"I love you without knowing how, or when, or from where. I love you simply, without problems or pride: I love you in this way because I do not know any other way of loving but this, in which there is no I or you, so intimate that your hand upon my chest is my hand, so intimate then when I fall asleep your eyes close." -Pablo Neruda, 100 Love Sonnets
Dear Don Santiago,
I bring you warm greetings of friendship from the kingdom of Camelot. However, I wish I were writing to you under happier circumstances.
It is my understanding that your son, Sir Lancelot of Aragon, has fled your homeland and has been missing for some time. I am writing to inform you that I am currently holding your son in my dungeon. He is being detained for making inappropriate advances on my wife, Queen Guinevere, and when she spurned his advances, he attempted to take her by force. Thankfully, he did not succeed.
As I am sure you are aware, this is an act of treason. My wife has asked me to spare his life – a request with which I have complied for her sake, not your son's – but I will not banish him from the kingdom because that would only allow him to continue his unsavory activities elsewhere. And as it is not my wish to indefinitely keep him as a prisoner in my dungeon, I turn to you, Don Santiago, and extend you an invitation to Camelot so that you may come and retrieve your errant son.
What you choose to do with him once you have him is your business alone.
Our gates are always open to your retinue.
Respectfully,
King Arthur of Camelot
xXx
Several weeks have passed since Arthur sent the letter to Aragon. He does not know if Don Santiago will send a message back or if someone will simply show up one day, but each day that Lancelot is allowed to languish in the dungeon is a day too long. Arthur hasn't been to see him and hears no reports on his behavior or health, but the knowledge that he is down there is enough to irk him.
Thankfully, the queen's birthday feast proves to be a festive diversion for a couple of days. Elyan made the journey, but King Thomas was down with an illness and could not attend. He sent a gift with his son: the gold circlet that Guinevere's mother often wore. Queen Eleanor had it set aside to pass to her daughter on her eighteenth birthday, and Thomas honored that wish.
Arthur gifted her two books about flowers since she seemed to enjoy reading about them, and a necklace made of silver and small amethyst stones fashioned to resemble lavender flowers.
"You pay attention," she had said, smiling at him. Lavender is one of her favorites, and apparently her husband took note.
"I may be indifferent towards flowers, but I am definitely not indifferent towards you, my love," he replied, kissing her. "I am very glad you like it."
"I love it," she answered. "And I love you."
xXx
Another week passes, marking a full month since Arthur sent his letter to Don Santiago. Agravaine and Morgana have arrived in Camelot for the first time since then as well. They of course know what happened, and Morgana immediately seeks out Guinevere.
"Gwaine told me everything," she says, finding the queen just inside. "He feels terrible about letting it happen."
Guinevere takes Morgana's arm and leads her into an empty room so they may speak privately and freely. "I know. It is not his fault. I keep telling him so. Arthur, too. They both feel responsible, but the blame lies solely with Lancelot."
"Gwaine is conflicted. He wishes he would have left Lancelot so that he would not have wound up here, but he knows that if he had, there's no telling how many lives he would have ruined." Morgana pauses. "Well, at least until some poor girl's angry father caught him," she ruefully adds.
"Gwaine seems like such a champion of justice and is rather protective of not only me, but women in general," Guinevere says, and Morgana nods her agreement. "A small part of me wonders why he didn't kill Lancelot for his acts."
"Just between you and me, I have wondered the same thing," Morgana replies. She takes Guinevere's hand. "But you're truly well? He did not harm you? Did not…" she trails off, leaving the question unasked.
"I am fine," Guinevere answers. "He did not violate me."
"Good," Morgana decisively states. "I wanted to ask you myself, woman to woman, in case you did not feel comfortable telling Arthur or Gaius."
"Thank you for your concern," Guinevere says. "And if Lancelot had, I would have told Arthur. We have no secrets."
Morgana smiles. "You love him," she realizes.
Guinevere looks down, her cheeks flushing. "And he loves me."
Her eyes widen. "He told you this?" she asks.
Guinevere nods and proceeds to tell her how it transpired. Morgana is very impressed that Guinevere said it first, even if it was accidental and Arthur didn't really hear it at the time. She exuberantly hugs her cousin.
"Morgana, may I ask you something… delicate?" Guinevere asks, biting her lower lip.
"Ooo, this sounds like it's going to be good," Morgana replies, leaning forward.
"Oh dear," Guinevere sighs. "How do I ask this? I don't want to presume anything…"
"I am a virgin," Morgana volunteers, having a pretty good idea about the nature of Guinevere's question. "But I've done a few things, and I've heard a lot of things."
