Author's Note: So here's the next chapter, finally! This chapter is a bit of a crossover with The Tudors with a flashback in King Henry's VIII court.
Making a bit of use with the M-rating. Nothing explicit, though. The thought of writing a love scene makes me giggle.
Also I'm glad that those of you who don't like/are unsure about vampire stories are giving this a chance/like it and I hope you stay onboard with the story. :D
Chapter 4: Mothers
Merlin finally looked away from Excalibur. "Right—so, since both of you are here, I might as well ask now..."
"What is it, Merlin?" Arthur asked interested in what he had to say. Merlin could clearly see that his boss was in better spirits.
"Tomorrow's Christmas Eve," he thought to remind them. He had planned to go to his mother's and bring Arthur with him like he did every year. He didn't want to ruin the reunion, but he needed to leave, and there was only one car. "You know what, I'll call a taxi."
Realization flashed across Arthur's face. "Oh, right," he looked at Guinevere. "Tell Hunith I'm sorry that I couldn't make it."
Gwen looked back and forth between them. "Hunith?"
"My mum," Merlin said. He could feel his face automatically spread in a wide grin as it did whenever he spoke of his mother. "I go to hers every year. I've been dragging Arthur along since we met. He would always get mope—" He stopped when Arthur glared at him.
Gwen looked guilty. "I don't want to ruin your tradition," she said to him and then to Arthur, "I'll be fine here."
Merlin didn't know much about Gwen, but if she's spent fifteen hundred years with Arthur, then she's bound to pick up some of his habits. Self-isolation being one of them. He now knew that Avalon was where Arthur went to get away, and imagining him alone in the mansion with his thoughts, haunted by memories rather than cherishing them…Well, he felt sad just thinking about Gwen doing the same.
"I'll ring her and tell her you're coming too, Gwen," he said.
Gwen shook her head. "No, I couldn't. I don't want to impose."
But Merlin already had his phone out. "Oh, she'll love to have another girl around!" He dialed with excitement.
The door opened before Merlin could put the key in the lock. His mother beamed at them with her arms wide open.
"My boys! Come in, come in." Hunith ushered Arthur and Merlin inside.
Gwen remained on the other side of the threshold, unsure of what to do or say. "And you must be Gwen," Hunith said reaching for her. Hunith's hands were warm and inviting and smelled of sugar cookies. She gave Gwen a comforting smile. "Please come in and out of this cold," she said and gently guided her inside.
Hunith's tone confused Gwen. She wasn't sure if Hunith knew she was a vampire and couldn't enter without an invite, or if she was just being polite. Arthur answered her unspoken questions when he said, "Hunith knows about the whole vampire-thing."
"It's a pleasure to meet you," Hunith said genuinely. When she let go of her hands, Gwen immediately missed the motherly touch. Hunith went back to the kitchen to put another batch of cookies in the oven and clear up the mess. As she walked away she called over her shoulder, "The first time Merlin brought Arthur home he blurted, 'ARTHUR'S A VAMPIRE!' in the middle of dinner."
"And how did you react?" Gwen asked.
Hunith quickly wiped away the scraps of cookie dough and sprinkles. "I've known Gaius since I was a little girl. He's my great, great, great…Well, you get the point—he's my uncle. My whole family has kept the vampires secret. I was always meaning to tell Merlin when I thought he was old enough, but he went off to school, and there was never a good time to tell him." When she was done and checked the oven timer, she joined them back in the living room. "Imagine if I didn't? What a situation that would be," she chuckled to herself.
After dinner, Hunith showed Gwen the photo albums, much to Merlin's embarrassment. Gwen let out an aw at the adorable picture of a little Merlin dressed as King Henry VIII. His class had a project to present on the kings and queens of England. His beard was cut out of construction paper, and his costume was stuffed to the point that he was spherical.
"Henry was quite fit in his youth," Gwen said and Arthur snorted.
"You knew Henry VIII?" Merlin's eyes were wide. "You never said!"
