Title: Sugarplums
Category: Het (Canon AU)
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/OC
Rating/Warnings: M
Summary: King Uther always invited a rich variety of noble guests to take part in the grand Yuletide festivities that were held in Camelot each December. This year, however, young Arthur Pendragon finds himself tempted by something far more delightful than expensive gifts and sumptuous feasts. Set just before Series 1.

Author's Note: Wish fulfillment for LadyGuinevere, as part of our 2012 Gift Exchange at The Heart of Camelot. Happy Holidays!

Sugarplums

The snow was falling heavily as the patrol painstakingly navigated their horses down the wide road that led beyond the gates of Camelot. The men were silent and grim faced, distracted by thoughts of the comforts they were leaving behind – roaring fires that chased the chill away, the delicious food and pleasurable company that were so abundant in the palace that was swiftly disappearing in a whirl of frigid, blinding whiteness behind them.

Not a single one complained, however, for they were sworn to put duty above all else. The needs of the kingdom couldn't be put aside because it was cold outside, or one was tired, or even if it happened to be a night of celebration they looked forward to all year long. Their business was urgent, and even if that meant they were obligated to spend the rest of the holiday season searching for their quarry, they wouldn't turn back until the man had been found.

The man in question was known as Lord Bartik, a dear friend of the king's who'd alarmed the entire court when he hadn't arrived with the other guests. It had been ages since he'd visited Camelot, not since the prince had been a little boy, and King Uther was beside himself at the thought that some misfortune might have befallen the one person he'd been longing to see for more years than he could count.

So the patrol rode steadily onward, shivering in their saddles, drooping from weariness as the hours passed and twilight faded into the blackness of a cold winter's night. They'd have to seek shelter soon, but where? There was no possibility of returning to Camelot until their mission was complete, and they'd seen nothing but towering trees pressing in around them for more leagues than they could count.

But just then, Arthur spotted the tiniest flash of light in the distance. It called to him like a beacon, and with a shouted command that was barely audible above the whistling wind, he urged his men forward to investigate.

The snow was coming down even more heavily now, causing Arthur to squint and swear in frustration as he struggled to keep his eyes on the faintly flickering target. The cottage was only a few hundred paces away when it finally became visible, but as he detected a trace of wood smoke on the frigid air, he breathed a sigh of relief.

"Approach with caution," he instructed his men by habit as they dismounted, though it wasn't necessary. Whether friend or foe awaited them inside, there was no other choice but to seek the only shelter they could hope to find in what was swiftly turning into a blizzard.

Arthur took one look at his weary, shivering patrol, then raised a gloved fist and knocked firmly on the door.

"Hello?"

The next thing he knew, a lovely young woman was peering up at him with a friendly, if somewhat cautious expression. She had large brown eyes, so captivating that a few endless seconds passed before he took any notice of the rest of her face – a small, pert nose that was lightly dusted with freckles, soft pink lips, framed on either side by a cascade of dark red curls.

She seemed as taken aback as he was at first, before her eyes fell to the golden dragon emblazoned on his cloak. Breaking into a huge smile, she pushed the door open wider and waved them all inside.

"Father told me you would find us," she said, taking a step back so the men could enter. "Quietly if you please. He's already asleep, and I'd rather he not be disturbed. We've had a rough journey."

Arthur stared at her as she crossed the room to set another log on the fire. "Are you...?" he started a little awkwardly, taking note of the fine velvet gown that couldn't have belonged to the type of person one might expect to find living in a humble cottage in the middle of the wilderness. "You must be... but how...?"

"I am Lady Alina," she said with a smile, as she helped him remove his cloak and hung it over a chair to dry. "My father is Lord Bartik, dear friend to the king. We were traveling to Camelot... well, you already know that, I'm sure. It's been more than fifteen years since my father has made the journey, but the stubborn fool wouldn't allow the king to send us an escort. Said he could still find his way to Camelot with his eyes closed, thank you very much."

Arthur smiled as she let out a little laugh. "So you...?"

"Of course, we ended up hopelessly lost. It's a good thing we happened to stumble across this place earlier today – I wasn't looking forward to spending my holiday freezing to death in the snow."

"But didn't you bring any guards?" one of the knights interjected politely.

Alina nodded. "We did... well, just the two. Father calls them his very best. Says each of them are worth ten well armed men."

"Where are they now?" Arthur asked her, unable to restrain his curiosity.

She ducked her head and blushed. "Ulric cut himself with his own sword and had to remain behind in the first village we passed to receive treatment from the healer there. And Godwin was so distraught about his companion that he refused to leave his side. More like he refused to leave the temptation of good, strong ale if you ask me, but that's no matter. We've been on our own for most of the journey."

Arthur opened his mouth, then closed it again, struggling for a response that wouldn't cause offense. The man his father had described had been a formidable warrior in his time – what had happened to make him so careless?

Alina seemed to sense the direction of his thoughts. "There was a skirmish several years ago. Father... he took a brutal blow to the head. He's still himself in most ways, but the common sense he once had... his keen judgment..."

"Say no more," Arthur told her gently. "I understand."

He didn't, really, but his reassurance seemed to be enough for Lady Alina. Any trace of sadness disappeared from her features, chased away by a bright, cheerful smile.

"You must be hungry," she said, giving him a measuring look before glancing at his three companions. "I'm afraid I don't have much to offer, but we were bringing along a few treats to present to the king. Please," she paused to gesture at a collection of cheerfully decorated containers that sat on top of the ancient looking table. "Help yourselves."

After the knights had made a surprisingly adequate feast out of mincemeat pies, dried fruits, and an array of hard cheeses, they bedded down on the floor beside the fire. Only Arthur and Alina remained awake, both lingering over the last morsels of the makeshift meal as if reluctant to part company.