"Well," Guinevere starts, keeping her eyes on the ground, "Arthur has done something for me… in our marriage bed… several times. He um… uses his mouth between my legs." She whispers the last part.
"From what I understand, that feels very nice," Morgana says, a little impressed.
Guinevere glances up. "Oh, it does," she says, biting back her grin. She drops her gaze again and asks, "Is there a way I can do something like that for him?"
"Ohhh," Morgana says, drawing it out as realization dawns. "Yes, there is. I have heard the maids talking about it. And the men, for that matter, though they didn't know I was listening." She grins. "From what I've heard…"
xXx
"Uncle, a word," Arthur says, breezing past Agravaine and heading into the great hall. He knows this conversation is overdue, but also knows now is when it needs to happen, since Guinevere and Gwaine finally made their trip to the marketplace just a few days ago in anticipation of Agravaine and Morgana's arrival.
"Of course," Agravaine says, following him in. A guard shuts the doors, and Arthur's cool demeanor makes the lord slightly uneasy.
"I am placing the blame for Lancelot's attack on Guinevere on your head," Arthur says.
"Me?" Agravaine asks, his eyes widening. "I am blameless."
"It was you who planted the seeds of suspicion in my head. You heard the rumors about Lancelot, but you told me they were about Sir Gwaine," Arthur says. He's been spending some of his time doing a little research of his own.
"I assure you—"
"You tried to sully Gwaine's reputation because you do not like the fact that he and Morgana are fond of one another," Arthur says. "He is of noble birth and has been a knight above reproach in every way. If he wishes to court her, he has every right."
"He is a scoundrel and a cad," Agravaine spits, refusing to acknowledge his wrongdoing.
"He risked his own reputation, even his life, trying to protect Guinevere from Lancelot. I trust him not only with my life, but the queen's." Arthur retorts, his voice rising.
"His reputation states otherwise," Agravaine insists.
"Oh? Then why is it when I wrote to Lord Padraig of Armagh, he gave a glowing recommendation of his son and provided other references that will vouch for Sir Gwaine's character as well?"
"Like whom?" Agravaine demands.
"Caerleon. Turns out he wound up spending some time there because he saved King Caerleon and Queen Annis' granddaughter from a wild boar. They reported that he was nothing but charming and respectful, and wished he had chosen to stay on and join their ranks." Agravaine glowers, and Arthur continues. "Even King Olaf, who doesn't like anyone, could not find anything worse to say than, 'That man is insane.' Sir Gwaine is the type of man who gives respect to those deserving of that consideration, not simply because a person has a title." He pauses, simply for effect, and adds, "Besides, I thought you wanted Morgana to marry."
"Yes, but…"
"Gwaine is a good man. One of the best I've met, and I am proud to have him among my ranks. I suggest you revise your thinking before your small-minded prejudices cause you to lose your only child."
"Yes, Sire," Agravaine replies, not sounding terribly pleased about it.
"I am not speaking as your king," Arthur clarifies. "I am speaking as a man who loves his cousin and wishes to see her happy."
Agravaine nods, thinking they are done. "I understand, Arthur. Thank you." He lightly bows and starts to turn.
"I haven't finished," Arthur says, his voice turning hard again. Agravaine stops. "There is still the matter of your punishment."
"P-punishment?" Agravaine sputters, turning white, then red, then white again.
"Surely you do not think that slander and conspiring to assault the queen are not punishable offenses?" Arthur asks, angling his head.
"N-no, my lord," Agravaine answers. "I just thought—"
"You thought because you were my kin I would turn a blind eye," Arthur finishes. "I'm afraid I cannot do that."
"But—"
Arthur begins to slowly pace. "I am a young king, you see, and there are many eyes on me. If I let you off for this fairly major offense, uncle or no, people will think they can simply walk all over me, and by extension, the kingdom. Camelot will appear weak and ripe for the plucking." He stops and stares hard at his uncle. "Not only that, but I love my wife very much, and the fact that you would stoop to such levels, that you would risk the life of not only your queen, but my wife because of your own selfish pettiness, hurts me deeply. It also makes me unreasonably angry!" His voice has risen to a shout by the end of his speech and Agravaine takes a step back.
"Forgive me, Sire. Arthur," Agravaine quietly says. "I… did not consider all the consequences of my actions."
"Clearly not," Arthur replies, his tone soft but clipped. "Now. It is well within my rights to imprison or banish you. My father has executed men for less, come to think of it." Agravaine's eyes widen, and Arthur continues. "But imprisonment won't have the desired effect, and banishment is too… easy."