Hunith laughed. "If only you were around when Merlin was in school. He couldn't remember the names of his wives for the life of him."
"There were too many Catherines!"
"There were only three," Arthur said nonchalantly.
"Three too many!" Merlin argued.
The argument went on for several minutes until Gwen spotted an acoustic guitar in the corner and asked Hunith if she played.
"I got it from an old neighbor who was moving. Her arthritis was pretty bad, and she couldn't really play anymore, so she gave it to me. I thought about learning how to play, but I haven't got around to it. Do you play?" Hunith said as she retrieved the guitar.
Gwen nodded. "May I?" Hunith handed it to Gwen, and she plucked the strings and tuned it.
"When did you learn to play?" she heard Arthur ask her as she concentrated on the instrument.
"Haight-Ashbury, 1967," she said, then tilted her head to the side. "Or was it '68?"
"You don't strike me as a hippie, Gwen," Merlin said eagerly, wanting to know more.
"I wasn't. Morgana…she was into all of that. I needed something to do while she had her…fun." Gwen hated being in San Francisco during that era. The Summer of Love, flower power, the drugs—she hated it. Especially the drugs. The first time she drank from a hippie on acid, not only did she vomit, but she thought she was expelling rainbows. Another one she drank from was so stoned, his blood tasted like cotton and her whole body seemed to shut down. The tainted blood would send her into a feeding frenzy. She needed to cleanse her system, and it usually resulted in her hunting down the most conservative people, usually mothers (given away by their disapproving looks at the hippies) that passed her on the street. With her senses heightened astronomically from the bloodlust, she could smell their clean blood and underlying scent of household cleaners a mile away.
Gwen caught Arthur smirking at her. "What?"
"You wore flowers in your hair, though, didn't you?" he said.
She smiled smugly back at him. "I do believe I was doing it a long before that." They shared a look as they both thought of the happier times.
She turned her attention back to the guitar and began to strum "I'll Be Home for Christmas" and hummed along. Merlin picked up on it and began to sing. Gwen smiled and sang along. Arthur and Hunith sat in admiration as they watched the most important people n their lives sing in harmony.
The guest bedroom was warm and cozy. The sleeping situation hadn't occurred to Gwen until that very moment they entered the room. Staring at the bed, she tried to hide her nerves. "Still sleep on the left?"
Arthur gave her a small smile.
They settled in the bed on their respected sides. Eighty years ago they would've been wrapped around each other within minutes. Arthur would've pulled her to his side or he'd find his way to hers. More often than not, they'd end up in the middle. The heavy silence weighed on both of them as they lay on their backs staring at the ceiling like to strangers sharing a bed, or an old married couple.
Arthur brought up Gwen's previous comment about Henry's physique, breaking the silence. "So, you thought Henry was fit?"
"But his attitude made him extremely unattractive," she said casually.
"Our time in Henry's court wasn't the best time for us, was it?" Arthur asked quietly.
"Not as bad as now," Gwen answered.
Arthur, Gwen, and Morgana, arrived in King Henry VIII's court to collect a debt. One of the many ways they kept their riches was to loan money to crown. The return payments have been few and far between, so Uther sent them to London to stay at court until the debt was paid. The Pendragons always supported the royal family, who never knew it was just the four of them and not multiple generations. When Henry held a feast for them in honor of their arrival, he called them the crown's greatest supporters.
The feast started with a theatrical, provocative, sensual dance with masks and light clothing. It was borderline scandalous. The Pendragons watched with the king and queen at the head table. After the rest of the court joined in, the dancing changed to more courtly routines and the wine flowed. Gwen had a delightful conversation with Queen Catherine of Aragon while the king spoke with Arthur and Morgana.
Queen Catherine's eyes occasionally drifted to her husband, and when they settled for longer than her previous glances, Gwen followed her gaze. "Lady Morgana is your mistress, and Lord Arthur is your husband. I am surprised their father would allow you two to marry," Catherine said, curious.
