Nonfatal Dear - This Line We Walk 1/5
Title: This Line We Walk
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 15,991 words
Characters/Pairings: Arthur, Gaius, Gwen, girl!Merlin, and a host of others, including OCs | Arthur/girl!Merlin, minor Gwen/Lancelot
Summary: Everything has a cost, and Camelot's future is no exception. Merlin has to do whatever it takes to secure Camelot's succession, while also avoiding the mistakes of the past.
Spoilers/Warnings: A few character spoilers for early Series 4 | explicit sexual content
Notes: From Prompt Located Here
***
Winter’s hold on Camelot was beginning to loosen. The thick blanket of snow was melting under the rays of a warmer sun and increasing temperatures, leaving only spots of white in the midst of wet green fields. The winter season had been long, but then, it always seemed so by the end. Fortunately, the harvest last fall had been a good one, and the stores throughout the kingdom had been well-stocked to provide a helping hand to the people when their own private supplies began to run low.
The sun was setting, brushing along the tops of the bare trees of the forest beyond the town, and the chill in the air was growing increasingly bitter. Merlin shivered and burrowed a little deeper into the warmth of her cloak. The wine-colored, fur-lined garment had been a gift from Gwen during the mid-winter celebrations, and had come with a set of matching gloves and scarf, which Arthur had given her. She smiled faintly, recalling the festivities that had occurred nearly three months ago. Since Gwen and Arthur had married, Camelot's celebrations had taken on a joyful and genuine tone that hadn’t been known in the kingdom for decades. Gaius had even admitted that Camelot had not seen such carefree times since the days when Queen Ygraine had presided over the king’s table.
“Ah, Merlin, good.”
Merlin turned from the view from the battlements. Arthur strode toward her purposely, his long-coat billowing slightly in the breeze. As he approached, Merlin resolutely ignored the faint increase in her heartbeat. It was something she had long ago accustomed herself to.
“Well, Arthur,” she said by way of greeting, “this is all very mysterious. Why do we need to meet up here, where I’m sure to catch my death?”
He rolled his eyes. “Stop complaining, Merlin. This was too important to risk being overheard.”
She raised an eyebrow. Few people came near the chambers she had been granted upon her appointment as the King’s Sorceress. Many of the servants were a bit wary of her, though mainly it was the female servants who used to make her life difficult during her time as Arthur’s personal maidservant. If he was concerned about being overheard by the servants, it had to be important.
Leaning against the parapet next to her, Arthur gazed out over the town while Merlin observed him. He had been king for going on six years now, and though he had stumbled several times along the way, he had become the great man and king she had hardly dared hope for when Uther had died. There had been some horrible moments, such as when he had first learned of her magic, but thankfully, the two of them had worked through it and had regained their friendship. It was more than Merlin had had the right to expect, and she was immensely grateful for it everyday.
Arthur sighed, bringing Merlin back to the moment at hand. “It’s an awkward subject,” he admitted. “I don’t know where to begin, really.”
Merlin cocked her head to one side, giving him a long, searching look. “How about at the beginning?” she suggested.
He glanced at her sharply, seemingly expecting some kind of barb, but she just waited patiently. He looked away again and after taking a deep breath, he spoke. “It’s Guinevere. We… it’s been five years… and there’s still no…”
Merlin blinked. Well, she thought, that was as clear as mud. “All right,” she said slowly, “try again, only with a little less stuttering.”
Arthur cast an irritated look in her direction, but did as she requested. “Gwen and I have been married for five years, Merlin, and there’s still no child. I’m concerned.”
“Ah.” It was a rather pithy response. “Have you spoken to the physician, or to any midwives?”
Arthur shook his head. “No, not yet.” He gave her a pointed look. “I was hoping you would discuss it with Gwen? You’re both girls.”
Merlin bit back the impulse to ask him if it had taken him all of a decade to notice. Instead, she nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”
An expression of relief passed over the king’s features. “Thank you, Merlin,” he said. He glanced around, as though making doubly certain that they would not be overheard by any lurkers or passersby, and then continued in a lower tone, “There are already whispers. Some are beginning to say that it was a mistake for me to marry her, and that she is failing at her primary duty to the kingdom.”
Merlin’s mood darkened instantly. Like any of Arthur’s inner circle, she was well-aware of the reasons behind his and Gwen’s marriage - an act of friendship and support on Gwen’s part, and an act of trust on Arthur’s. He wanted to give his people a good queen, someone who would look after them and remind him of their best interests. Arthur had once confided in Merlin that he believed that the lack of queen in the last decades of his father’s reign had created a gulf between the king and the people, and that the kingdom had suffered for it. With Gwen as their constant advocate, Arthur knew he would always be able to keep their concerns in mind when he made decisions that would shape the kingdom.
Those were the reasons Arthur had stated out loud, but there were others, of course. Merlin also knew that in making Gwen his queen, Arthur escaped the trap of singling out one noble family or one foreign kingdom over the others. A king was expected to favor his wife’s family, and her loyalties would be divided between her husband and the family she was born to. By making Gwen his queen, and by keeping Elyan as one of Camelot's knights, Arthur spared her the problem of those divided loyalties. The siblings’ rise in society rested solely with him, and not with any noble background of their own. Their loyalties would lie with him, not that they didn’t already. It also kept Camelot's nobles and the foreign kingdoms that Arthur negotiated with all on equal footing.