"Easy?" Agravaine croaks.
Arthur rocks back on his heels, his hands behind his back. "You are barred from attending Council meetings. For one month." He knows this punishment is a harsh blow to his uncle's pride, which is why he settled on it.
"But—"
"Two months."
Agravaine closes his mouth and nods.
Arthur steps closer and says, "Your punishment is light for Morgana's sake, not yours."
Agravaine swallows hard, his pasty skin now pale and shiny due to the light sheen of sweat now covering it.
"However, I will caution you to mind both your words and your actions, as my patience with you grows increasingly thin," Arthur sharply warns.
"Yes, Sire," Agravaine repeats, looking like he has just swallowed a toad. Arthur brushes past him and out of the hall.
xXx
Gwaine seeks out Agravaine less than an hour later. Arthur's words still fresh in his mind, the lord consents to allowing the knight to court his daughter, albeit a bit grudgingly. He even tells Gwaine he does not like him. To his credit, Gwaine merely huffed a short laugh and said, "I don't like you either, mate, but it ain't you I'm lookin' to marry."
When Morgana came rushing to find Arthur and Guinevere to show them the necklace Gwaine gifted her as an official token of their courtship, Arthur happily declared that they would have a festive dinner tonight to celebrate, and immediately dispatched Merlin to the kitchens.
They didn't tell Morgana that they already knew Gwaine's intentions and had started preparations for this dinner the day before.
"I am so happy for you," Guinevere says to Morgana, hugging her. "I have gotten to know Sir Gwaine quite well and can say that not only is he an excellent knight, but he is also a good man."
"Oh, I know," Morgana replies, grinning.
"Standing right here," Gwaine comments, chuckling. "You're going to give me a big head."
"He doesn't need any help in that department," Arthur remarks. Gwaine laughs, and Arthur clasps arms with him and congratulates him. "Hurt her and I'll break your neck," he says, a smile pasted on his face.
"Wouldn't dream of it, mate," Gwaine replies. He knows the king is quite serious, but his reply is just as sincere.
They chat for a few minutes, Morgana confessing that she would like to stay in Camelot after she and Gwaine wed ("I need a break from Father," she groaned). Then Merlin comes bursting back into the royal chambers, breathing hard.
"My lord… Don Santiago…" he huffs.
"He's here?" Arthur's eyebrows rise in surprise. "Now?"
"His party has been spotted just outside the town," Merlin says, his breathing gradually slowing to normal. "Sir Bedivere spotted the red and gold striped banners."
"That's them," Gwaine confirms.
"How many?" Arthur asks.
"Six. Looked like he brought his wife and maybe a son. And three knights," Merlin answers.
"We have enough food for three more for dinner?" Arthur asks.
"I think so," Merlin replies.
"Make it happen," Arthur commands.
"My lord," Merlin nods and disappears.
Arthur looks over at Guinevere. Sefa is already helping her into her cloak. "We must greet them," she says.
"Morgana, Gwaine, if you will excuse us," Arthur says, holding his hand out for his wife.
xXx
The party from Aragon enters the courtyard on fine Spanish horses, looking resplendent and proud in their kingdom's colors of red and gold.
Don Santiago is straight-backed and handsome, his dark hair flecked with distinguished touches of gray. He has a neatly-trimmed beard and dark, piercing eyes. Lancelot has the same eyes. His wife is petite and beautiful, with shiny black hair and tan skin that is only touched by a few wrinkles. The third person is a very handsome young man who appears to be a younger version of Don Santiago, so Arthur and Guinevere decide that he most definitely must be one of their sons.
"Probably his eldest," Arthur quietly observes as they step forward.
"She is beautiful," Guinevere comments, noting the doña's long, dark lashes and high cheekbones.
"Don Santiago, I presume," Arthur greets once they are close enough. "Welcome to Camelot."
Don Santiago nods and dismounts. "Thank you. I apologize for our unannounced arrival," he says, his voice bearing only a very slight accent. "There was no time to send a messenger."
"Completely understandable," Arthur replies, extending his hand as the son assists his mother down from her mare.
Don Santiago grasps Arthur's hand in greeting. "My wife, Doña Estela, and my son, Santiago II," he introduces.
The doña curtseys and Arthur kisses her hand. "I am honored to meet you, my lady," he says. She gives him a charming smile, then he shakes the younger Santiago's hand. "Sir," he greets.
"My lord," he replies. "Please, call me Tiago. It helps avoid confusion."
Arthur nods, smiling. "Allow me to present my wife, Queen Guinevere," Arthur introduces, placing his hand on the small of her back as she steps forward.
