Part Fourteen
Gwen and Lamorak found Leon patrolling the upper bailey. The sun was just starting to rise, but Lamorak's torch was useful in providing light to highlight her old friend's tall form and concerned features. She pulled the heavy cloak closer around her, thankful that it still hid her growing abdomen, and waited for his reproach.
"It's before dawn, My Lady," Leon said without preamble. He glared at the younger knight. "Does the King know that she's about?"
Lamorak cleared his throat. "Sir Leon, the Queen—"
"Is right here," she said. "I am going for a walk and I do not wish to disturb Arthur."
Leon's mouth tightened at the corners, but whatever thoughts he held, remained inside.
"Will you accompany us?"
He stared for a moment. Gwen remembered him being rendered speechless when they were children. It was rare, but it did happen. The look on his face reminded her of one of those times. So many years had passed since then. She could hardly believe how much had transpired.
"Yes, My Lady," he said, his expression softening a fraction. He called over another knight to finish his patrol and he moved into place beside Gwen.
The trio moved through the castle quietly. She claimed the lead with the knights close beside her. Slumber had not come easy. She'd spent the better part of the night awake and troubled. Her response to Arthur's plea left her shaken as much as his request had frightened her. As his wife, and especially as his Queen, he needed her to remain strong. Collapsing into tears weakened them both. Arthur had to know that should anything happen, he could always depend on her to do whatever he asked. She dreaded to think that would include telling their child that his deceased father had been a wonderful, loving husband, fierce warrior, and just king. She had been true when she disclosed that she had long prepared herself for the day he might not return from battle, but that did not make her any less eager to never see that day's arrival.
They left the castle in silence. Their footsteps were soft along the cobblestones. Gwen paid no heed to the worried glances that were shared over her head between the two men. As long as they did not attempt to detain or deter her, she was content to walk and enjoy the brisk morning air. The next full moon would change their lives. She knew with certainty that Arthur would not allow early morning walks and no amount of coercing would influence any of his knights. Not that she would dare. The announcement would put them all on alert, Gwen most of all.
Deep below the folds of the cloak and the fabric of her dress, the unborn child captured Gwen's attention with a powerful nudge. Her steps came to an abrupt halt, which caused both knights to regard her with concern. Leon reached out for her and she took his arm. A faint smile passed her lips as she realized where they were.
"I found Elyan here so many times," she said.
In the early hours, the training ground appeared unassuming. Just mounds of fresh green grass. But when young men took claim of that bit of land, the space transformed, as did the young men, taking their innocence and turning them into warriors.
"He wanted to be a knight," Leon said, his eyes clouding over, as he too seemed to remember those days. "He never said a word, though."
"To me either, but I knew." She sighed. Her brother's youthful frustration broke her heart. There was nothing she could do about it.
"Who knew that when he returned, it would happen?" Leon said with a smile when they moved away from the training field.
"Arthur knighting him was one of the happiest moments of his life."
"Guess his happiest." Leon smiled down at her. A teasing light danced in his bright blue eyes.
Gwen laughed. "I can't begin to. Elyan was always so serious. It's hard for me to imagine."
"You should know this," he said kindly. "It was the day of your coronation. He was so proud of you. He couldn't sleep the night before. I found him on the battlements, just pacing. We sat up till morning, talking about old times."
"Frogging at midnight?"
"Of course," Leon said with a faint chuckle. Then his voice cracked a bit as he added, "And other things."
Gwen nodded. She understood without him saying more. It was the other thing that finally drove her brother away. But she didn't want to dredge up that memory. With the promise of life fluttering inside of her, she dared not dwell on sadness and circumstances that could not be changed.
Companionable quiet settled among them again. Gwen was glad that she had requested the presence of her old friend. Angelica's hint that he worried about her had come as a surprise. He was always so busy with training and conquests that it never occurred to Gwen that he'd have time to voice his concerns about her welfare to his mother. She supposed a friendship such as theirs would last forever.
By now they had reached lower town. The sun had not risen fully, but there was enough natural light for Gwen to peek into her former home. The cozy, little cottage was now the residence for a family of three. She could see a father balancing a little boy on his knee at the table. The mother stirred a pot at the hearth.
Like at the training ground, more memories flooded back. Deira. Tom. Elyan. She had lost them all far too soon. And now, Arthur wanted her to prepare for his potential demise, too. Gods, how could she bear it? Was it her fate to be left alone? She blinked away sudden tears and clenched her jaw. But there was nothing she could do for the sadness that gripped her.
Leon squeezed her hand, which still rested on his forearm. "May I be of help?"
"I wanted that for Elyan," she said, nodding toward her former home. "A family. I hope the same for you, too."
"And for you," he said.
She summoned the courage to smile. "And for me."