If there were already rumors against Gwen, Merlin knew that it couldn’t be long before those words grew louder. It was only a matter of time before some bold nobleman had the temerity to suggest that Arthur put her aside in favor of another woman, one who would bear him children, one who could be influenced by her family.
Truly, producing an heir was critical for Arthur on so many levels.
Taking a deep breath, Merlin reached out and pressed her hand against Arthur’s. “I’ll do my best,” she promised.
***
Merlin knew the urgency of the situation, and began her investigation the very next morning. The first thing she had to do was to speak with Gwen. She needed details, and although she didn’t want to admit it, Arthur was right. The fact that both she and Gwen were women made the subject a little easier to discuss.
Only a little, though.
Merlin was able to gain a private audience with the queen that morning. She didn’t even want to think about any appointments Gwen had to reschedule, nor did she want to think of how quickly the handmaids had fled the room at Gwen’s command, so they could speak alone.
Merlin sighed as the door shut behind them. “Do you think they will ever cease to be afraid of me, Gwen?” she asked, sounding a bit despondent.
Gwen smiled at her. “Many of them are new to Camelot,” she assured her. “They’ll get used to you.”
Merlin rolled her eyes. “You’d think their fathers would have warned them before sending them to you,” she muttered, but then smiled in return.
Their mutual merriment lasted but a moment before their expressions became serious. “Arthur said you would come to speak with me,” the queen stated.
Merlin didn’t try to dissemble. “Yes,” she agreed. “He’s worried.”
Gwen nodded, her dark eyes grave. “So am I,” she admitted. She gave Merlin an earnest look. “I haven’t been remiss, Merlin. Arthur and I…” she trailed off, blushing a bit, “we’ve… lain together frequently. We are trying.”
Merlin reached out and took her hands, squeezing them reassuringly. “I don’t doubt you,” she promised. “You and Arthur aren’t the type to shy away from what you’ve set your minds to.” At Gwen’s relieved expression, Merlin continued. “Have there been any sign of pregnancy?” she asked. “Any symptoms at all?”
Gwen didn’t answer immediately, cocking her head as she thought back. “Sometimes, I think there might have been,” she finally answered. “My courses have always been regular, but occasionally in the last few years, I would miss a month. Usually, I’d attribute it to stress, but on at least two occasions, I have gone nearly three months without my courses.” She paused, a cloud passing over her face. “I had hoped at those times that I might be with child, but that hope was dashed when my courses came, and came heavily.”
Ah. Merlin had never fully comprehended all of the medical knowledge that Gaius had tried to pound into her head over the years, but she had her own sources of learning. Before she had come to Camelot, she had aided her mother and the other women of Ealdor when there was a babe coming. She had learned of the details of pregnancy and childbirth mainly by listening to the older women talk. What Gwen described sounded very similar to the stories of miscarriages Merlin had listened to.
It took several months after conception for a woman to know for certain that she was with child. Only when the child quickened did she know for sure, though she would suspect long before that. Still, the old crones would talk of how a woman might begin to show signs of pregnancy, only to have them all collapse and her normal bodily function resume with a vengeance. Miscarriages, they’d said with knowing tones. The babies that weren’t strong enough to take root in their mother’s womb.
Gwen’s symptoms were comparable to those stories, Merlin believed. It showed that, at the very least, that Gwen and Arthur both were fertile, even if that fertility hadn’t been successful as of yet.
Taking a deep breath, Merlin looked closely at the queen. “Have you spoken to the physician?” she asked.
Gwen shook her head, an uncomfortable look crossing her face. Merlin understood. When Gaius’ health had forced him to give up his duties, the man’s replacement, Bede, had been met with considerable caution and wariness. The castle’s inhabitants had been faced with strangers who meant naught but harm far too much for the man to be trusted without hesitation. Even now, after three years, some were still more inclined to hear Gaius’ advice than Bede’s.
“Perhaps,” Merlin continued, “we could consult a midwife?” She smiled wryly. “They say that matters of childbirth are women’s business, not men’s. Perhaps it would do well to ask someone who specializes in these things.”
Gwen pondered the suggestion for several moments. “I like the idea,” she said, but still looked particularly hesitant, “but if one is brought into the citadel, it will send everyone talking.”
Merlin winced. Gossip was a fact of life in any court. Gwen was right - bringing a midwife in would immediately set the servants talking and reporting it to their masters, much as Merlin herself had done when she had been Arthur’s maidservant. If the midwife appeared in the morning, then come midday, everyone from the council to the stable-boys would be speculating on whether or not the queen was with child.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she finally replied. “If we’re discrete enough, we might be able to keep it from getting around.”
Relief spread over Gwen’s sweet features again, the second time since Merlin had entered the room. She had so little privacy as Camelot's Queen. If there was a chance Merlin could preserve Gwen’s small bits of privacy, she would certainly do her best.