"I am very pleased to meet you," Guinevere says.
Santiago steps forward and holds out his hand. Guinevere places hers in it, and he kneels before her, gently kissing her hand. "Please accept my humble apologies for my son's inexcusable behavior," he says. "We are extremely embarrassed by his actions and beg your forgiveness."
"Thank you, Don Santiago," a shocked but composed Guinevere answers. "I accept your apology. Please rise."
He kisses her hand once more, then stands. "Estela," he says.
Doña Estela curtseys to Guinevere, and the queen holds out her hand. Estela places her hand in it and Guinevere clasps it warmly between both of hers. She hasn't heard the doña speak yet, so isn't certain if she can understand her, but she says, "Welcome to Camelot, Doña Estela."
Estela quietly replies, "Thank you, my lady. Please accept my apology as well for my son's terrible actions." Her accent is much stronger than Santiago's, but they can easily understand her.
"Of course," Guinevere answers, releasing her hand. "I hope you will find your stay here to your liking, despite the circumstances."
"Your kingdom is beautiful, my lady. The marketplace was quite charming. I hope to visit it before we depart," Estela answers with a smile, finding the queen to be a lovely and polished young woman.
Guinevere returns her smile. "Visiting the marketplace is one of my favorite activities," she says.
Estela's smile broadens, then she steps back to allow her son to step forward. "Mi reina," he says, bowing over Guinevere's hand and kissing it. She tries not to stiffen at the words. The last person to address her as such was Lancelot. "I am…" he pauses, clearly trying to find the right word, "mortified by my brother's actions and wish you to know that he is not… representative of our family."
"I understand," Guinevere replies, thinking of how different Morgana is from Agravaine. And Arthur from Uther. "Thank you, Tiago."
"You have arrived at a fortunate time," Arthur says, escorting them inside while servants follow with their belongings. He waves Sir Leon over to attend their knights. "We will be having a small celebratory dinner this evening. One of my knights has obtained permission from my uncle, Lord Agravaine, to court his daughter, Lady Morgana. We would love for you to join us."
"We cannot impose, especially after arriving unannounced," Santiago says.
"I assure you it is neither an imposition nor inconvenience," Arthur replies. Merlin appears out of nowhere and nods at Arthur. The king returns the gesture and they make their way to the guest rooms that have been hurriedly prepared. Merlin is actually guiding the way since he knows which rooms have been readied, but he does so in a way that makes it look like Arthur is in the lead.
"In that case, we will be honored to join you, but we must insist on contributing," Santiago says, watching the servants as they pass into the room, looking for a particular bag. "Ah." He holds his hand out and a servant passes him the bag. He withdraws some large bottles, three in all. "Wine from our lands," he says. "We brought them as a gift to you."
"Thank you very much," Arthur says, lifting one. "I look forward to sampling it. Merlin."
"Yes, my lord," Merlin replies, lifting two of the bottles. Another servant takes the third and follows him out.
"Your servant is very efficient," Tiago observes, stepping in from his room across the corridor. "You do not even need to give him an order, and he follows it."
"He has been in my service since we were both boys," Arthur explains. "He often knows my needs before I do," he chuckles.
"A fine quality to have in a servant as well as a wife," Santiago replies, nodding at Guinevere. "But surely you have not been married long? You are both very young."
"Less than a year," Arthur says. "I will be 19 after the new year, and my Guinevere has just turned 18."
"Felicidades," Santiago says to Guinevere with a charming smile. "And you seem to have a very stable head on your shoulders for such a young king. We heard about King Uther's untimely passing," he adds, tuning back towards Arthur. "I did not know him or know much about him as a ruler, but his name was respected."
"My only hope as king is to improve upon the things my father did in his rule," Arthur tactfully replies.
Santiago briefly raises an eyebrow, clearly shrewd enough to be able to read between the lines in more than one language. "Indeed," he merely replies.
"I am sure your journey was long and you likely wish to freshen up before dinner," Guinevere says, steering the subject away from Uther.
Estela glances at Santiago, and he nods. "My lady?" Estela says, stepping forward. She has something in her hands.
"Yes, Doña Estela?" Guinevere replies.
"We have brought a gift for you as well," she says. "As a…" she struggles with the words for a moment, "symbol? A token. A token of apology from our house to your kingdom." She holds out a box that is about the same size as her hand.
"Thank you very much," Guinevere accepts the gift. She feels it is somewhat unnecessary, but understands their wish to make amends and will not insult them by refusing their thoughtful gift. She opens the box and sees a simple gold cuff bracelet etched with flowers. "It is beautiful," she says, lifting it from the box.