"Don't worry about Morgana," he told her. "We'll find her. She won't hurt you again."
The return to the castle was filled with more pleasant conversation. Gwen shared with Lamorak stories about Leon and Elyan's childhood adventures. Leon, while remaining respectful of her position as Queen, imparted a few tales of his own.
The two knights escorted Gwen to the royal chambers. A fluttering of noise on the other side caused both men to draw their swords and enter first. There they found Arthur red-faced and donning chainmail and armor. When his eyes rested on Gwen, he immediately ordered everyone out. Leon gave her a faint smile and closed the door, leaving her alone with her very riled husband.
Arthur grasped her shoulders and squeezed very gently. All the while his blue eyes flashed and burned into hers. "You can never do that again."
"I promise," she said. Her words were mostly muffled as he pulled her close. She sank against him, not minding the cold metal against her cheek. "I won't, Arthur."
"Why, in the name of Camelot…?" He released a ragged breath as he slowly released her. Bit by bit, he removed the chainmail with her help.
"I'm sorry for last night."
"Whatever for?" he asked perplexed. He laid the chainmail over the back of a chair and tossed the armor on the table. "Guinevere, you have nothing to apologize for."
"Weeping—"
"No." He pressed a finger to her mouth. "I shouldn't have spoken to you like that. I was out of turn."
"You were not." She kissed his hand and clutched it to her chest. "Tell me what happened with Merlin."
Arthur frowned. "Guinevere…"
"Please, Arthur. I feel that I should know. I want to know."
AG*AG
Merlin could never imagine the sensation of relief that filled him after being free of all the secrets. For the first time in weeks, if not years, he slept in peace. Of course the worry about Mordred and his role in Arthur's foretold death still lingered, but overall, Merlin found his steps lighter now that several burdens had been lifted from his shoulders.
Yet joy did not accompany his relief. True, having Arthur aware of his demise at Mordred's hands afforded the King some advantage, as well as, the knowledge that Merlin's powers exceeded Morgana's. Merlin chuckled to himself at Arthur's expression upon that revelation. No doubt even with everything that had transpired some of the belief that Merlin was still young and hapless would linger. Still, Merlin couldn't say that was the message he read in Arthur's eyes when he asked him to stay and protect Gwen and their unborn child. And he did ask. As King, Arthur could have commanded the order. A command would have stung, but Merlin would have done it anyway. But to ask… No, Arthur's request signaled far more than the King was ready to say aloud.
With those thoughts turning round and round in his mind, Merlin rose early, saddled Old Blue, and the two set out far beyond the Darkling Woods. Since their last meeting, he'd received word that the Druids had moved their camp. The keepers of the Old Religion remained on this side of the Camelot border, but just barely. It was well after noon before he reached their camp. Like the last time, his name whispered in the breeze for his ears only.
"Emyrs."
Familiar tingles rippled along his forearms and teased the back of his neck. The presence of magic always did that to him. He wondered if others could sense him as well.
A few minutes more of riding and he was greeted by Cynwrig. Elva stood at his side. Her eyes held a smile. His remained unreadable. Merlin dismounted. One of the young men stepped forward to tend to the faithful horse while Merlin followed the Druid camp leader inside his tent. Elva followed a few steps behind.
"Our position has not changed," Cynwrig began before Merlin could speak. "If you came on Pendragon's behalf, you came in vain."
"No, that's not why I'm here," Merlin said. He looked behind him to where Elva still stood. He beckoned for her to come in. Once she was standing beside Cynwrig, Merlin spoke again. "You were right about Gwen."
Elva's face darkened with concern. "How does she fare?"
"Well," Merlin said. "We almost lost her, but…I. I saved her."
"You used magic."
Merlin couldn't be sure if Cynwrig's statement was an affirmation or a condemnation. He collected his thoughts before answering. "I saved my friend's life and that of her child's."
"So, the King knows?" Elva asked.
"Yes," Cynwrig responded quickly. "He and his Queen, but no one else. Pendragon knows he's Emyrs, but he's unaware of what that truly means. You confided many things."
Elva gave Merlin a tentative smile. Cynwrig's expression remained strained. He seemed unsure of what to make of the events.
"Why are you here if not to ask for help against Morgana?" the other man asked, perplexed and suspicious.
"You saw what happened with Gwen and between Arthur and me, didn't you?"
Cynwrig gave one slow nod.
"And you know of the prophecy concerning Mordred," Merlin added.
Elva's slight gasp was the only noise heard in the room. For several moments, Cynwrig didn't speak. When he did, he suggested that they all sit. After they sat comfortably on the pillows on the floor, he said, "The prophecy is not a secret among our people."
Merlin frowned. He knew that. Kilgharrah had warned him almost a decade ago. If the dragon had the foreknowledge of Mordred's role, no doubt others with the gifts of the Old Religion had the same knowledge!