Gwen didn't have a problem with lying, they made up many tales about their lives for nearly a thousand years, but Gwen never felt comfortable with lying about her background. She didn't want to be Lady Guinevere Leodegrance from some great family. She just wanted to be Gwen, daughter of Tom the blacksmith; "wife" of Arthur and companion to Morgana.
"He fought to be with me," she said observing the Queen. She stood tall and regal, her black hair flowing straight down and golden crown contrasting on top.
"Your mistress, she is very beautiful." Catherine's eyes were very sad. Gwen looked back to the king and the Pendragon siblings. Henry's eyes lingered lustfully on Morgana.
"Your daughter," Gwen said out of the blue, pulling Catherine's attention away from her worry. "I would very much like to meet her."
To that, Catherine smiled.
Gwen returned to the chambers she shared with Arthur after helping Morgana settle in. She found Arthur already reclined in the tub in front of the fireplace, his arms draped lazily over the sides, and his head back with a warm cloth covering his face. Illuminated by the flames, his skin glowed warmly and the steam rose invitingly.
She bit her lip, aroused by the sight, and slipped out of her gown and shift. As she stepped into the tub and straddled him, Arthur's lips curved into a pleased smile.
"I knew I heard the sound of silk hitting the floor," he said, not bothering to move anything but his mouth.
Gwen took the cloth from his face so he could see her pout. "You started without me."
He chuckled and leaned forward to peck her on the lips. "You took too long."
She felt his lower half stir against her, and brought her hands to his shoulders and raised herself, supporting her weight on her knees. "This court…" she said lowly bringing her face close to his.
"What about this court?" Arthur asked bright-eyed and grinning, waiting for her to continue.
She moved closer. "There's something about it."
He held eye contact while his hands trailed down her back, to her hips and under the water, teasing her. "Oh really?"
"Mmm. There's something about it," she repeated, brushing her nose with his before bringing her lips a hair's breadth away. Her grip on his shoulders tightened and her breathing quickened as he stroked her. "Something…erotic," she said in a husky whisper, and then gasped in pleasure as Arthur slid into her and claimed her lips hungrily.
It was several months into their stay when things began to change. Arthur had to leave for nearly four weeks to return to France where his father was staying to work with the vampire king of France and their Authority and required Arthur's assistance.
There was a flutter in Gwen's chest; she felt Arthur coming down the hall. He said he wanted to surprise her when he returned, but his projected excitement alerted her.
Just as she rounded the changing screen, Arthur came through the door. They made their way to each other in haste, but Gwen stopped short.
"What is it? What's wrong?" Arthur asked, worried.
He'd grown a beard. He always shaved before the stubble grew thick. She made him. The last time she saw him with a beard, they were staying with the Viking vampires in Sweden. His hair grew longer, and he blended right in with them. "It's freezing," he'd complain as his hair grew out. She couldn't take it, and made him shave. "Never again," she ordered.
"What is that?" She stared intently at the dark blond hair on his chin.
Arthur nervously laughed. "A hello would've sufficed."
He tried to kiss her but she pushed him away. "Not while that is on your face."
"You don't think it makes me look kingly?" He smirked and stroked the beard until she glared at him. Defeated, Arthur changed out of his travel clothes and prepared to shave. Gwen could make out the pout behind the facial hair. She giggled and sat him down. "Here, let me."
She spread the lather over the offending hair, and Arthur gave a jolt. "Cold!"
"You can feel it through that…boar's hair."
"Boar's hair?!"
Gwen pulled out the razor and gave him a teasing smile, waving the blade around. "Now, no more sudden movements."
When she was done, she wiped away the remains of the shaving cream and plopped herself in Arthur's lap. "There, that's better." She kissed his neck and along his smooth jaw, and when she reached his lips, he was about to meet her when a sudden mental tug pulled her back.
"Morgana need's me," she said. Arthur grumbled as he slid off his lap. She righted her skirts and gave him an apologetic smile. "I'll make it up to you."