"The campanula – bellflower – is the symbol of our house," Estela explains.
Guinevere smiles and slips it over her hand and onto her wrist. "It is lovely. I shall treasure it. Thank you very much."
"Guinevere is quite fond of flowers, and is rather knowledgable about them as well," Arthur comments.
"Ah, then our gift is well-suited indeed," Santiago says, clearly pleased.
"It is," Guinevere agrees. She holds her hands out to Estela and the older woman takes them. "Thank you for the thoughtful gift," she says, giving her hands a gentle squeeze.
"It will not erase the dishonor our son has done, but I am very happy you like it," Estela replies.
"I love it," Guinevere says, releasing her hands. "But now we will leave you to rest a bit before dinner," she says. "These servants will attend you, and please do not hesitate to ask for anything you need."
"Thank you," Santiago answers. "I am sure you have matters to which to see as well. Thank you for your hospitality."
"It is our pleasure. Merlin will return and show you to the hall in time for dinner," Arthur replies. They turn to leave, but then he stops, remembering the actual reason for their visit. "Oh, forgive me. Would you like to see Lancelot before dinner?"
Santiago's expression darkens. "He can wait until morning. I will lose my appetite if I see him before what will be a delicious dinner, judging by the appetizing aromas in the air."
"Very well," Arthur responds with a nod before taking Guinevere's hand and exiting.
"Do you think everyone in their country is that beautiful, or is their family just blessed?" Guinevere asks once they are far enough away.
Arthur laughs, then stops walking to hug her. He kisses her forehead, then says, "I love you. Come. We should stop in the kitchens to make certain everything is in order."
"I'm sure Merlin has made all the proper arrangements," Guinevere says.
Arthur stops again. "You're right. Let's go up to our room and have a little rest of our own, shall we?"
xXx
"Forgive my impertinence, Lady Morgana, but how is it you are yet unmarried?" Tiago asks over dinner. "You are very beautiful and most charming. How is Sir Gwaine the first to be lucky enough to win your hand?"
Agravaine sighs. "She has proven—"
"I have simply refused to marry any man unless I approve of him," Morgana states, talking over her father. Still nursing his wounded pride, Agravaine says nothing.
"Is that customary?" Tiago presses.
"Tiago, do not be rude," Santiago admonishes.
"No, no. It's quite all right," Morgana insists. "I love your straightforward manner. It's so refreshing," she says, giving Tiago a winning smile.
"The Lady Morgana is quite deadly with a sword, you see," Arthur volunteers. "Half the noble men in the five kingdoms are afraid of her," he adds with a grin.
No one laughs until Morgana does, and even then, the first to join in is Gwaine. "I do love a woman with spirit," he says.
"Perhaps some friendly sparring should be in order then," Arthur suggests, mainly to irk his uncle, who has regretted letting his daughter train from the moment he finally consented to it.
"Oh, there would be nothing friendly about it, I assure you," Morgana says, lifting her goblet to her smiling lips.
"Mmm, I definitely like the sound of that," Gwaine agrees. Agravaine chokes on his wine.
"Arthur," Santiago chimes in, redirecting the conversation, "your marriage to Queen Guinevere was arranged, yes?"
"Yes," Arthur says. He goes on to explain how it was brokered by their fathers when they were little more than babies.
"Ah, so you have been friends your whole lives," Estela observes. "That must be why you are so in love now."
Guinevere blushes slightly, and Arthur says, "Um, actually, after the agreement was made, my father apparently did not see the need for me to get to know my future wife, so we did not meet or even see each other until we were married. After, technically. The tradition here is for the bride to be veiled with heavy lace until it is time to seal the union with a kiss. I couldn't see her, and she couldn't really see me either."
"I could not see you at all," Guinevere says. "Just your silhouette."
"Really?" Arthur asks, and she nods. "Yeah, we need to do away with that tradition." Guinevere nods again, and Santiago and Estela chuckle.
"You are most fortunate that the match is a good one then," Estela assesses. "We were given time to meet and get to know one another first. To make sure we would be well suited."
"And if not?" Arthur asks.
"No arrangement would be made and our parents would try again," Santiago answers. "We are in the process of trying to match our second son, Pascual."
"I am already married," Tiago volunteers. "My wife, Melisenda, is expecting our first child, and is unable to travel. She is well and there are several months before the baby will arrive, but… she does not get along with ships."
"Ah, I see," Arthur nods, understanding. "That would not be an enjoyable journey for her then."