***
Merlin’s ability to slip about unnoticed had taken a great blow when she had gone from being the king’s maidservant to his royal sorceress. Few people took notice of a servant, even a royal one, but the King’s Sorceress was highly noticeable. Fortunately, Merlin still kept some of her plainer clothing in the depths of the wardrobe of her chambers, as well as the cloak Gaius had given her at the start of her first winter in Camelot. They served very well to disguise her when she had need of them, and magic did the rest.
She waited until the onset of dusk, when the majority of the servants who did not reside in the citadel were leaving to return to their homes in the Lower Town. By insinuating herself into the back of the crowd, she was able to pass by the guards without so much as earning an extra glance.
She walked through the streets of the town, sticking to the well-lit areas as best she could. The streets were well-patrolled, but it never hurt to be cautious. In time, Merlin finally came upon her destination. It was a house like any other, but its occupant was someone who she thought could help with the current situation.
Stepping up to the door, Merlin raised her hand and knocked. A silent pause, and then she heard the sound of shuffling feet coming closer. “Who is it?” a gravely, wizened voice called from inside.
“Blythe,” she replied, “it’s Merlin.”
Blythe was one of the oldest and most successful midwives in Camelot. Merlin wasn’t certain how old she was, but she was close to Gaius’ age at best. She often bragged that she had been around before the Pendragon family had conquered the kingdom, and could recall how times back then had made adults out of children. She was very fond of grumbling that people had it far too easy these days and were getting ‘soft’.
A scraping sound caught Merlin’s attention, and after a moment, the door opened a crack and two wizened brown eyes peered out at her. “What are you doing out here so late, child?” Blythe asked her.
“I needed to speak with you about something,” Merlin responded. She glanced around, wary for eavesdroppers. “It’s private, and I’d rather not talk about it on your doorstep.”
A moment of nothing, and then Blythe opened the door further. As Merlin stepped inside, the old woman turned and moved further into her house. It was rather of a similar size to the house Gwen had once lived in before she and Arthur married. There was a large table in the center of the room, near the large stove that had a crackling fire going in it. Blythe moved toward the table, holding her old shawl close to her body.
“Now,” she said as she sat down on one of the benches, “what was so important that couldn’t wait until a civilized hour? If Gaius is wanting to debate about the advantages of -”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Merlin said, cutting her off while she sat down across from her.
“Ah, well then, what can an old woman do for the mighty King’s Sorceress?”
Merlin wrinkled her nose. It was her official title within the court, and probably the only thing more embarrassing than being referred to by that title was being called ‘Lady Merlin’. She’d never claimed to be a lady, and didn’t think of herself as one even now anymore than Gwen did, despite being the Queen of Camelot.
“I have someone up in the citadel,” she told Blythe. “A lady who is having trouble conceiving, but is hesitant to ask the court physician for help.”
The midwife snorted contemptuously. “What does a man know of matters of childbirth? That’s the province of women, always had been.” Blythe sighed and wrapped her gnarled fingers around the cup in front of her. “Who is it?”
Merlin hesitated, glancing around. “We are alone, right?”
“Of course! My last apprentice finished her training with me and went back to her village.”
Satisfied with Blythe’s word, Merlin leaned forward and said in a low tone, “It’s the Queen.”
Thankfully, Blythe didn’t react loudly. Her eyes widened a little bit, but other than that, she remained calm. “Young Guinevere? Oh dear…”
Merlin nodded. “Yes, and I don’t have to tell you what the consequences might be if it gets out that she’s barren. The king would never forsake her willingly, but the nobles wouldn’t leave him much choice. He needs an heir.” She didn’t have to point out the uncertainty and instability that had plagued Uther’s reign before Arthur’s birth.
The old woman nodded, her expression thoughtful. “And what do you and Her Majesty wish of me?”
“Could you examine her? You know far about these matters than I do, and you’re discrete. Gwen needs all the privacy she can get on this until we decide upon a plan of action.”
Blythe stared at her, and then said, “Of course I will, but if you and the Queen want privacy, how do you propose we go about things? I can’t tell you anything unless I actually get a look at her.”
Merlin thought about that. Gwen was well-guarded and surrounded by people these days. It would be next to impossible to get her out of the citadel without someone noticing her absence. “Perhaps…” she trailed off for a moment, and then brightened as an idea came to her. “Maybe you could come up to the citadel tomorrow, saying you’re going to visit me? Make up something that I need to be instructed in if you’re questioned. Gwen is known to visit my chambers every now and then, and her ladies are terrified of me and won’t come near the place.”
Blythe snorted. “Why are they terrified of you?” she asked. “Unless they’re traitors to the king, you won’t harm a hair on their heads.” At Merlin’s indifferent shrug, the midwife continued, “It sounds like as good a plan as we’ll ever come up with. I’ll be up in the citadel by the eleventh morning bell. You and Guinevere should be ready.”
***
It worked, surprisingly. Just as Merlin predicted, Gwen was able to get away from her entourage to visit Merlin in her chambers. Blythe was already there, under the pretense of showing Merlin ‘the proper way of questioning a lady on delicate matters, since she has no sense of delicacy herself’.
The examination happened on Merlin’s bed, with Merlin mainly sitting beside Gwen and holding her hand while Blythe went about her work. Gwen clutched at her with a vice-like grip that showed her anxiety.