Morgana wasn't summoning Gwen from her chambers. She followed the call to an unfamiliar part of the castle. The tapestries became more luxurious, and the halls wider as she went further. She also passed more guards. The pull got stronger when she saw a door at the end of the hall. Two guards stopped her before she got closer.
"What is your business in the king's quarters," one of the guards said.
Gwen closed her eyes and silently cursed. When she opened them, she held both their gazes, looking back and forth between them with equal intent. "I've been summoned. You will let me through."
Compelled, both guards nodded in a daze and let her pass. She knocked on the door and heard Morgana say "Come in. Hurry!"
When she reached the bedchamber, the first thing she saw was Morgana struggling the tie her corset from the back. Then she saw movement to her left. The king was dressed only in his sleeping shorts and on his knees in the middle of the bed. He was staring pleadingly at Morgana.
Gwen quickly looked away. "Your majesty," she curtsied. When she stood straight, she rushed to Morgana to help her dress. "What happened," she harshly whispered.
"He proposed," Morgana whispered back over her shoulder.
"What?"
Henry crawled to the end of the bed to be closer to them. "My love!" he said to Morgana. "I don't know why you bother getting dressed, when I'm just going to—"
"Your majesty!" Morgana interrupted."I cannot be your queen."
"Oh, but you can. And you will bear me beautiful sons!" He reached out a hand to her.
Gwen tightened Morgana's corset a little harder than necessary and Morgana gave a small oof before she loosened it. When she finished, Morgana turned around.
"During…you know…we were making eye contact, and I may have said 'make me your queen' or something along those lines," she sheepishly admitted.
"And why haven't you…" Gwen waved her hands around looking for the right word. "Uncompelled him," she settled on.
"I did!"
"Did you mean it?"
Morgana was silent, trying to formulate an excuse. "I tried! I swear! But imagine—Me, Queen of England. The thought kept echoing in my mind. I couldn't help it."
Gwen took a deep breath and turned to the king. "Your majesty," Gwen said firmly looking down at Henry. As he looked up at her, his eyes glazed over."You cannot make the Lady Morgana your queen."
"No?" he pouted, and Gwen thought he and Arthur should have a pouting contest. Who's the biggest baby: the King of England or the thousand year old Prince of Camelot?
"No. You have a queen already."
"Oh, right, Catherine," Henry said dully.
"You will not forget your time with Lady Morgana, but it cannot happen again," she finished. Henry nodded heavily, having no real control over the motion.
Gwen shut the door behind them, and Morgana looped their arms. "Thank you for getting me out of that."
Gwen smiled at her maker. "If it's any consolation, I think you would make a wonderful queen," she said, masking her disappointment in Morgana. They walked down the corridor. The guards ignored them, compelled to forget they were there. "Don't worry, I won't tell Arthur." Or Catherine. She'd grown quite close to the queen. She wished she could compel Henry into loving Catherine, but that wouldn't be fair to the queen. She deserved better.
Morgana thanked her again. "Henry's face, though!" They burst out laughing. The early risers gave the lady and her companion looks which they ignored.
Gwen always found it hard to hate because she always tried to see the good in everyone, but she hated King Henry and Anne Boleyn. Anne's seduction and Henry's infatuation caused the chaotic battle to annul his marriage to Catherine and her and Mary's exile.
Gwen wanted to support the exiled queen as she fought back against Henry and the annulment, but couldn't because it would risk the Pendragon's relationship with the royal family, and whoever supported Catherine ended up in the tower. She detested the way Henry treated Catherine and Mary, especially when he separated them. When Catherine was on her death bed, Gwen couldn't take it. She snuck away in the night and brought Mary to her, so Catherine could spend her final moments with her daughter. Catherine wasted her last breaths dictating a letter to Henry, a letter Gwen delivered it to the king personally.
"Queen Catherine is dead, your majesty," Gwen said coldly and handed him the letter. She didn't wait for his reaction and walked away without being dismissed. She heard him crying, but she was unsure if it was out of genuine grief or relief.
The delight on Anne Boleyn's face was painfully obvious.