"Indeed not," Tiago agrees.
As the evening wears on, talk inevitably begins to turn towards Lancelot. Agravaine, perhaps in a last, desperate effort to cast aspersions on his future son-in-law's name, declares that Gwaine spent several weeks in Lancelot's company and was fully aware of his activities.
"Oh?" Santiago asks, looking towards the knight.
"Aye," Gwaine agrees, fully prepared for this topic, as he had a suspicion it would come up at some point. "I did not approve of his… proclivities, but I stayed in his company to make it very difficult for him to act on them."
"I am sorry you had to play nursemaid to our son," Santiago replies. "But thank you for at least trying."
Gwaine nods. "It was my choice to do so. I cannot abide a man forcing himself on a woman. I joined his company because he saved my life, but when I saved his life… from men who I later learned were sent by you – sorry about that, mate – we were square. It was then that I made him tell me why they were after him."
"And he told you?" Estela quietly asks. Clearly she is deeply upset by her son's disgrace.
"I had to threaten him," Gwaine answers with a sigh. "He grudgingly told me." He can still remember looming over Lancelot, his knee pressed into his chest, sword to his throat. Sometimes he regrets not having slit it as soon as he learned the truth.
"And he did not… menace any other women here in Camelot?" Tiago asks.
"No," Gwaine answers. "He was particular, see? He didn't attack just any defenseless woman," he explains. "He is calculating and careful. A hunter. Nay, a predator. He chooses his prey and will not rest until he has her."
"Why did you not deal with him yourself if you were so disgusted by his acts?" Tiago asks. "You could have killed him at any time, I would imagine."
Gwaine purses his lips, trying to decide how to explain. "It was not my justice to dispense. It is important for his punishment to come from people who were directly affected. If he had assaulted my niece, that would be a different story. I don't know if my lack of action was right, wrong, or otherwise, but those are the values with which I have been instilled for as long as I can remember. And since I did not feel it was my place to kill him, I figured the least I could do is stick to him like a limpet on a rock and make it very difficult for him to do any further wrong."
"I can respect that, and I am certain young Susana's family will as well," Santiago replies. "I thank you for your vigilance, Sir Knight," he adds, raising his goblet in salute.
"I normally would answer, 'It was my pleasure,' but it really wasn't, if I am being honest," Gwaine replies, lifting his goblet in kind. "I will admit it is a relief to be free of him. It gives me the freedom to court my lady and give her the consideration and attention she truly deserves," he adds, winking at Morgana.
"So that's why you waited until now to ask," Arthur realizes. Guinevere had told him that Morgana and Gwaine had been smitten with one another since the joust, and she had been wondering why he had not yet made any moves to officially court her.
"Aye," Gwaine answers.
xXx
The next morning, Lancelot's family follows Arthur down to the dungeons to see their son. They plan on staying one more day and will be leaving the next morning.
Guinevere remained in the royal chambers. She does not wish to see him, and Arthur wholeheartedly agreed, saying, "I do not wish for him to see you. He does not deserve to look upon your beautiful face ever again."
As Gwaine accompanied the party to the dungeon, Morgana kept Guinevere company.
Understandably, Doña Estela is the most anxious of the group. Her emotions are in turmoil, and while she knows and understands the fate that awaits Lancelot when they return home, he is still her son.
"Lancelot." Don Santiago's voice is stern, but low. Lancelot, who had been lying on a pallet on the floor, jumps at the sound of his father's voice.
"Papá!" Lancelot exclaims, clamoring clumsily to his feet.
Arthur, hanging in the background, notices the knight is resting most of his weight on one foot and finds himself biting back a smile when he remembers Guinevere saying she stomped on one of his feet with all her might.
Santiago begins talking rapidly in Spanish. Arthur cannot understand any of it, but he doesn't need to. If Arthur didn't already know that the don is extremely angry with his son, his tone of voice and body language conveyed it quite clearly.
Arthur can tell Gwaine can understand a fair amount of what is being said by his facial expressions and quiet exclamations of "Oh, bugger!" and "Aye, mate."
When Doña Estela steps up, Lancelot clearly expects sympathy, and holds out a hand. "Mamá…" he starts.
Estela does not take the offered hand, and, crying, says a few words in a soft, hoarse voice that makes Lancelot hang his head.
"She told him she is very disappointed in him and is ashamed to call him 'son'. She said his grandmother is weeping for him in heaven," Gwaine whispers. "And Santiago called him a disgrace and basically disowned him."
"Sounds about right," Arthur softly replies.