When Blythe finished, she draped the skirt of Gwen’s dress back down over her legs and moved away from the foot of the bed. Gwen and Merlin hurriedly got up and followed the woman over to the table, where she was seating herself.
“Well, first I will say that you’re a healthy woman, Your Majesty,” Blythe began.
Gwen nodded, her expression full of apprehension.
The midwife continued. “There are mysteries about the body that we may never understand, and that includes why women who are perfectly healthy cannot carry a babe in their belly.”
Merlin flinched and Gwen’s breath hitched. “You mean I…” She trailed off, tears filling her eyes.
Blythe’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, dear. If I could tell you why, if I could tell all of these women why, I’d be the richest woman in the kingdom.”
Gwen nodded, obviously struggling to hold back her sorrow. Blythe reached out and squeezed her hand for a moment, and then got to her feet. Nodding sympathetically in Merlin’s direction, she shuffled toward the door and out of the room.
The moment the door shut, Gwen crumpled in her chair. Her breath came in sobbing heaves, and she buried her face in her hands. Merlin leapt to her feet and hurried around to her, quickly wrapping her arms around the other woman. Gwen leaned against her, trembling.
Merlin closed her eyes. She wished she knew what to say to comfort her friend, to allay her fears, but words had never been her strong suit. And truly, what could she say? Gwen was the Queen of Camelot, and she had just been informed that the most important thing the kingdom required of her was the one thing she couldn’t give them.
No, there were no consoling words Merlin could offer Gwen. All she could do was hope to find a solution - and pray that the price would not be too high.
***
Arthur’s face was grey and stony when Merlin finished explaining what Blythe had told her and Gwen that evening. He sat leaning back in the large chair in his chambers, his eyes blank and unseeing. It reminded her uncomfortably of how he had appeared when Uther had died.
Just like with Gwen earlier that day, Merlin was bereft of words to comfort him. In earlier days, before his marriage, she would have taken his hand in hers and squeezed it, a mute gesture. However, for all that Merlin knew the circumstances and truths behind Gwen and Arthur’s marriage, she’d still felt as though a wall, no matter how transparent, had gone up between her and Arthur. There were things she’d used to do that didn’t feel appropriate any more.
“Merlin.”
Arthur was looking at her now. He still had that same devastated look about him, and he was staring at her with a desperate plea in his eyes. “Is there nothing you can do?” he asked her. “The sorcerers who pass through her are always calling you the greatest sorceress in all of Albion. Isn’t there some kind of magic that can help us?”
Something hard and dark settled in Merlin’s stomach. What Arthur was asking… it had been asked before, and they both knew what had resulted from it - over twenty years of blood and madness engulfing the kingdom. “Arthur…”
Apparently Arthur saw her hesitation. “Merlin, I need an heir of my body. Boy or girl, I don’t care. Even if leaving a daughter as my heir means more complications for me, it would still be better than no heir at all.”
At least he’s learned from his father’s mistakes, since Uther couldn’t be bothered to be satisfied with his daughter, a small, sly voice uttered in the back of her head. Ignoring it, Merlin said, “Arthur, I understand that, I do. But I only know of one spell that can give a barren woman a child, and I will not use it, no matter what is at stake.” On this, she was resolved. Merlin refused to sacrifice any life in exchange for another. While she still believed that Uther hadn’t thought that Ygraine’s life would be traded for Arthur’s, Merlin wasn’t going to set up a similar trade, especially when she had no idea whose life would be given up for the hypothetical child. No security was worth ending someone’s life.
Arthur held her gaze, and despite her determination, Merlin felt her heart tremble. He would beg her, she knew. She could see it in his eyes. Gods, was this what Nimueh had been faced with, all those years ago? Had Uther come to her and begged? They had been friends then, and although Gaius rarely spoke of it, Merlin had a feeling that it had been a close friendship, perhaps something like what she and Arthur shared now. Had Uther begged Nimueh, and had she crumbled in the face of it?
Biting her lip, Merlin bowed her head. “I will look for another way,” she allowed. It was as far as she was willing to go. Otherwise, Arthur would have to find another way to keep Camelot secure after his time as king was done.
She wouldn’t make the same choice that Nimueh had.
***
When Gaius’ health forced him to retire as the court physician, he had initially intended to leave the court as well, as most servants often did. He had even talked of traveling to see Merlin’s mother in Ealdor, perhaps staying with her for a time. Arthur, however, had no intention of throwing Gaius out.
“You’ve served my family for longer than I have been alive,” Arthur had told the old man. “I’m not ungrateful, Gaius. And I will always have need of your advice.”
Merlin’s pride and gratitude toward Arthur had nearly burst that day. Though Gaius was no longer the court’s physician, he still remained a presence and voice on Arthur’s advisory council. As a result of retaining such a position, Gaius was permitted a comfortable set of chambers, and the right of permanent residence within the citadel.
Merlin joined Gaius for breakfast several times a week, and she joined him the morning after she spoke to Arthur. She even traveled to the kitchens and coaxed a tray of food out of one of the cooks
Part 2
.