"But there's more that you seek?"
"Would you let him speak?" Elva said, cutting in. "Please, Emyrs. What do you ask of us?"
Cynwrig grimaced, but he didn't correct her.
"Has it changed?" The question rolled from Merlin quickly. He grasped that he hadn't formed it coherently by the strange looks on their faces. He slowed down and asked again, "Now that Arthur knows…everything, has that knowledge changed anything? Will he still die by Mordred's sword?"
Cynwrig clasped his hands together. Without a word passing between them, Elva rose to get a pitcher of water. She brought it back and poured the water into a bucket. When she sat again, she chose a position beside Merlin. They watched Cynwrig as he gazed into the water and murmured in a low rumble.
Minutes passed. Merlin felt restless. He started fidgeting, but Elva closed her hand over his and squeezed. The rippling sensation occurred at first contact. Their eyes met and he read her silent message. Patience.
Eventually, Cynwrig became free of the vision. He pushed the bucket away and looked Merlin full in the face.
"Nothing has changed."
"That can't be," Merlin said, rising to his feet. "I can…I can stop it."
"You can't stop Fate," Cynwrig said.
"But it isn't fair!"
"Perhaps you can consult the Disir," Elva said, also standing, "and make a plea on Arthur's behalf."
"Elva," Cynwrig spoke sharply, "we should stay out of this. The Disir has made their decision. Fate cannot be deterred."
Merlin mulled over Elva's suggestion. There was merit. Was it the judgment of the Disir that ordered Arthur's death sentence? If so, could they not see reason enough to overturn their decision? Arthur knew about Merlin's abilities. He didn't order Merlin's death or his banishment. Was that not enough to prove he was nothing like his father?
Old Blue was waiting for Merlin when he stepped outside the tent. He moved to mount, but Cynwrig stopped him.
"Morgana is waiting."
"For what?"
Cynwrig's eyes reflected helplessness. "That I do not know. Only when the time comes, she will strike."
AG&AG
The embankment that overlooked the training field had a gentle incline. The soft, plush grass added to the area's perfection. Arthur would have preferred over stuffed pillows and the protection of stone walls, but he knew that Guinevere relished the warmth of the sun on her face. She enjoyed the fragrance of fresh cut grass and the tickle of gentle breezes. He wanted all those things for her as he shared what he'd learned from Merlin.
A basket of grapes, pears, and cheese sat between them. He moved them aside and moved across the blanket to sit closer. Her knowing brown eyes lit up. A smile came to her full lips. So beautiful, he thought. He wondered if she had any thought to what happiness her smiles brought to him. Impulsively, he leaned over and kissed her cheek.
Just then, Leon barked an order to the knights he was training. Gwen jumped and took Arthur's hand. He smiled at her. She laughed.
"I wasn't expecting that."
"No," he said. "Training is loud. Would you like to go inside?"
She shook her head. "No, I like being out here. Reminds me of Elyan."
Arthur nodded. She had shared with him stories about her childhood and how she had often found Elyan on the border of the training field. He'd confided how he had been aware of her even then. If she believed him, he wasn't sure, but he knew that the memories of Elyan never left her.
So there came his hesitation. The promise to tell her everything seemed a horrible vow to make. The memory of her weeping in his arms frightened him. Guinevere didn't cry easily. As she collapsed in his arms, he was reminded that this was his burden not hers. He was supposed to protect her from the horrors of the outside world. Yet because of him, she'd been terrorized by them. She'd lost her brother and had come close to losing her life and the life of their unborn child. He couldn't stop a loud sigh from expressing his weariness.
"Arthur?"
"Yes, love?" He slid closer to her until his thigh was pressed against hers. He should care about propriety, but he just needed to touch her.
"The past year has been a trial—"
"I'm sorry," he began.
"Please don't," she said. "Yes, it was not easy, but we are still strong. We have each other." She took his hand and placed it inside her cloak to rest on her abdomen. "We have our future. We will be stronger yet."
Her optimism was a blessing. The life growing inside her was filled with better promises than he'd ever uttered, including the one that had brought them outside. As usual, she was right. Their first three years of marriage had not prepared him for the past year or more that began with Guinevere's abduction. They had endured a great deal. Even prior to becoming his Queen, she had proven her strength. Perhaps it was his own weakness, causing him to hesitate. Uther had always warned him that others would stop at nothing to take Camelot, but the knowledge that death would come from the hand of someone Arthur trusted…
Gods, just the knowing made the words lodge in his throat and refuse to budge. He looked up from where his hand lay hidden beneath the folds of her cloak to meet her unwavering stare. He could continue the delay no longer. But he would have to get there on his own terms.
