After I bothered her to no end, my aunt told me of the night I was born. After all, she was there. I considered it her duty to tell me what she remembered. This is what she told me.
It was warm that night; she said she could see the stars through the window, twinkling at her (my aunt was no poet; I embellished the story slightly). The midwife that also witnessed my birth was old and gnarled with trembling hands, leaving my aunt to do the dirty work (she was rather bitter when she said this, I might add). Just as she handed me to my mother (a beautiful golden haired woman, with eyes like the afternoon sky, as I imagined she was through my childhood. Really it didn't make sense, I had dark hair and eyes and everyone said I looked like her), there were shouts in the street. "The Queen has had a boy! Long live the Prince! Long live the Prince of Camelot!"
"Long live my girl. She is equal to any prince." My mother had whispered.
Queen Igraine died that night; bleed out, the rumours said. Just before she did though, she named the little prince. Arthur. Prince Arthur Pendragon. My mother fell ill with fever, infection, and died within the week. She was either delirious or asleep up until her death so she never gave me a name.
When she died my father stared at her bed for a week, too deep in grieving to hear me squall. He finally noticed me in the corner, starving. I was done screaming, too weak to even cry. He sent me away to live with his sister, my aunt. He died that year, from illness brought on from lack of food and lack of will to live. I was orphaned before I was two.
I grew up in a small house with too many occupants. My uncle was a baker but we didn't eat as well as one might think. The money he made wasn't enough; there were too many mouths to feed. My aunt decided that they were having enough trouble feeding their own children. I listened through the door as she told my uncle that they were sending me to live with my mother's brother.
At the age of four I was packed up once more and sent to live with yet another relative. I didn't care. I didn't like being hungry anymore than they did, and I hated my cousins. They told me that I wasn't worth anything because my parents didn't want me. "They're dead!" I screamed at them. "It wasn't their fault!" Still, their taunts burned me.
Luckily, my other uncle, a blacksmith, was much better prepared to take in an orphan. His wife was unable to have children, so they accepted me as their own. I was, in truth, their little girl, whether they conceived me or not.
I remember the year I was six, a lady came to court. She was to be the king's ward. Lady Morgana, they called her; gossip said that she was five, a year younger than me, and that she was an orphan too. I felt an instant connection to this noble girl that I had never met. She knew loss, and she knew what it was like to have no one want you so that you're forced to move around. When people began shouting that she had arrived, I ran out to the streets, desperate to see her.
I was pushed into a gutter and almost stepped on, but I didn't care because there she was with and escort of guards and the king himself. I cared nothing for them, although someone started up a cry of "The King! The King!" No, my eyes were drawn to the child seated majestically upon a white mare. She had long black hair held back from her face by a red ribbon, and she was dressed in the finest clothes I had ever seen. She smiled at the crowd, but her eye met mine and she smiled a special smile, one just for me.
"Lady Morgana!" I cried with all of the might in my six-year-old lungs. "Lady Morgana!" She reined in her horse to the protests of her guards. I pushed forward as she bent down to speak.
"What is your name?" She asked.
"Guinevere." I replied breathlessly. Up close she was stunning, even at five years old.
"Guinevere, you have given me the best welcome I could have asked for. This is for you." She pulled the ribbon from her ebony locks and handed it to me. I cradled it in my grubby fingers. It was far finer than anything I'd ever held before.
"Come along Morgana." Called King Uther. She rode off into the palace gates, and I headed home.
I heard nothing of her for two years. I went on with my daily living. I played with some of the children and I had friends. All was well.
That year the plague came. It claimed many children, some of them my friends. It spared no one. People sickened and died; my dear aunt included. After her body was gone, my uncle took me in his arms.
"You're all I've got now Gwen. You are like my daughter. I could not love you more if you were."
I hugged him. "You are my father." I said into his shoulder. "And I am your daughter." I called him father from then on, and I saw his face light up every time I said it. We made our way through the sorrow, slowly, but we survived.
The plague brought much sorrow, but it also brought a blessing. When the plague passed word said that Lady Morgana's maid had caught plague and died. She was in need of a new servant. She sent for me! She remembered me! "Guinevere the village girl." She called me. I went to the castle, I became her serving girl.