Rating: NC-17
Word Count: 15,991 words
Characters/Pairings: Arthur, Gaius, Gwen, girl!Merlin, and a host of others, including OCs | Arthur/girl!Merlin, minor Gwen/Lancelot
Summary: Everything has a cost, and Camelot's future is no exception. Merlin has to do whatever it takes to secure Camelot's succession, while also avoiding the mistakes of the past.
Spoilers/Warnings: A few character spoilers for early Series 4 | explicit sexual content
Notes: From Prompt Located Here
***
Winter’s hold on Camelot was beginning to loosen. The thick blanket of snow was melting under the rays of a warmer sun and increasing temperatures, leaving only spots of white in the midst of wet green fields. The winter season had been long, but then, it always seemed so by the end. Fortunately, the harvest last fall had been a good one, and the stores throughout the kingdom had been well-stocked to provide a helping hand to the people when their own private supplies began to run low.
The sun was setting, brushing along the tops of the bare trees of the forest beyond the town, and the chill in the air was growing increasingly bitter. Merlin shivered and burrowed a little deeper into the warmth of her cloak. The wine-colored, fur-lined garment had been a gift from Gwen during the mid-winter celebrations, and had come with a set of matching gloves and scarf, which Arthur had given her. She smiled faintly, recalling the festivities that had occurred nearly three months ago. Since Gwen and Arthur had married, Camelot's celebrations had taken on a joyful and genuine tone that hadn’t been known in the kingdom for decades. Gaius had even admitted that Camelot had not seen such carefree times since the days when Queen Ygraine had presided over the king’s table.
“Ah, Merlin, good.”
Merlin turned from the view from the battlements. Arthur strode toward her purposely, his long-coat billowing slightly in the breeze. As he approached, Merlin resolutely ignored the faint increase in her heartbeat. It was something she had long ago accustomed herself to.
“Well, Arthur,” she said by way of greeting, “this is all very mysterious. Why do we need to meet up here, where I’m sure to catch my death?”
He rolled his eyes. “Stop complaining, Merlin. This was too important to risk being overheard.”
She raised an eyebrow. Few people came near the chambers she had been granted upon her appointment as the King’s Sorceress. Many of the servants were a bit wary of her, though mainly it was the female servants who used to make her life difficult during her time as Arthur’s personal maidservant. If he was concerned about being overheard by the servants, it had to be important.
Leaning against the parapet next to her, Arthur gazed out over the town while Merlin observed him. He had been king for going on six years now, and though he had stumbled several times along the way, he had become the great man and king she had hardly dared hope for when Uther had died. There had been some horrible moments, such as when he had first learned of her magic, but thankfully, the two of them had worked through it and had regained their friendship. It was more than Merlin had had the right to expect, and she was immensely grateful for it everyday.
Arthur sighed, bringing Merlin back to the moment at hand. “It’s an awkward subject,” he admitted. “I don’t know where to begin, really.”
Merlin cocked her head to one side, giving him a long, searching look. “How about at the beginning?” she suggested.
He glanced at her sharply, seemingly expecting some kind of barb, but she just waited patiently. He looked away again and after taking a deep breath, he spoke. “It’s Guinevere. We… it’s been five years… and there’s still no…”
Merlin blinked. Well, she thought, that was as clear as mud. “All right,” she said slowly, “try again, only with a little less stuttering.”
Arthur cast an irritated look in her direction, but did as she requested. “Gwen and I have been married for five years, Merlin, and there’s still no child. I’m concerned.”
“Ah.” It was a rather pithy response. “Have you spoken to the physician, or to any midwives?”
Arthur shook his head. “No, not yet.” He gave her a pointed look. “I was hoping you would discuss it with Gwen? You’re both girls.”
Merlin bit back the impulse to ask him if it had taken him all of a decade to notice. Instead, she nodded. “I’ll do what I can.”
An expression of relief passed over the king’s features. “Thank you, Merlin,” he said. He glanced around, as though making doubly certain that they would not be overheard by any lurkers or passersby, and then continued in a lower tone, “There are already whispers. Some are beginning to say that it was a mistake for me to marry her, and that she is failing at her primary duty to the kingdom.”
Merlin’s mood darkened instantly. Like any of Arthur’s inner circle, she was well-aware of the reasons behind his and Gwen’s marriage - an act of friendship and support on Gwen’s part, and an act of trust on Arthur’s. He wanted to give his people a good queen, someone who would look after them and remind him of their best interests. Arthur had once confided in Merlin that he believed that the lack of queen in the last decades of his father’s reign had created a gulf between the king and the people, and that the kingdom had suffered for it. With Gwen as their constant advocate, Arthur knew he would always be able to keep their concerns in mind when he made decisions that would shape the kingdom.
Those were the reasons Arthur had stated out loud, but there were others, of course. Merlin also knew that in making Gwen his queen, Arthur escaped the trap of singling out one noble family or one foreign kingdom over the others. A king was expected to favor his wife’s family, and her loyalties would be divided between her husband and the family she was born to. By making Gwen his queen, and by keeping Elyan as one of Camelot's knights, Arthur spared her the problem of those divided loyalties. The siblings’ rise in society rested solely with him, and not with any noble background of their own. Their loyalties would lie with him, not that they didn’t already. It also kept Camelot's nobles and the foreign kingdoms that Arthur negotiated with all on equal footing.
