The Wife 5/?
Title: The Wife 5/?
Author:tudor_rose445
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings:Arthur, Guinevere, Morgana, Uther, Merlin, Gaius, Arthur/Guinevere,
Spoilers: Seasons 1-3
Disclaimer: I own nothing. BBC owns "Merlin".
Summary: AU. As the wife of the prince Gwen knows that she is destined to one day rule beside him. Yet the road to the throne will not be simple. Talks of an heir looming above her, the growing worry over Morgana, Uther's ill health, and her confusion over her spouse will not help in the slightest. Yet her trials are nesecary to grow into her title as 'wife' to one of legend's most famous kings. The second entry in "The Once and Future" series.
Chapter 5:
With Progress ending, good news is announced.
Author's Note:
Thanks for hanging in there; I posted a bit later than I normally do. The next post will be not this Friday, but the one after. Thanks for reading!
For the third time that week Gwen found her meal resurfacing.
Having seen her mistress' expression, Catherine dove for the recently emptied washbasin to place under the woman's head.
Grimacing against the bitter taste of the vomit still in her mouth the wife straightened up afterward.
She shuddered, having caught sight of the remains of her breakfast, and turned her head.
“As we did yesterday, Cat,” she instructed quietly, going to one of her clothing trunks to search for a handkerchief. The lady-in-waiting took the basin and grabbed a nearby cloth to drape over the top. The princess took deep, calming breaths.
Feeling somewhat better after a few minutes of breathing in such a manner she turned her attention to her fidgeting lady-in-waiting.
“Thank you,” she said, her face tinged slightly red from embarrassment. Becoming sick wasn't the most flattering thing to ever do, especially in front of another. Yet the other woman had taken her mistress' sickness in stride these past three times and had helped her as much as she could.
It had happened for the first time on the way back from her morning walk. She tried, even on Progress, to take a turn about the gardens or halls. Catherine was charged with accompanying her as her other three ladies were not too keen with traipsing about the grounds. They had nearly reached the manor when she had felt the burning in her chest the first time, giving her just enough time to get to a nearby bush.
She had shaken it off, thinking that perhaps she had eaten something spoiled. For good measure she ordered Catherine not to tell anyone what had happened, as if word got to Batilda or Arthur she would be forced to see Gaius. She didn't want to be the cause of Progress being delayed because she was feeling ill. And anyway, after she had rid her stomach of her breakfast, she had felt much better. It had most likely been a type of food she had eaten.
And then it happened two days later, although she had been lucky enough to have returned to her empty chamber in time.
And then today.
She could feel Catherine pleading with her eyes to do something about the situation but Gwen ignored her as she rinsed the taste from her mouth. She couldn't tell anyone that she wasn't feeling well, especially with the king's birthday feast that evening. It nearly always coincided with the last manor of Progress; she wasn't going to miss the last night.
“Please tell the prince that I will join him shortly upon the green,” she instructed to the young woman, watching her curtsey out of the corner of her eye.
Catherine nodded, murmuring a 'milady' before exiting with the bowl. Where she dumped it Gwen was unsure, and didn't wish to know.
Gwen withdrew a fresh handkerchief, and carefully wiped at the sweat that had formed on her face before trying to bring some life back to her cheeks.
Knowing, after around ten minutes, that the half-cheery look she was currently sporting was the best she could do, the princess left her borrowed chambers for the green. The younger members of the court had decided to put together a game of bowls that morning instead of sitting about for the rest of the day waiting for the evening's celebration.
Having always enjoyed the game and, not wanting to snub their hosts' eldest son, she had decided to join in the games.
She took a deep breath before exiting the stone castle and crossing the courtyard to where the game was to be played. If she acted like everything was alright no one would notice; at least, that is what she had been doing to Batilda through the years.
“Decided that you have a chance at winning, my lady?” her husband questioned, a teasing smile upon his lips.
Finding that her eyes had strayed to long on his lips she laughed, trying to mask her flustered behavior.
“You have forgotten how well I play, sire,” she answered, continuing to play along with this teasing game. Yet, it was obvious, that there was a hint of flirtation involved.
Ages ago, not long after she had arrived at the citadel, Igraine had taught her to play. The queen herself had been an excellent player and had won quite often when she had played with the children. She wondered what the queen would think of her now, as wife to her only son. Would she be pleased? Would she want someone of a more distinguished birth?