To tell the truth, Morgana had a nurse; I didn't have any real duties. We played together, as equals in both our eyes. I called her Morgana, Morgie, as she insisted. We would play Knight and Princess, a game that Morgana came up with. I was the fair princess and she was the knight who rode to my rescue and saved me from the fiery dragon. She insisted that it was only right that I wear one of her dresses if I was the princess; she stole the tiny set of armour made for Arthur and wore it. I had to sit at her looking glass while she battled her dragon.
Once, just before Morgana made her entrance, the king himself stalked in. "Morgana! We are having a banquet in honour of Arthur's birthday; I want you to present his gift..." He trailed off, realising that the girl before him was not the Lady Morgana, but her servant.
"Where is Lady Morgana?" He roared at me. "Why are you wearing her clothes? What have you done with her, you evil little-?"
"Uther? What are you doing?" Morgana pulled off Arthur's helmet as she stepped into the room. The king looked from her to me, taking in the scene. Her long hair fell into her face; the tie had come undone.
"Morgana. Servants do not wear ones clothes. Servants do are there to serve you. They are not equals. They are servants. And give Arthur his armour back."
He turned to me. "Take those off- they are too fine for you." Then he left. I rose and began stripping off Morgana's beautiful dress. After I had pulled mine back on, noticing the difference in the texture, the color, the quality of the fabric, I curtseyed. Morgana had sat on her bed, still in Arthur's armour.
"Forgive me milady." I said to the floor. "But we should not have done that. You are a lady. I am your servant."
"Gwen!" She said, crossing the room. "You may be my servant, and it may not be allowed for you to wear my clothes, or even play with me, but you are my best friend. I would die for you." She swept me into a tight hug, armour and all, and then pulled away. "I, Lady Morgana of Camelot, solemnly swear that Guinevere is my truest and greatest friend, and will be for all time. I will go to the death for her." She had her right hand raised in the air. Wryly I wondered where she had gotten this new method of silliness.
She was looking expectantly at me so I raised my hand and repeated her. "I, Guinevere, solemnly swear that Morgana is my truest and greatest friend, and will be for all time. I will go to the death for her."
Morgana hugged me again.
"Now, let's get ready for that banquet." She said as I wondered if she really was only seven.
Morgana insisted I come to the banquet; she would need her maid, what if her hair fell down? She asked innocently, but with a wink. I stood by the wall, hidden behind a pillar. I watched, curious to see the boy who shared my birthday. When everyone was seated around the huge table, Arthur entered and sat, to the right of the king. On the king's left was Morgana. She caught my eye and smiled. I focused on Arthur again.
He was splendid, all in red and gold, with straw coloured hair and blue, blue eyes. Already he had the build for a knight, strong and with broad shoulders. He caught be looking at him and gave me a strange look. Why are you here? His eyes asked. I flicked my eyes to Morgana who giggled merrily. Then I looked away. The banquet began, full of dishes of delicacy. The smells made my stomach rumble. It was like torture for me to stand through all eight courses, one for every year of Arthur's life. Then I remembered. Today would be my birthday too.
After the eating there was a presentation. Everyone stood during this. Arthur stood on the raised floor where the throne's sat, nervously. Morgana walked forward, one pace at a time, her long train dragging behind her. In her hands was a scabbard, and in the scabbard was a magnificent sword. To my nine year old mind it seemed foolish to have such a ceremony for a present, but it was splendid. The young prince drew the sword from the scabbard and swung it around experimentally. It wasn't a full length sword, he wouldn't be able to lift one of those, I knew. It was a shorter, thinner blade, still sharp and potentially deadly. I knew that I would have to talk Morgana out of "borrowing" it in the future.
That night Morgana begged me to stay; she was up to something I knew it. She had that dangerous gleam in her eye. "Please!" I countered. "If His Majesty finds out about whatever you're planning I will be in such trouble. Maybe I won't be able to be your maid anymore!" I played my desperate card.
Morgana considered a moment. "He won't find out." She said with conviction.
I ran home to tell father I would stay, he was worried. "Be careful. Lady Morgana sounds like a mischievous girl." He said, but he let me stay.
I waited in an old room, unused and dusty. Huddled in a tattered cloak I shivered. "Who's there?" a scared voice asked. I stepped into the sliver of moonlight. "Oh," said the voice with obvious relief. "You're Lady Morgana's maid, aren't you?"
"Guinevere. My name is Guinevere."
"Very well, Guinevere. My name is Arthur." He stepped into the moonlight also. It gleamed off his golden hair. "What are you doing here?" He asked.
"Morgana told me to wait here, Sire."