If there were already rumors against Gwen, Merlin knew that it couldn’t be long before those words grew louder. It was only a matter of time before some bold nobleman had the temerity to suggest that Arthur put her aside in favor of another woman, one who would bear him children, one who could be influenced by her family.
Truly, producing an heir was critical for Arthur on so many levels.
Taking a deep breath, Merlin reached out and pressed her hand against Arthur’s. “I’ll do my best,” she promised.
***
Merlin knew the urgency of the situation, and began her investigation the very next morning. The first thing she had to do was to speak with Gwen. She needed details, and although she didn’t want to admit it, Arthur was right. The fact that both she and Gwen were women made the subject a little easier to discuss.
Only a little, though.
Merlin was able to gain a private audience with the queen that morning. She didn’t even want to think about any appointments Gwen had to reschedule, nor did she want to think of how quickly the handmaids had fled the room at Gwen’s command, so they could speak alone.
Merlin sighed as the door shut behind them. “Do you think they will ever cease to be afraid of me, Gwen?” she asked, sounding a bit despondent.
Gwen smiled at her. “Many of them are new to Camelot,” she assured her. “They’ll get used to you.”
Merlin rolled her eyes. “You’d think their fathers would have warned them before sending them to you,” she muttered, but then smiled in return.
Their mutual merriment lasted but a moment before their expressions became serious. “Arthur said you would come to speak with me,” the queen stated.
Merlin didn’t try to dissemble. “Yes,” she agreed. “He’s worried.”
Gwen nodded, her dark eyes grave. “So am I,” she admitted. She gave Merlin an earnest look. “I haven’t been remiss, Merlin. Arthur and I…” she trailed off, blushing a bit, “we’ve… lain together frequently. We are trying.”
Merlin reached out and took her hands, squeezing them reassuringly. “I don’t doubt you,” she promised. “You and Arthur aren’t the type to shy away from what you’ve set your minds to.” At Gwen’s relieved expression, Merlin continued. “Have there been any sign of pregnancy?” she asked. “Any symptoms at all?”
Gwen didn’t answer immediately, cocking her head as she thought back. “Sometimes, I think there might have been,” she finally answered. “My courses have always been regular, but occasionally in the last few years, I would miss a month. Usually, I’d attribute it to stress, but on at least two occasions, I have gone nearly three months without my courses.” She paused, a cloud passing over her face. “I had hoped at those times that I might be with child, but that hope was dashed when my courses came, and came heavily.”
Ah. Merlin had never fully comprehended all of the medical knowledge that Gaius had tried to pound into her head over the years, but she had her own sources of learning. Before she had come to Camelot, she had aided her mother and the other women of Ealdor when there was a babe coming. She had learned of the details of pregnancy and childbirth mainly by listening to the older women talk. What Gwen described sounded very similar to the stories of miscarriages Merlin had listened to.
It took several months after conception for a woman to know for certain that she was with child. Only when the child quickened did she know for sure, though she would suspect long before that. Still, the old crones would talk of how a woman might begin to show signs of pregnancy, only to have them all collapse and her normal bodily function resume with a vengeance. Miscarriages, they’d said with knowing tones. The babies that weren’t strong enough to take root in their mother’s womb.
Gwen’s symptoms were comparable to those stories, Merlin believed. It showed that, at the very least, that Gwen and Arthur both were fertile, even if that fertility hadn’t been successful as of yet.
Taking a deep breath, Merlin looked closely at the queen. “Have you spoken to the physician?” she asked.
Gwen shook her head, an uncomfortable look crossing her face. Merlin understood. When Gaius’ health had forced him to give up his duties, the man’s replacement, Bede, had been met with considerable caution and wariness. The castle’s inhabitants had been faced with strangers who meant naught but harm far too much for the man to be trusted without hesitation. Even now, after three years, some were still more inclined to hear Gaius’ advice than Bede’s.
“Perhaps,” Merlin continued, “we could consult a midwife?” She smiled wryly. “They say that matters of childbirth are women’s business, not men’s. Perhaps it would do well to ask someone who specializes in these things.”
Gwen pondered the suggestion for several moments. “I like the idea,” she said, but still looked particularly hesitant, “but if one is brought into the citadel, it will send everyone talking.”
Merlin winced. Gossip was a fact of life in any court. Gwen was right - bringing a midwife in would immediately set the servants talking and reporting it to their masters, much as Merlin herself had done when she had been Arthur’s maidservant. If the midwife appeared in the morning, then come midday, everyone from the council to the stable-boys would be speculating on whether or not the queen was with child.
“I’ll see what I can do,” she finally replied. “If we’re discrete enough, we might be able to keep it from getting around.”
Relief spread over Gwen’s sweet features again, the second time since Merlin had entered the room. She had so little privacy as Camelot's Queen. If there was a chance Merlin could preserve Gwen’s small bits of privacy, she would certainly do her best.
