. To bring him back to Camelot. Merlin, I know. I know you loved him like all of Camelot has. Like I have. I know he was your greatest friend, that you served him the best anyone could.
Merlin, do not go.”
“Gwen-
She shushes him, her hand inches from his mouth before he stops and she lowers her wrist. “Gaius misses you. I do. The knights. No one puts you to blame. We all know you tried.”
He thinks about the isle, his voice shuddering. “I-I can’t Gwen. I can’t stay.”
“Why?” She asks so plaintively.
He looks away from her, to the window, where past the mountains it lies. “I have to keep going there. I have to keep-
“Where, Merlin?” Gwen asks.
She wouldn’t understand. No one probably would. He practically considers himself a madman. Crazy man of the wood.
“No.” He shakes his head. “No.”
Gwen’s brow wrinkles, but with a sigh she relents. “Alright. Then one night. Gaius is so happy to have you back. We can dine, all of us together. One more time. Merlin?”
His mind tells him to say no, but his heart…
“Okay. One more time.”
She kisses his cheek and leads him out of the chambers that for so many years, he served his friend in, that for a few precious years, she shared with her eternal love.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
That night they eat together, the closest of them, Leon, Percival, Merlin, Gwen and Gaius. Sad moments are inevitable, memories of all they have lost, but within too are intermingled happier ones and jokes and cute little foresights into what the new little Pendragon may be like.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
Gwen recalls it all two days later, after a trip she took with Merlin, that he hadn’t totally been prepared for. Rubbing her stomach gently now in her nightdress, her hair braided and ready for sleep, she recalls…
“Merlin.”
He stares at her as she walks out of the stables with her horse. “Gwen?”
“I’m going with you. Leon has charge of the kingdom for the days and nights needed.”
“But-
Gwen fixes her gloves into place, like she did when she rode with Arthur to Camlann. “Gaius has said it’s alright too. The air will do me good after getting the rest I needed. I’ve been eating well enough. Now I just need one thing.”
“What?” Merlin asks.
She reaches out, touches his hand. “To be with Arthur. One last time.”
“But-
“Merlin…take me there. Please. Take me to the Lake of Avalon.”
“Gwen-
She brings Merlin’s hand down with hers to her stomach, whispering. “I want him to feel his child. I want our child…to feel his…or her… father. Merlin…please take me.”
He protests and all the while she holds steadfast, like she always has. Calmly she watches his argument deflate. He gives a faint nod, telling her, as he squeezes her hand softly, “Okay.”
…
The ride takes a few days, but it is peaceful enough. At one time they have a bandit encounter. Gwen marvels as for the first time she sees the strength of Merlin’s magic while he is Merlin, not dressed as an old man. There is no death. Merlin does not seek to kill the bandits, just frighten them away, but there is steeliness in his eyes as he does so.
“You have great power, don’t you Merlin?”
He nods a little shyly.
“Arthur saw it?”
Merlin gives a shrug. “He saw some. Enough to get it.”
“And the name, Emrys?”
“The Druids call me that. I’ve been told I have more than one name, that I am of the elements, but that’s not important Gwen to you now. What matters is that you get to Avalon and so I will keep my promise to take you there.”
She smiles faintly as once more Merlin is still quite cryptic.
…
The day that they reach Avalon is a lovely one, with the sun shining gently through the sky, causing glimmers of color that the wan clouds have little power over. Merlin stands back as Gwen, clad in her riding outfit, makes her way to the water, holding wildflowers in her hands, and something else. She deposits the wildflowers into the lake before speaking softly.
“Arthur…” There are probably so many inspiring things to say, but one comes to heart continuously. “I miss you. I miss the love you gave to me, that you gave to your kingdom and to your men. I miss your bravery, your good heart, and the chivalry you showed me and so many others.
Confession, I wanted to beg you not to go to Camlann. I followed you because I couldn’t endure sitting…waiting. You gave yourself fully always. I had to do the same. And I will never regret it, sharing that one last beautiful time with you. Being in the arms of love, yours.”
She sighs somberly, tears finding her eyes. “I know that if I had tried to stop you from serving your purpose, from fighting for Camelot, I would have taken a most vital part of you. Oh Arthur, as much as I coveted keeping you safe, I knew from the moment I fell in love with you, that would never be easy. You were born to be king, to be the greatest king Camelot has ever known. I believe that. Even if it was cut short…I believe it.”
She smiles fondly with a touch of amusement, which makes the tears even more prevalent actually. “You weren’t all perfect, and I would have you no other way. You had a penchant for snoring like a pig and a pout that could compete with a baby’s. Until now perhaps. I may have some competition for you soon.”
She caresses her stomach fondly, the fingers of her other hand feeling the gentle waters of the lake. “You see my husband you gave me the most precious gift you ever could. But you know that, you must Arthur. Our passion and love for each other was never a feeble thing. We enjoyed our time together, embraced it, shielded it. And so that beautiful scabbard of your love has created within me something alive and so dear I could never imagine before.”
She gazes upon the lake, the gentle waters, wishing her eyes could literally touch its depths, wishing she could pull him out and begin life anew together. Whether he be farmer. Whether he be king. It would not matter. Her love for kingdom has always been as full of veracity as his, but never could anything eclipse her love for him, the naked beautiful man he always was inside, that piece that he cared to share only with a few.
The private essence that only she and she alone knew. Her hand presses to her heart, presses deep and solid as she wishes for one more reprieve. One clause to the other world. For she can’t imagine she will ever love anyone the same. She can’t imagine that the hollowness that is in her heart, will ever entirely be fulfilled again.
However, she can’t give in. Can’t give up. Can’t thrust away the beautiful years they had together. Can’t tarnish them.