"She told me the same. I wonder what she's up to." He hesitated a moment before correcting me. "Tonight my name is just Arthur."
"Happy Birthday." It slipped out before I could stop it.
His voice was surprised in the dark. "Thank you."
"It is my birthday too you know."
"Really." He actually sounded interested. I told him the story of my birth. He sighed in the dark. "You're lucky. I don't know anything about my birth, or my mother."
"Why don't you ask your father?" I asked curiously. Surely his father would want Arthur to know.
"All I know is that Gaius, the physician, was there. My father doesn't like to talk about my mother. He misses her I think." He sounded woeful.
I sat down. "Well, it was a starry night, unnaturally warm." I heard him sit down across from me. "Your mother was beautiful. She had long black hair, longer than Morgana's. Her eyes were blue, like yours, the same color as the midsummer sky. Her skin was pale as the moon. When Gaise put you in her arms she smiled a smile that lit up the world. " 'Arthur.' She said. 'I will call this beautiful'-"
"Handsome." Arthur put in automatically.
" 'I will call this handsome baby boy Arthur.' And then she fell ill with a terrible disease, and gave her life for the crown prince of Camelot."
"That was beautiful Gwen." Said a voice from the dark. "Remind me to get you to tell me more stories."
"Morgana!" cried Arthur, jumping to his feet. "What are you planning?"
"We are going to celebrate your birthday, our way." She replied. I could almost hear her grinning.
"You mean your way." I grumbled Arthur laughed as we left the room and Morgana shushed him. She led us down the hall, down stairs, a lot of stairs. We went all the way down to the dungeons.
"Morgana!" Arthur hissed. "We're not supposed to be here!" He stumbled.
"Stop being a sissy, Art. Let's go."
We followed her to a gate that was heavily locked. I was about to ask how we were getting in when Morgana produced a key. The thrill of adventure had filled me as she pulled open the gate and led us down, even deeper then the dungeons. The slope was uneven and I stumbled. Arthur caught me.
"Thanks, Art." I said teasing him.
"No problem Guinevere." He countered. I smiled.
"Be quiet, both of you!" Morgana muttered. We went down until it was so dark we couldn't see.
"Didn't even think to bring a torch?" asked Arthur. Morgana ignored him. We went around a turn and the world exploded in light. To my child's eyes it looked as though there were mountains, huge mounds of rocks rising up from the floor.
"Awesome!" Shouted Arthur as he began to make his way down to the ground. His voice echoed off the falls.
Morgana grabbed the back of his shirt. "Wait."
I looked about for the source of the light. I monstrous shape dropped before me, landing on one of the mountains. "Looking for me?" It asked.
Instinctively I grabbed Arthur. One of his arms went around me, pulling me closer. He was trembling just as much as I was, but he raised his sword, his birthday present, before him. "You, dragon. I demand to know what you are doing beneath my castle." He inquired.
"Your castle?" Asked the dragon.
"I am Prince Arthur. This is my castle."
"Your father imprisoned me here. Ahhhh...you have a great destiny before you. A great destiny." It sighed.
"My father? My father wouldn't do this. You lie. What was that about my destiny?" But the dragon was flying off. I now saw the chain around its massive foot. "Wait! Come back!" Arthur called. "I command you!" The dragon ignored him and flew off.
"What was that all about?" I asked. Arthur withdrew his arm, lowering his sword.
"I have no idea." He replied. There were shouts from above, people moving. My heart froze in my chest as we all looked at each other.
"Run!" Said Morgana. So we did.
We stuck around the guards and back to Morgana's room. "That was a close one." She said, grinning.
"A close one? You almost got us caught!" retorted Arthur, furious at her excitement.
"I almost got us caught? I wasn't the one who was yelling at the dragon."
"You knew it was there? And you took us? It could have been dangerous!"
"I knew I had you to protect me." She fluttered her lashes at him, teasingly.
"Stop it! Did you think about Gwen? Father might just have confined you to your room for a week, but he would put her in jail!"
"Gwen wanted to come, didn't you Gwen?"
I had barely nodded when Arthur spoke again. "You girls are all the same!" He began to storm out of the room, disgusted.
I put my hand on his arm. "Good night Arthur." I whispered. He turned to me.
"Good night Gwen." Then he left.
Little did I know as I was walking home that night, exhausted, that this was just the beginning.
More adventures were to come with Morgana and Arthur.