Gwen knew there would be consequence for seeing Catherine and Mary, and most of all calling Catherine queen, but she had not anticipated Arthur's reaction. He stormed into their chambers after speaking with Henry. He shouted at her.
"Are you out of your mind? Going against the king is treason. He could have you killed!" A broken neck from the gallows is a quick fix, decapitation—a little difficult to come back from.
"She was my friend, Arthur! And how could he separate mother and child? His child! Did you know he threatened Mary with death! He would dote on Mary before Anne Boleyn came. And how—how could he not allow Catherine to see her own daughter before she died?" Gwen said passionately. "What kind of man threatens his own child's life? All this because he wanted to marry that whore! And just wait until he pulls the same thing on her when she doesn't bare him a son and grows tired of her."
"You don't understand—"
"I don't understand? I have been with you for a thousand years, and I don't understand the ways of monarchs?!" Gwen was hysterical.
Arthur came closer trying to reason with her. "That's not what I meant—"
Crack!
Gwen smacked him hard across the cheek, and Arthur's head whipped to the side. He could've stopped her, she knew, even if she didn't know she was going to hit him until it happened. Because he let her do it. It happened so quick, but when her hand slid across her his cheek, her nails scratched him, and three horizontal lines dripped blood down his cheek.
When Arthur turned his head back to her, the wound was already beginning to heal. He didn't look at her in shock or anger, only concern. When he tried to get close to her again, she pushed him back. "No!" she screamed.
He tried again. "Guinevere—"
She tried shoving him again, but he caught her arm and pulled her to him and enveloped her in his arms. She pounded against his chest, sobbing.
"We can't get involved in their politics. It's not our business," he said quietly in her ear. "We need to let the humans make their own choices, mistakes." He sounded weary. "I know you loved Catherine, but…" he struggled with his words. "Christ, Guinevere. Henry was furious. I had to compel him to calm down. And his threats against you—I almost committed treason."
Gwen had stopped struggling as she listened to him. She wanted to save Catherine, heal her even if it meant revealing herself. She wanted to give her more time with Mary. "She didn't deserve this. Mary didn't deserve this," she murmured. Henry didn't deserve Catherine's love. She felt Arthur kiss the top of her head and hold her tighter.
Anne Boleyn announced she was pregnant after Catherine's death. It was her third pregnancy. Her second one ended in a miscarriage. She was being extra careful physically, but mentally, she was very paranoid, going crazy thinking about Henry's possible affairs. She called Morgana and Gwen to join her for lunch one afternoon. They both knew she was sifting through the ladies in court, trying to find Henry's mistress.
Anne sat back straight in her chair with her hands resting on her swelling stomach. "And when will you marry, Lady Morgana? Surely you have suitors lined up," she said, her eyes calculating, unknown to her that Morgana already had her way with Henry.
"My dear father doesn't think anyone is good enough for his little princess," Morgana lied through her teeth.
They gave each other false smiles. Then Anne asked Gwen, "And when do you think you will provide Lord Arthur with an heir?" She rubbed her stomach to emphasize her question.
Gwen and Morgana shared a look before Gwen addressed her. "I can't have children," she said frankly. Procreation was a sacrifice for the gift of immortality. They could grant new life, not create it.
"Pity," was all Anne said, her tone flat and unsympathetic, and her eyes judging.
A week later, Anne suffered another miscarriage after catching Henry in a passionate embrace with her lady-in-waiting, Jane Seymour.
Gwen brushed her hair at the vanity absentmindedly, and Arthur watched her from the bed.
"Guinevere."
"Hmm?"
"What's wrong?"
She abandoned the brushing and joined him, curling into his side. "Have you ever wondered what your life would've been like if you were human? What your princess would've looked like? Your heir?" In all their time together, she's never thought to ask him.
"No," he said quickly without thinking.
Gwen looked up at him and he tucked a strand behind her ear. "No?"
"Being vampire is the best thing to have happened to me because I found you," he said caressing her cheek. "As lovely as the thought is of having a child with my good looks and your grace and wisdom, I wouldn't ask for my life to be any different."