Her hand caresses her stomach, soon enough to be round, to be blushing with fulfillment. To think that their passions, their intimate touches, his entering the private walls of her womanhood have led to this.
*Life.
It’s why as much as there is a part of her that wants to run away from this new half existence, she does not allow it to dictate her way. She knew years ago her husband would likely go early in life. Oh she had the hope they would spend olden days together, but she has always been wise enough to understand the kind of man he was, that the most honorable way of dying for him would be in the company of his men, during a fight for the most vital justices.
“As much as I miss you my husband..” She clutches her breast, “And I miss you with all my heart Arthur, every bit…I am so happy too. For I have a facet of your life inside me now. I have a wee one to come who I will protect and shield…as fervently as I shielded you. As you shielded me.
My heart Arthur…” She presses her hand to it fervently. “My heart…evermore. Will never leave you.
Never.”
She brings it out from the cloth it’s wrapped in, the belted tie from possibly his favorite dress. The blue one. She whispers, “You gave me the most thrilling reactions when I wore the dress that went with this belt. And now I won’t need it anymore. So here…for you…”
She drops the gold and blue belt into the water. Not every memory will be locked away. She has not put serious thought to putting away his clothes or endeavored to get rid of them. Also, she will keep the nightdress because it was his gift to her and she will keep her other dresses too. Just this one with all its fervent memories of his hands slipping over her breast, his fingers knotting into the belt and molding to her hips, this one she cannot bring herself to hold onto. This one she wants him to have a piece of too. So let it lie in the lake with him.
“For you my husband…” Her voice quietly whispers.
“For you…My Love.”
…
Moments later Merlin comes to join her. He sits at her side, wrapping his arm around her shoulder. She rests her head on his. “Thank you.”
Merlin nods, noticing her path of tears, his own face a little wet. “I think there’s something else I should tell you.”
Gwen starts to lift her head, but Merlin’s hold grows tighter. He doesn’t want her to look at him yet. She keenly stays still.
“Years ago, when the black knight came to Camelot, do you remember that Gwen?”
“Yes. Arthur was to fight him.”
“I came to you and asked if I could have one of the swords your dad forged.”
Gwen’s brow tightens. “I remember that.”
“It was forged further actually. In a dragon’s breath. It was the one Arthur used to fight in Camlann.”
Now Merlin finally allows it and so Gwen lifts her head. “The one you asked me for? But Arthur said-
Merlin smiles fractionally. “I lied to him then. I had to. Arthur needed to believe in himself and I couldn’t tell him how the sword was created.”
“If you forged it in a dragon’s breath too, why would it matter who it came from? Why not just-
Merlin shakes his head, that smile still there. “No. It wouldn’t have been the same. Tom forged everything with dedication. He had such talent and passion for what he did. Arthur felt the difference in the hold almost right away. And you gave it to me. You actually gave it for him. So it wasn’t just forged in passion, in fire…but also in love. And it saved Arthur so many times Gwen.”
She feels new tears and hugs Merlin, who holds her too, letting out a ragged sigh.
“Come back.” She presses her hand to his cheek. “Merlin.”
“Sure. I’ll bring you back to Camelot. I said I would. I would never let you go alone.”
She shakes her head, takes his hand and presses it against her shoulder. “No…stay. Merlin, stay.”
But he negates her request, softly, gently. “I’m sorry Gwen. I cannot.”
She lowers his hand with hers. “What if…what if he…or she… ever needs you?”
Merlin stares, shaking some.
“You were always there for Arthur. Will you be there for his child?”
“Gwen-
“Please.” She doesn’t let his hand go.
“I failed him.” Merlin mutters miserably.
“No.” Gwen objects. “Merlin?”
He turns away. “You won’t need me. Albion has peace now.”
“Will it hold?” She asks.
Merlin smiles reassuringly. “I know you’ll keep it.”
“Merlin.”
He gives another sigh, finally turning back to her and nodding his head.
“Peace. However…if anything breaks it and you want me there...”
The memory drifts away from her heart. Merlin of course left it there. Not giving any certainty of anything.
On the way home she did not pressure him for further answer. When he hugged her goodbye, she peacefully accepted his departure. And was glad that at least their short time together could bring back some glimmers of his fun and youthfulness.
She looks to the table now, to where all the flowers have dried away, but for that stubborn little blossoming bud. Nothing will stop it she is sure of. She smiles fondly at the growing gillyflower and caresses her stomach with care, feeling where soon there will be the swelling of life.
“I love you little one…and I will always shield you. Always tell you about the great father you had.”
Her smile is one of melancholy, but also hope.
Never ending hope.
For the future.
For the promise of life.
Evermore.
Her husband’s promise.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~
This is now where Chambers ends. <3
Thank you everyone for reading/responding/creating incredible art/being part of all this with me. I appreciate it so much. I have loved writing Chambers, and this last one brought me to tears quite a few times.
If you’re wondering about Arthur’s chambers dreams, I truly believe in heart Guinevere was always with Arthur. I think in episode 5.13 when he gave Gaius the seal that was with his heart fully of his wife and kingdom, for he expressed it enough. He loved both. And yet, Camelot was nothing without love in his life. I also think when Arthur was taking his last breaths and asking to be held, it was a powerful scene. I think Arthur, realizing how much Merlin had done for him, had braved for him, truly loved him as a friend that moment. But it went beyond, it was such an intimate side of Arthur. He did it so emotionally that I firmly believe it was not just him and Merlin on those banks of grass. Within his heart, when he looked up glassily into the skies…Arthur was with his wife.
Maybe even in chambers.
Thanks dear readers. Until next story.
Arwen evermore.