As she stepped past the nobles gathered by the edge of the playing area the men and women bowed their heads to her. At the end of the line was Lady Arabella who, as she remembered, had more than enough criticism to give her. Yet as she paused beside the offensive woman to gain a ball from the attending steward, the woman dropped her a polite 'my lady'. Gwen had, after some time, managed to gather a little knowledge over the course of her years at court in learning to read people. Morgana had been far better at it but Gwen thought that she could hold her own by now. The woman, who had spoken condescendingly to her before, spoke now as politely as it seemed she could. Her tone was rather flat, as if she did not wish to utter the words, yet they were not tinted with hatred or teasing as they had once been.
Gwen found herself staring at the woman, who refused to meet her gaze, for a moment before rolling her first turn.
As she returned to the end of the line she hid a frown.
What had happened?
As she was thinking this over she missed the hidden look that Arthur had given the two and, at Arabella's subsequent politeness, a nod.
0o0o0
“Not too tight, Eleanor,” she instructed the young woman as she was laced into her corset. Gwen had grown used to the contraption after years of use and had learned to 'suffer in silence'. Yet lately she had been most sensitive in the upper area of her breasts. She supposed that she had perhaps had had the stays too tightly laced the past few days and that she was only feeling the repercussions now.
“But it will not fit correctly, my lady,” the younger woman pipped up, hesitance flashing across her features.
Gwen inwardly groaned.
“Then lace it as normal.”
She could put up with it for the night. Once the feast was over the garment would be discarded. She hid a blush as she busied herself with adjusting her sleeves. All of her clothing would be gone if Arthur had his way.
She wouldn't admit it, but she was starting to look forward to these thrilling nights with her husband.
After giving the woman a nod of thanks, Gwen stepped toward the mirror above the vanity table. Although the small mirror did not reflect her entire ensemble back to her, she could gather enough from the glimpse she was given that she looked presentable for that night's festivities.
Grey flowers were imprinted upon the fabric, covering it completely. How many hands had stitched the yards and yards of fabric that currently draped her body? The fabric had cost quite a bit and Gwen wouldn't have normally purchased something so extravagant, princess or no princess. Yet the cloth had been a bridal gift from one of Uther's councilors. She knew that the man most likely wished to gain her favor from such an extravagant gift, but that didn't stop her from commissioning a gown from the cloth shortly after her wedding.
Gold brocade outlined the square neckline of the gown while lining the outside of her sleeves. The bell sleeves, one of her favorite fashions, dusted the floor every time she moved. The gown was normally worn with a gold shift that reached her collarbone yet, with the heat of that August night, she dressed without the additional bit of fabric. The swell of her breasts was visible without this additional piece of fabric, allowing herself to be marginally cooler than if she had worn yet another piece of suffocating cloth.
The young woman drew aside her sleeves as Beatrice moved behind her, clipping a golden girdle about her slim hips. The chain, with a sapphire placed in the middle, reached to her shins. Brushing back her hair she smiled at her waiting women.
“Thank you, ladies,” she said, nodding toward the door. Her women were outfitted in their best attire for the king's birthday feast which, if she judged correctly from Eleanor and Catherine's expressions, made them terribly excited.
Leading the way out of her chambers she followed the path to the manor's great hall. Arthur had long gone down to the feasting, having dressed in a marginal amount of time compared to her own preparations.
She inwardly sighed.
Men.
She paused beside the doors to the hall, nodding to the steward who announced her.
She placed a smile upon her lips as she acknowledged the bowed heads as she passed on her way to the dais, still feeling a bit awkward at such attention. She would have to become used to it, as she knew when she became queen she would be given even more of this courtesy.
Grasping Arthur's hand as he helped her to stand before her chair she turned her brown eyes to the door that she had just walked through. A moment later the king appeared to a polite smattering of applause. He seemed in better spirits than he had been in the entire trip, which made Gwen feel relieved. It pained her to see her former guardian ailing so; he had been a constant in her life for so long and it felt odd to think of him bordering on the brink of death. Yet Gaius had reassured the royal family that the king would live. She hoped that the physician was right.
As the feast began, page boys presented the king with various gifts given to him by his court. In between sipping at her soup Gwen observed the items paraded to the dais: a new collar of gold, a well-oiled leather bridle, a silken tunic. In between watching and eating she patted her cheeks with her handkerchief. The hall was becoming dreadfully hot faster than she had anticipated. She couldn't hide her smile as the next gift- a saddle trimmed in gold- was led to the king. Beneath the saddle was a finely stitched saddle pad of Pendragon red. In gold thread was stitched 'UR', for the king's initials: Uther Rex.
As the page announced who the gift was from, Uther turned to his son and daughter-in-law.
“You always know just what to gift me,” he teased, clapping his son on his shoulder before standing to approach his former ward.
“And do I spy your needlework, my lady?” he guessed, pressing a kiss to her temples.
She smiled, clasping his hand with both of hers.
“It is, my lord. I should hope that you will use both for your return to the citadel; you will truly return in brilliance.”