She could've married the baker's son who fancied her. She could've bore his children and lived a humble life. She could've grown old with her baker husband and watched her children build families of their own. Or she could've died of illness, or from childbirth, watch one of her children be claimed before their time. What if Arthur hadn't found her? What if they didn't fall in love? If she didn't turn?
"Do you ever regret leaving your human life behind?" he asked her.
"Never." She rolled on her back and rested a hand on her flat stomach. "It's just childbearing…it's such a big part of life, of being a woman. The queen said it was a pity that I couldn't conceive."
Arthur sighed. "That's what this is all about? When did you start caring about what she had to say?"
Gwen shut her eyes and inhaled. Anne Boleyn's stony face stared back at her, thin lips in a permanent sneer. Her mouth doesn't move, but she could hear the pity. Gwen exhaled, opened her eyes, and her fingers spread over her abdomen. "She made me feel…less like a woman."
Arthur covered Gwen's hand with his and slid it down her stomach to between her thighs. Gwen arched into the touch as their fingers pressed through her nightdress. "You feel very much like a woman to me," Arthur said cheekily. He pulled his hand away and rolled on top of her, supporting his weight on his arms so he didn't crush her.
She wrapped her arms around his neck pulling him down wanting to feel him against her. "I just want to give you everything," she muttered into his neck.
"All I need is you, my Guinevere."
The long lost sound of Arthur's snoring woke Gwen. She turned on her other side and watched his chest rise and fall. She wanted to lay her head on him, wrap herself around him as their breathing falls in sync.
Gwen slipped out of the bed instead and found Hunith in the living room. "Join me," Hunith said patting the couch. "I'm surprised you didn't come out sooner. Arthur's been going at it for a while. The first time he was here, I was shocked awake. It sounded like…"
"A pig had gotten in," Gwen finished for her.
"Yes! Exactly!"
Gwen settled on the other corner of the couch, and pulled her knees up to her chest. "I got used to it after the first hundred years."
"To be with one person for so long is incredible," Hunith commended. "But fifteen hundred years…"
They had filled Hunith in on their story, and Gwen had once again skipped over the grisly details of the last eighty years. Would Hunith look at her differently if she knew what she had done? She had only told Arthur about tearing out the dancer's heart. And that was only scratching the surface.
Hunith looked at Gwen with concern. "What is it child? Oh goodness me, calling you child when your older than me."
Gwen wanted to laugh. She tried to offer a smile but tears only welled in her eyes. "I've done horrible things. I don't think I can be who I used to be," she blurted out.
Hunith seemed unfazed. "Has he said anything?"
"He keeps telling me that everything will be okay, that he will stay with me, love me, no matter what. But what I've done…it's changed me. What if I can't be that girl he fell in love with?" Gwen asked worriedly.
"You mustn't worry so much, Gwen," Hunith said giving her a reassuring smile. The lamp light highlighted her wise and kind eyes. "You didn't stay a humble serving girl for a millennium, did you?"
Gwen shook her head, frowning.
"Right," Hunith nodded. "Because you've changed with the times, and so has Arthur, I presume. And no matter how your opinions or manners changed, your love for each other never wavered. I bet there's nothing you could do or say that would make Arthur love you less. And once you can free yourself of your doubts, you'll be able to love again with all your heart."
Gwen was overwhelmed by the advice. Hunith moved closer to Gwen and wrapped her in her arms, humming a tune. "My mother would do the same when I was upset. It's one of the few things I remember about her." Gwen murmured, gripping at the ring hanging from her neck with her index finger partially through it. "What's it like being a mother?"
"It's like a reward," Hunith said simply.
"What happened to Merlin's father, if you don't mind me asking?" She heard Hunith's heart rate increase, and she regretted asking, but Hunith answered.
"He was killed by vampires. I never told Merlin."