***
Merlin’s ability to slip about unnoticed had taken a great blow when she had gone from being the king’s maidservant to his royal sorceress. Few people took notice of a servant, even a royal one, but the King’s Sorceress was highly noticeable. Fortunately, Merlin still kept some of her plainer clothing in the depths of the wardrobe of her chambers, as well as the cloak Gaius had given her at the start of her first winter in Camelot. They served very well to disguise her when she had need of them, and magic did the rest.
She waited until the onset of dusk, when the majority of the servants who did not reside in the citadel were leaving to return to their homes in the Lower Town. By insinuating herself into the back of the crowd, she was able to pass by the guards without so much as earning an extra glance.
She walked through the streets of the town, sticking to the well-lit areas as best she could. The streets were well-patrolled, but it never hurt to be cautious. In time, Merlin finally came upon her destination. It was a house like any other, but its occupant was someone who she thought could help with the current situation.
Stepping up to the door, Merlin raised her hand and knocked. A silent pause, and then she heard the sound of shuffling feet coming closer. “Who is it?” a gravely, wizened voice called from inside.
“Blythe,” she replied, “it’s Merlin.”
Blythe was one of the oldest and most successful midwives in Camelot. Merlin wasn’t certain how old she was, but she was close to Gaius’ age at best. She often bragged that she had been around before the Pendragon family had conquered the kingdom, and could recall how times back then had made adults out of children. She was very fond of grumbling that people had it far too easy these days and were getting ‘soft’.
A scraping sound caught Merlin’s attention, and after a moment, the door opened a crack and two wizened brown eyes peered out at her. “What are you doing out here so late, child?” Blythe asked her.
“I needed to speak with you about something,” Merlin responded. She glanced around, wary for eavesdroppers. “It’s private, and I’d rather not talk about it on your doorstep.”
A moment of nothing, and then Blythe opened the door further. As Merlin stepped inside, the old woman turned and moved further into her house. It was rather of a similar size to the house Gwen had once lived in before she and Arthur married. There was a large table in the center of the room, near the large stove that had a crackling fire going in it. Blythe moved toward the table, holding her old shawl close to her body.
“Now,” she said as she sat down on one of the benches, “what was so important that couldn’t wait until a civilized hour? If Gaius is wanting to debate about the advantages of -”
“No, no, nothing like that,” Merlin said, cutting her off while she sat down across from her.
“Ah, well then, what can an old woman do for the mighty King’s Sorceress?”
Merlin wrinkled her nose. It was her official title within the court, and probably the only thing more embarrassing than being referred to by that title was being called ‘Lady Merlin’. She’d never claimed to be a lady, and didn’t think of herself as one even now anymore than Gwen did, despite being the Queen of Camelot.
“I have someone up in the citadel,” she told Blythe. “A lady who is having trouble conceiving, but is hesitant to ask the court physician for help.”
The midwife snorted contemptuously. “What does a man know of matters of childbirth? That’s the province of women, always had been.” Blythe sighed and wrapped her gnarled fingers around the cup in front of her. “Who is it?”
Merlin hesitated, glancing around. “We are alone, right?”
“Of course! My last apprentice finished her training with me and went back to her village.”
Satisfied with Blythe’s word, Merlin leaned forward and said in a low tone, “It’s the Queen.”
Thankfully, Blythe didn’t react loudly. Her eyes widened a little bit, but other than that, she remained calm. “Young Guinevere? Oh dear…”
Merlin nodded. “Yes, and I don’t have to tell you what the consequences might be if it gets out that she’s barren. The king would never forsake her willingly, but the nobles wouldn’t leave him much choice. He needs an heir.” She didn’t have to point out the uncertainty and instability that had plagued Uther’s reign before Arthur’s birth.
The old woman nodded, her expression thoughtful. “And what do you and Her Majesty wish of me?”
“Could you examine her? You know far about these matters than I do, and you’re discrete. Gwen needs all the privacy she can get on this until we decide upon a plan of action.”
Blythe stared at her, and then said, “Of course I will, but if you and the Queen want privacy, how do you propose we go about things? I can’t tell you anything unless I actually get a look at her.”
Merlin thought about that. Gwen was well-guarded and surrounded by people these days. It would be next to impossible to get her out of the citadel without someone noticing her absence. “Perhaps…” she trailed off for a moment, and then brightened as an idea came to her. “Maybe you could come up to the citadel tomorrow, saying you’re going to visit me? Make up something that I need to be instructed in if you’re questioned. Gwen is known to visit my chambers every now and then, and her ladies are terrified of me and won’t come near the place.”
Blythe snorted. “Why are they terrified of you?” she asked. “Unless they’re traitors to the king, you won’t harm a hair on their heads.” At Merlin’s indifferent shrug, the midwife continued, “It sounds like as good a plan as we’ll ever come up with. I’ll be up in the citadel by the eleventh morning bell. You and Guinevere should be ready.”
***
It worked, surprisingly. Just as Merlin predicted, Gwen was able to get away from her entourage to visit Merlin in her chambers. Blythe was already there, under the pretense of showing Merlin ‘the proper way of questioning a lady on delicate matters, since she has no sense of delicacy herself’.
The examination happened on Merlin’s bed, with Merlin mainly sitting beside Gwen and holding her hand while Blythe went about her work. Gwen clutched at her with a vice-like grip that showed her anxiety.