Something unspoken passed between the two then. All three knew that if the king returned looking lively and regal there would be less talk about his health.
“You have read my mind, my dear,” he commented, smiling once more before returning to his seat.
Arthur grabbed her free hand, silently thanking her for reassuring the king.
She turned to speak to him but froze as the next course was brought in.
A platter of roasted chicken was at the forefront of the fowl course and was currently on its way to be presented to the king.
The aroma of the meat, which normally would have piqued her appetite, caused her stomach to somersault.
She chanced a quick glance around at the nobles closest to her to gauge their reactions. Did no one else smell that terrible odor? The chicken must be rancid.
She turned once more to Arthur to question him about the smell, and felt her entire world spin at the small movement. Feeling a light sheen of sweat begin to break out across her temples she moved to stand. It was Merlin, and not Batilda who was standing off behind her, that noticed the princess' unsteady stance first.
“My lady?” he questioned, catching the former nursemaid's attention.
Gwen had managed to get out of her chair as she fought to steady her vision.
“I'm... I'm fine. It's the smell...,” she reassured him, seeing Batilda hover near her from her peripheral vision.
Having been in conversation with his father Arthur only turned now to see that she had stood.
“Gwen?”
“I just need...”
And before she knew it her eyes rolled up, leaving her to fall to the stone floor.
0o0o0
Guinevere sputtered as a foreign smell invaded her nose, causing her to open her eyes sharply. She wrinkled her nose at the satchel of smelling salts that Gaius had been waving beneath her nostrils.
She squinted for a moment in the dim lighting of the bedchamber, recognizing the king and her husband on either side of the bed she was currently reclining upon. Batilda was positioned at the foot, a look of worry forming yet another crease upon her face.
“What?...”
She went to sit up but was gently pushed back down by the physician.
“You had best rest, my lady,”he instructed, packing away the offending stimulant. He gave her an appraising look, as if doing such would be able to diagnose her problem straight off.
“Have you been feeling ill recently?”
She opened her mouth to respond, hesitated, and then sighed.
“Yes,” she admitted, ignoring Batilda's frown at her deception.
“I have been...ill in the mornings.” It was embarrassing enough to speak to Catherine about them, but now she had to admit them to no less than three other people.
“But I supposed it was because of the heat and our traveling pace.”
Traveling pace? She felt as if they were simply crawling along the roads of the kingdom these past few months. Yet she had to give some excuse to not alerting anyone that she was not feeling well.
Gaius hesitated, a single white brow arching.
“If you would please leave me and the princess,” he requested of the king, inadvertently asking the other two to leave as well. Arthur gave her a lingering look of concern before reluctantly following his father from the room. Batilda was a bit more stubborn but, after a request from the king, she left the two alone.
Gwen looked down at her hands as Gaius continued to stare at her.
“If you would excuse my speaking, my lady, but has your bosom felt tender?”
Feeling her cheeks flame at such a question she nodded, not trusting herself to speak.
“And you said something about a certain smell before you fainted.”
She reluctantly looked up at him.
“The chicken smelt off,” she answered, knowing how foolish she must sound.
Her long time friend took up a spot on the bed near her, his wizened hands in his lap.
“And when did you last bleed?”
She blinked.
“What?”
He repeated the question again, trying to fight amusement in his eyes as he watched the girl that had become something of a granddaughter to him put the symptoms together.
“I, well, it should have been about a week and a half ago.”
“I? I can't? I am?”
He patted her hand as she struggled to come to terms with the fact that she was pregnant.
0o0o0
Arthur glanced up as Gaius stepped out into the corridor. He knew that there must already be rumors circulating the great hall on what had happened to his new wife. He himself had nearly frozen with fear when he had seen her falling, and almost didn't nearly catch her. He had been reminded in that instant of his own illness, as a child, that had placed him on the brink of death.
He had thought that she had contracted the plague.
He hoped that her arms did not bruise as he had been holding her so tightly, almost afraid to loosen his grip that she may drift away.
Their elderly host trotted up to the king, finally having had returned from the great hall.
Arthur barely heard him whisper with his father behind him as all of his attention was focused on the court's long time physician.
Waiting for the baron to leave after updating the king, Gaius addressed the three gathered.
“The princess will be fine. She is, in fact, with child.”
Inwardly laughing at the look on the younger royal's face he bid the two goodnight, leaving king and prince alone.
Without waiting another moment Arthur nearly tore into the room, catching Gwen unaware. She jumped slightly, having been still processing the news. She barely had time to move her arms as he embraced her, bringing her to rest against his warm body. She felt his relief in the hug as she held onto him as tightly as she could.
They had done it.