She fidgeted, clearly growing restless as they lapsed into silence, before letting out a huge sigh and rising to her feet. "Come with me."

It never occurred to Arthur that he was a prince, and as such, should be giving the commands rather than receiving them. He followed her without question, curious and a little excited when his eyes strayed to the gentle sway of her hips as she crossed the room and pushed open a small door.

Like most cottages, this one was comprised of a main room, a small bedchamber, and a tiny storage room. It was the last of these that enclosed them as Alina shut the door behind him with a barely audible click. There wasn't space to walk more than a few paces from one side to the other, but since it was located right behind the fireplace, it was warm and surprisingly cozy. A lone candle flickered atop a wooden crate in the corner, and as Arthur took note of the pile of finally brocaded blankets on the floor, his heart beat a little faster.

This must be where she intended to sleep. But why had she brought him with her?

"Sit down," she said quietly.

He sank down onto the makeshift pallet, mesmerized by the sight of her softly rounded backside as she bent over to retrieve something from her satchel.

Folding her legs gracefully, she joined him on the floor, taking a moment to adjust her skirt before holding out a small canister. "Open it," she whispered, as she held it out to him.

She studied him with liquid dark eyes, Brady with anticipation as he pried the lid off the container and peered inside. "What is this? Sugarplums?"

"They're my favorite. I always eat them just at midnight on the eve of Yule." She looked down shyly, twisting her hands in her lap. "I know you're missing the celebrations because you had to search for us, and… well, I know it isn't much, but I wanted to express my gratitude."

Deeply moved, Arthur couldn't think of a proper response. He merely watched her instead, entranced as she took a sugarplum between her fingers and held it up to his lips. It was more intimate than anything he'd ever experienced, the sound of her breath catching in her throat as his mouth brushed against her fingertips. Every sensation was magnified, a nameless tension swiftly building between them as he swallowed the sweet fruit with a soft, "Mmmm..."

When he tried to return the favor, Arthur knew he was lost. Her lips closed around his fingers, her quiet murmur of pleasure sending a jolt of arousal through his body that was impossible to ignore.

And then he was kissing her with a fierceness that surprised him, pulling her flush against his body as he plundered the recesses of her mouth. The taste of fruit and honey was sweet on her tongue, but far more delicious was the flavor that was hers and hers alone. She gripped his shoulders and pressed herself closer, whimpering her encouragement as he deepened the kiss, fingers fumbling with the laces of her bodice.

This is madness, echoed some faint voice in the back of his mind as the ties came apart. I should be chivalrous... I shouldn't...

He expected her to cry out in protest when his hand covered her bare breast, his heartbeat quickening as his thumb brushed across a hard nipple. Instead, she shuddered and moaned, her head falling back as his lips moved across her throat, trailing up to nibble at an earlobe…

After that, it was all instinct – Arthur had never experienced anything more than a few hesitant kisses from a servant girl he'd once fancied back in Camelot. Butterflies danced in his stomach as he took Alina's nipple in his mouth, but nervousness faded away to be replaced by hot, pressing desire, the need to satisfy a craving that was stronger than anything he'd ever felt before.

She felt it too – he could see it in her eyes as he eased the dress from her body, taking a moment to gaze at her naked curves with a hazy sort of reverence. Stripping away his own tunic and trousers, he knelt between her thighs, so painfully hard he feared he might explode before he even touched her again.

Somehow he managed to maintain control as he started at her lips and worked his way down, groaning low in his throat in response to her breathless sighs and moans of encouragement. Her hands fisted in his hair as his tongue traced circles around her navel then moved lower, anxious to explore what was hidden beneath the soft auburn curls that were nestled between her thighs.

Her legs fell apart with a nudge of his hand, and though he fumbled around at first, he soon figured out what to do through subtle movements and soft little cries that told him how and where she liked to be touched. Her taste was exquisite, intoxicating, nearly driving him mad with desire, before at long last, she arched her back with a helpless moan and fell limp against the blankets.

Unable to wait any longer, Arthur positioned himself between her trembling thighs, pausing just long enough to give her a chance to stop him if this was too much. Alina seemed to understand; she gave him a shaky smile and shifted her hips, tilting them up in silent invitation.

That was all he needed. With a shuddering groan, he pushed into her slowly, carefully, just in case...

But no, there was only pleasure in the soft moan that vibrated against his lips as she began to move in a slow, sensuous rhythm in perfect time with his tentative thrusts. It didn't take long... how could it? He'd never known what it felt like to be inside a woman, had never experienced the primal hunger that took control of his senses, begging for one thing that eclipsed all other awareness.

Release.

It came upon him as if from out of nowhere, his hoarse cry muffled against her neck as his body spasmed in wave after wave of mindless bliss. When his climax finally faded into a feeling of drowsy contentment, he collapsed beside her and pulled her into his arms, his eyes drifting closed as she stroked his sweat dampened hair.

The next thing he knew, it was happening again, her slender body rising to straddle his hips just as the first hint of sunlight crept through the window of their private sanctuary. Their joining was slower this time, each wanting to prolong their final moments as she rode him with a careful restraint that kept his desire at a low, steady hum. It couldn't last forever though, the end marked by a swift succession of pounding thrusts followed by a surprisingly tender kiss.

Still flushed and a little breathless, they finally rose to dress in the chilly morning air, resigned to the fact that it was over. It was time to return to the real world, each of them obligated to move forward upon the paths that would lead to their separate destinies.

But no matter how many years had passed since that stolen night, even when the inexperience of youth had faded away and Arthur had become a man, a king, and then a devoted husband, he was never able to taste another sugarplum without thinking of Alina.