"Well, he doesn't have much time left alive anyway. But he will buried without honor and away from the rest of his family. If he is buried at all," Gwaine explains while Santiago starts talking again.
Suddenly, Don Santiago turns around. "We will return with our guards to retrieve him tomorrow morning," he tells Arthur.
"Of course," Arthur replies. He knows Lancelot is looking at him, but he ignores him. He doesn't want to hear any apologies or anything else he might have to say. "This way," he says, holding out his hand.
"I'm going to take a minute," Gwaine says, and Arthur nods.
Gwaine walks up to the bars of the cell and coldly looks at Lancelot.
"I'm sor—"
"Don't." Gwaine cuts him off. "You made me a promise and you broke it. It's one thing for you to disgrace yourself, but don't drag me into your depravity. You could have cost me everything here. You may not care about honor, but I do." Lancelot has the decency to look down. "And it's not me who needs your apology," Gwaine adds, his blood beginning to boil. "But you'll never get that opportunity because you'll never see her again. You don't deserve her forgiveness. I hope your final days are spent living in regret for what you attempted to do to the sweetest, kindest, purest, most gentle person who walks this earth. Not to mention what you did to I don't even know how many others." He turns to leave.
"Gwaine," Lancelot calls.
"Lobhadh i ifreann," Gwaine tosses over his shoulder, not breaking his stride. Rot in hell. He heads to the training fields to work off his anger before seeing anyone else.
xXx
The party from Aragon understandably keeps to themselves until lunch, which is a quiet affair. Guinevere invites Doña Estela on a trip to the marketplace after their meal, and she accepts, happy to have a diversion.
"How many children do you have?" Guinevere asks as they walk.
"Six," Estela answers. "Tiago is the oldest, at 25." She pauses thoughtfully and asks, "You are not yet with child, my lady?"
"No," Guinevere answers. "It has already become gossip, and is becoming increasingly difficult to ignore."
"The more you worry about it, the more difficult it will become for his seed to take hold," Estela counsels. "Santi and I were married five years before it happened, and then we couldn't stop," she says, giggling like a much younger woman.
Guinevere can't help joining her. "How old were you when you were married, if I may ask?"
"I was just 16," Estela answers.
"You look ten years younger than your age," Guinevere blurts. "Oh! Forgive me," she quickly apologizes, but Estela laughs.
"My lady, do you not know the secret?" Estela asks. "You have it as well and you do not know?"
"Secret?" Guinevere asks.
They start walking again. "Mi abuela – my grandmother – was a Moor," Estela explains. "That is why I am darker than Santi. My sisters and I used to lament over being darker than the other young Ladies. Abuela told us, 'Ah, but when these fair-skinned princesas are grown, they will look old, while you will still have smooth foreheads and plump cheeks.'" She looks at Guinevere and adds, "Surely your mother still looks young and beautiful."
Guinevere presses her lips together and says, "My mother died when I was four years old, I'm afraid."
"Oh, I am sorry," Estela says, embarrassed.
"You could not have known," Guinevere responds. "I only have vague memories of her, but I do remember her being very beautiful. She was dark like my brother. I favor Father's lighter coloring. Funny how that happened; I would have thought Elyan and I would have turned out somewhere in between them," she muses, almost to herself.
"Tiago is almost a copy of Santi, yet Pascual is almost darker than I am," Estela says with a shrug. "And Lancelot has Santi's eyes but my nose and mouth." She looks at Guinevere. "I would be very interested to see how your children turn out. They will undoubtedly be beautiful, but will they be dark or light? Will you have a child with your skin and his hair? Only El Señor knows."
Guinevere smiles and leads her to the stall of one of her favorite vendors to show her the fine silks and fabrics.
Estela purchases a length of dark purple silk and a handful of colorful ribbons, and then they move on to the herbs.
They shop, not discussing anything of importance for a time. Estela makes several purchases, all carried by one of her knights that has been accompanying them, along with Sir Bors. The two knights have been trying to talk, but Sir Francisco does not speak English and Bors does not speak Spanish, so there is a lot of pointing and gesturing.
As they walk back, Guinevere asks, "You have a lovely name, Doña Estela. What does it mean?"
"Thank you. It means 'star'. Santi says it is an appropriate name, since I am small and bright," she explains.
"That is very sweet," Guinevere replies. The fact that they have been together for thirty years and still seem to be very much in love makes her own heart swell with hope for her future with Arthur.
"What does your name mean, Reina?" Estela asks.
"I believe it means 'fair and smooth'," Guinevere answers, frowning lightly. "I like my name, but I've always found the meaning to be a bit strange." She pauses a moment and says, "And please, call me Guinevere. I do not believe we need to stand on formalities now. We are friends, yes?"