Gwen stiffened in the woman's arms. "It's okay," Hunith told her. "I don't hate all vampires, obviously. And I know that even if they have done things they are ashamed of, whether it's their fault or not, they can still love and be loved."
The snoring had stopped when Gwen finally returned to the room, and Arthur was lying on his side facing her. She watched him and how innocent he looked. When her eyes fell closed, and she was back in Henry's court.
Gwen liked Jane Seymour, and was surprised by Henry's change in demeanor. She was good for him. It didn't last long though, as giving birth had claimed her life. Henry mourned and married again. Poor Anne of Cleves, a victim of Henry's vanity. Gwen thought she was lovely, too.
Another Christmas feast came, and Gwen stared at Henry on the throne.
"You've never had a wandering eye, my love. Should I be worried?" Arthur asked.
Gwen turned back to him and whispered in his ear. "The king is going grey."
Age was catching up. They had to leave soon. Thankfully the debt had been paid off. Their life was a constant move; disappear when those around you grew old. Return when a new generation takes over.
Gwen's last memory of Henry's court was passing Charles Brandon, the king's best friend, escorting a young Catherine Howard. "Your grace," Gwen greeted him. She looked from him to Catherine Howard. They were headed in the direction of the King's chambers. Brandon's face practically read, "She's for the king" She shook her head and walked on.
Arthur, Gwen, and Morgana went to an old manor they had in Wales to recover from the lifestyle of Henry's court, and took their time planning their next move. They heard of Catherine Howard's execution and Henry's final marriage to Catherine of Parr, and left it at that. Just thinking about court brought on a headache. Leaving was a well deserved break for Arthur. The time he spent on Henry's council wore him out. "I know I was stubborn as a prince in a time different than this, but I would make a better king than Henry," Arthur said. If it wasn't for having to get up to drink blood, Arthur probably would've slept for a century. Either way, Gwen would be by his side when he woke.
When they started sharing a bed, Gwen noticed something interesting about Arthur's sleeping positions. He snored only on his back and when on his side, he'd face away from the window. But if the window was on the right side of the bed, he would not turn away, but instead, he'd bury his face into her neck and curls and use her as a shield from the encroaching sunlight.
Just like he was doing now.
If this had happened before she spoke to Hunith, she would've thought to ease Arthur back to his side of the bed, or wiggle out of his hold and go back to the living room. But now she surrounded herself in the comfort of that familiar weight on her side and fell back to sleep. This time, it was dreamless.
On the anniversary of their separation, Arthur suffered from a variation of the same nightmare: Eighty different ways Gwen could be taken from him. That night, he anticipated the eighty first scenario, but it never came. Instead, he woke to the sound of birds chirping and sun creeping through curtains. He groaned and buried his head into his pillow. He crinkled his nose and sniffed. His pillow tickled and smelled of lavender. It was Gwen.
Just because Arthur preferred to sleep on the left, didn't mean he stayed there. In Gwen's absence, his migration to the right side increased, subconsciously hoping he'd wake up with his arms around her. He'd say it was like Christmas if it wasn't actually Christmas. Resisting the urge to snuggle back up to her, Arthur got up and quietly got ready for the day. When he came out of the en suite, Gwen was pulling a change of clothes out of her suitcase. "All yours," he said and shifted uncomfortably under the look she was giving him. He would understand if he was standing naked in front of her, but he was fully dressed.
"I don't think I'll ever get use to you waking up before me," Gwen said.
He relaxed. "Well, maybe one day things will get back to normal."
"One day," she smiled at him before frowning down at her suitcase.
"Guinevere?"
"This was sort of my…emergency bag…" she trailed off.
Her toiletries where travel sized and her clothes were simple. Even though the last time he saw her, the clothing was of a different era, he knew she had an eye for fashion, especially now, judging by the clothes she was wearing the night she returned. He saw her throw away those clothes and shoes. He didn't ask questions, but they smelled faintly of blood. "If you need more things, I can give you my card—"
"I'm not taking your money," Gwen declined. Arthur knew she would. She never liked taking what she could work for.