When Blythe finished, she draped the skirt of Gwen’s dress back down over her legs and moved away from the foot of the bed. Gwen and Merlin hurriedly got up and followed the woman over to the table, where she was seating herself.
“Well, first I will say that you’re a healthy woman, Your Majesty,” Blythe began.
Gwen nodded, her expression full of apprehension.
The midwife continued. “There are mysteries about the body that we may never understand, and that includes why women who are perfectly healthy cannot carry a babe in their belly.”
Merlin flinched and Gwen’s breath hitched. “You mean I…” She trailed off, tears filling her eyes.
Blythe’s expression softened. “I’m sorry, dear. If I could tell you why, if I could tell all of these women why, I’d be the richest woman in the kingdom.”
Gwen nodded, obviously struggling to hold back her sorrow. Blythe reached out and squeezed her hand for a moment, and then got to her feet. Nodding sympathetically in Merlin’s direction, she shuffled toward the door and out of the room.
The moment the door shut, Gwen crumpled in her chair. Her breath came in sobbing heaves, and she buried her face in her hands. Merlin leapt to her feet and hurried around to her, quickly wrapping her arms around the other woman. Gwen leaned against her, trembling.
Merlin closed her eyes. She wished she knew what to say to comfort her friend, to allay her fears, but words had never been her strong suit. And truly, what could she say? Gwen was the Queen of Camelot, and she had just been informed that the most important thing the kingdom required of her was the one thing she couldn’t give them.
No, there were no consoling words Merlin could offer Gwen. All she could do was hope to find a solution - and pray that the price would not be too high.
***
Arthur’s face was grey and stony when Merlin finished explaining what Blythe had told her and Gwen that evening. He sat leaning back in the large chair in his chambers, his eyes blank and unseeing. It reminded her uncomfortably of how he had appeared when Uther had died.
Just like with Gwen earlier that day, Merlin was bereft of words to comfort him. In earlier days, before his marriage, she would have taken his hand in hers and squeezed it, a mute gesture. However, for all that Merlin knew the circumstances and truths behind Gwen and Arthur’s marriage, she’d still felt as though a wall, no matter how transparent, had gone up between her and Arthur. There were things she’d used to do that didn’t feel appropriate any more.
“Merlin.”
Arthur was looking at her now. He still had that same devastated look about him, and he was staring at her with a desperate plea in his eyes. “Is there nothing you can do?” he asked her. “The sorcerers who pass through her are always calling you the greatest sorceress in all of Albion. Isn’t there some kind of magic that can help us?”
Something hard and dark settled in Merlin’s stomach. What Arthur was asking… it had been asked before, and they both knew what had resulted from it - over twenty years of blood and madness engulfing the kingdom. “Arthur…”
Apparently Arthur saw her hesitation. “Merlin, I need an heir of my body. Boy or girl, I don’t care. Even if leaving a daughter as my heir means more complications for me, it would still be better than no heir at all.”
At least he’s learned from his father’s mistakes, since Uther couldn’t be bothered to be satisfied with his daughter, a small, sly voice uttered in the back of her head. Ignoring it, Merlin said, “Arthur, I understand that, I do. But I only know of one spell that can give a barren woman a child, and I will not use it, no matter what is at stake.” On this, she was resolved. Merlin refused to sacrifice any life in exchange for another. While she still believed that Uther hadn’t thought that Ygraine’s life would be traded for Arthur’s, Merlin wasn’t going to set up a similar trade, especially when she had no idea whose life would be given up for the hypothetical child. No security was worth ending someone’s life.
Arthur held her gaze, and despite her determination, Merlin felt her heart tremble. He would beg her, she knew. She could see it in his eyes. Gods, was this what Nimueh had been faced with, all those years ago? Had Uther come to her and begged? They had been friends then, and although Gaius rarely spoke of it, Merlin had a feeling that it had been a close friendship, perhaps something like what she and Arthur shared now. Had Uther begged Nimueh, and had she crumbled in the face of it?
Biting her lip, Merlin bowed her head. “I will look for another way,” she allowed. It was as far as she was willing to go. Otherwise, Arthur would have to find another way to keep Camelot secure after his time as king was done.
She wouldn’t make the same choice that Nimueh had.
***
When Gaius’ health forced him to retire as the court physician, he had initially intended to leave the court as well, as most servants often did. He had even talked of traveling to see Merlin’s mother in Ealdor, perhaps staying with her for a time. Arthur, however, had no intention of throwing Gaius out.
“You’ve served my family for longer than I have been alive,” Arthur had told the old man. “I’m not ungrateful, Gaius. And I will always have need of your advice.”
Merlin’s pride and gratitude toward Arthur had nearly burst that day. Though Gaius was no longer the court’s physician, he still remained a presence and voice on Arthur’s advisory council. As a result of retaining such a position, Gaius was permitted a comfortable set of chambers, and the right of permanent residence within the citadel.
Merlin joined Gaius for breakfast several times a week, and she joined him the morning after she spoke to Arthur. She even traveled to the kitchens and coaxed a tray of food out of one of the cooks
Part 2
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