Estela smiles. "Sí. Guinevere," she says, trying it out. With her accent, it sounds a bit more like "Wenibeer", and she looks a little embarrassed. "My accent does not like your beautiful name."
"My brother calls me 'Gwen', if that would be easier for you," Guinevere suggests. "And you speak English very well."
"Thank you… Gwen. I am not always comfortable speaking English because I do not pronounce as well as Santi or my children. But I did not learn until I was much older," she explains. "My father did not think it necessary to educate my sisters and me beyond learning our letters and numbers." She lowers her voice and says, "I think he was unhappy that our mother gave him no sons and that was his way of punishing us for being girls."
Guinevere doesn't quite know how to respond to that, so she simply says, "So Don Santiago taught you how to speak English?"
"He started to. But he was unable to devote the time he wanted to spend on it, so he hired a tutor for me. I learned English, French, and many other things that my father never saw fit to have me learn. It was wonderful," Estela answers.
"That's amazing," Guinevere says. "And never feel embarrassed about your accent. You can speak three languages, and most people – including myself – can only speak one. And most not very well at that," she adds, grinning.
They return to the castle grounds to find Tiago sparring with Gwaine and the other knights cheering them on. Bors and Francisco try to hide their disappointment in not being able to join them, but Guinevere notices. She spies Merlin and waves him over.
"Yes, my lady?" Merlin asks, hardly out of breath from running.
"Merlin, would you take our purchases so these knights may join their companions? They look like they are about to jump out of their skin," she asks.
"Of course," Merlin answers, taking the packages.
"Go on," Guinevere instructs, and Doña Estela nods.
"Thank you, my lady," Sir Bors says.
"Muchas gracias, mi reina," Sir Francisco echoes. The two knights quickly bow and jog over to the field.
xXx
The next morning, Guinevere bids farewell to their new friends just after breakfast, then returns to the royal chambers. Arthur accompanies Don Santiago and his family to the dungeons, along with their three knights, Sir Leon, and Sir Gwaine.
Lancelot is likely weakened by having spent more than a month imprisoned, being given only humble and basic meals and no exercise, but the king (and Don Santiago) take no chances. The largest of the three knights from Aragon steps into the cell and claps irons on Lancelot's wrists and ankles. Then he is led out and flanked by the other two guards so there is one on each side and one behind. Tiago steps in front of his brother, barely glancing at him, and they all follow their parents up and out.
Lancelot blinks in the bright sunlight of the courtyard, but as soon as his eyes adjust, he lifts his face and looks up towards the windows to the royal chambers. The action is almost automatic, like a reflex, and Arthur catches it.
"You won't see her," he says, his voice low. "She has better things to do with her time than to watch a criminal being led from the kingdom."
Lancelot drops his gaze and does not reply. He is somewhat roughly led into a wagon, and the same large knight joins him, keeping guard.
"Thank you again for your hospitality," Santiago says, turning towards Arthur. "I pray when next we meet it will be under happy circumstances, sí?"
"Yes," Arthur agrees with a nod. He shakes the don's hand.
"If you ever have occasion to travel south, Rey Arturo, we would be honored to host you in our home," Doña Estela says.
"The honor would be ours, my lady," Arthur says. He kisses her hand, then asks, "May I?" holding his arms out.
Estela smiles and steps forward, accepting the warm hug from the young king. When she steps back, she pats his cheek in a motherly way and says, "I know you will take good care of Guinevere."
"Absolutely," he answers, gives her a smile, then steps over to clasp arms with Tiago.
"Once again, please accept our apolo—" Tiago starts, but Arthur holds up his hand.
"No more apologies are needed," Arthur says. "You have come and are taking him away. That is all we wanted."
"Understood," Tiago nods.
"Best wishes to you and your wife," Arthur says.
"Thank you," Tiago replies.
Arthur steps back beside Gwaine and Leon as the party mounts their horses and make ready to leave.
"Safe travels," Arthur calls.
Don Santiago gives a wave and they exit the courtyard. Once they are out of sight, all three men exhale heavily.
"That's a weight lifted," Gwaine finally remarks when they turn back towards the castle.
"Too right there," Arthur agrees. "Leon, I'd like you to run training today," he adds, looking over at his senior knight. "I need to spend some time with Guinevere right now."
"Of course, Sire," Leon nods.
"Can I spend some time with Morgana instead of going to training?" Gwaine asks with a grin.
"No," Arthur answers, then heads inside, leaving the two knights standing outside.