"Well you plan on working for the Authority again, am I right?" he asked and she nodded. "Well consider this payment in advance," he reasoned.
She looked at the plain clothing again with disinterest. She gave in.
Gwaine's pub, like many vampire-owned establishments, it was hidden in plain sight and overlooked by humans. On the outside, it looked like an old flat on the outside with peeling paint and shutters, but on the inside it was a refurbished pub.
"So Elyan, Gwen's your sister?" Lance asked casually. Now he knew why she was reluctant to tell him her age. She was more than a millennium older than him. "You said 'you found her.' What did that mean?"
Gwaine joined the table, letting Gilli take over the bar. "Didn't you know she was with Morgana?"
Elyan, Percival, and Leon looked at each other. At the Authority, they only discussed Morgana's organized attack. At that time, it seemed the more important to discuss the present than the last eighty years. "I guess we should start from the beginning." Elyan told the story.
"They had a fifteen hundred year long blood bond," Lance said, astonished and disgusted by what Morgana did to break it. When Gwen introduced them in Paris, he wouldn't have suspected.
"No wonder she never batted an eyelash at me," said Gwaine. "It also explains why the princess gets moodier than usual around the holiday." Suddenly Gwaine did a full body shake.
They looked at him confused. "Are you alright, mate?" Percival asked.
Gwaine's face contorted in disgust. "Morgana's…touched me…"
"It didn't seem to bother you earlier," Leon said.
"Yeah, but that was before I knew the full story," Gwaine's face looked more pained the more he thought about it. "I feel dirty."
Elyan, Lance, Leon, and Percival laughed at Gwaine's turmoil and enjoyed their drinks until a commotion broke out.
"…ires are the supreme being…!"
"…umans will bow down…!"
"…gana promises this…!"
They saw a skeevey looking vampire riling up the others. What he was preaching was getting mixed reactions, but the fact that some where agreeing was unsettling. Gwaine muttered a curse and marched up to the preaching vampire, pulled him up by the collar and slammed his head into the table knocking him out. "Not in my bar," Gwaine said eerily calm.
He looked around the room. The patrons settled down, the ones that may have been agreeing were extremely quiet, probably second guessing their decision to cheer. "Anyone else got something to say?" Gwaine challenged. Elyan, Percival, Lance, and Leon stood firmly behind him.
"I think he was full of shite," an old vampire said from the corner and went back to his drink.
Gwaine pulled out his phone. "We've got a situation."
Christmas morning at Hunith's was always the same, but always enjoyable. Hunith insisted they don't exchange gifts because them being there was enough. The first Christmas morning, the boys tried helping her make Christmas-themed pancakes, and after a near disaster, she banished them from the stove forever.
Gwen, on the other hand, was trusted at the stove. Arthur watched as she tried to salvage the wonky shape of what was supposed to be a gingerbread man. When she flipped it, the leg fell off and she collapsed in a fit of giggles.
After their breakfast of headless snowmen, amputated gingerbread men, and burnt Christmas trees, they played Christmas-themed Scrabble. In the middle of the game, Arthur excused himself from the table when his phone rang.
"All work and no play makes Arthur a dull vamp," Merlin jeered. Then he gave a theatrical sigh and pouted at the board. "It's your turn, too. Now we have to wait." He was anxiously eyeing a triple word spot, praying Arthur didn't take the space.
Fifteen minutes passed and Arthur was still on the phone. Gwen tried listening in. He was talking in a quick, hushed tone. She heard, "Hold him," and "I'll be there." When he finally returned, he looked at her with a grim face.
"Guinevere, have you heard of a vampire named Trickler."
A/N: Sooooo in my head, the drama in Henry's court was supposed to be more dramatic, but it all went to mush. Sorry if it threw anyone off. The next chapter will make more sense, I promise!
And I know Merlin just seems like a comic-relief right now, but his time will come soon.
And there will be no supernatural pregnancy. Gwen is not going to magically conceive a child. Not happening. Nope.
THANKS ALWAYS for reading and reviewing!