"I meant what I said. Merlin is allowed to stay," he said. "Is that what you wanted?"
"I must admit that I have been very upset with him. I'm not sure if I've forgiven him, but I'm trying."
"Is it all of the secrets?" Arthur asked, "Or one in a particular?"
"I don't care for the secrets. I thought he and I were better friends, but I suppose I do understand his reasons…his fear." She looked toward the training knights. Her voice was strained when she spoke. "It was the confession about Lancelot that hurt the most."
"I could have killed him for that," he stated honestly. "To think I could have ordered your death based on a lie—"
"No, Arthur," she said, hoarsely. "Now, we know that Lancelot was not the true one, we have no answer for my behavior. We cannot say that my actions were based on a l-lie or sorcery—"
"Of course, Morgana was at fault!" He cupped her face and gently tilted her head so that their eyes met. "Of course! I have no doubt. Neither should you."
"I wish I could be sure, but…" She drew in breaths. "I don't understand how it all happened. We were so happy. Then he just appeared…with his stories. One morning, he even brought me a bracelet and begged me to wear it."
Arthur wondered if Guinevere was listening to herself. The answer was right there and it boggled him how she failed to notice.
"Guinevere! Did you not hear yourself?" he said, unable to contain himself.
"Yes, I said I don't know how you can be so certain."
"You also said that he gave you a bracelet which he begged you to wear. See? A bracelet. I would wager it was an enchanted trinket crafted by my dear sister." As tears seeped from the corners of her eyes, he brushed them aside and asked, "What say you?"
"Oh, Arthur! Do you really think so?"
"Yes," he said. "I do. Had I known about Lancelot at the time I never would have doubted you. Everyone can see how much you love me."
"I do!" She cried, laughed, and wrapped her arms around his shoulders.
He held her close, his nose buried in the curve of her neck. Now, he thought, with her doubts finally quashed, he could confide the prophecy. Then a firm little nudge pressed against his torso. He wasn't sure if their child had issued encouragement or a warning.
When they pulled away, she asked, "Have you forgiven him?"
"I'm trying. Have you?"
"Trying. I trusted him, Arthur, as much as I trust you."
"For me as well. His silence almost caused me to lose you and I don't know, Guinevere. I know he has helped us many times over, but some of his decisions… Looking back on events, I can't help but wonder."
"Wonder what?"
"Wonder why?" Arthur said. "Why after all our years together he wouldn't just tell me the truth about himself when I became king?"
"There's something else, isn't there?" she asked. "What has he told you that you haven't told me?"
Arthur wasn't too surprised that she could read him so well. It's one of the many reasons why he loved her. "I would rather not upset you."
"Your silence upsets me enough. Do you trust me?"
"How dare you ask me?" he asked, deeply offended.
"I would beg of you to show me. Mine may not be as broad, but my shoulders are just as strong. Whatever you're keeping, dear, I promise I am not too weak to withstand it."
He paused to admire her. There, the warrior again. His beautiful, fierce, angelic warrior. How could he ever believe she would allow him to remain silent? Maybe some other woman would, but not his Guinevere. Not his Queen.
Arthur saw no reason to mince words or use a softer interpretation. He simply related what Merlin had told him about the vision of Mordred killing him on a battlefield. He felt a twinge at saying the words aloud, but once said, it felt right sharing the knowledge with her. Again, he wondered why Merlin had remained silent for so long and if he had ever planned to warn him about Mordred.
At the end, he remembered another detail. "Oh, and the Druids call him Emrys."
"What does that mean?" she asked. "Emyrs? Not just Merlin?"
Arthur shrugged. He had pondered the same.
"We must do something about Mordred—"
"I can't order his execution," Arthur said. "I have no just cause, and…"
"And you care for him," she said softly. "Yet if the vision is true, you wish for me to prepare for your death and remember to tell our child about you."
"Guinevere." He tried to sound stern, but he failed miserably. Her unspoken point had merit.
"I care for Mordred, too, but I love you. I will not bury you just to save his life, and if it means that he must lose his, in order that you live and our child has a father…" She took his hands and squeezed. "Arthur, you do what you must so that our child has a father, or so help me, I will."
"Guinevere," he said, power in his tone. "You will not insert yourself in this."
She struggled to stand. He helped and she offered him a tight smile of gratitude. Toe to toe, they faced off on the embankment. Dark brown ringlets swirled around her cheeks. The fire flashing in her brown eyes warned Arthur not to reach out and twirl a curl around his finger despite the desire that burned inside him to do so. What was it about her anger that sparked his passion? True, he was becoming just as angry too, but that did not diminish his need for her.
As if completely oblivious to his desire, she pressed her hand flat against his chest. She spoke just above a whisper, but there was fire in her tone. "I will not be a widow, Arthur. I will not."
With that said, the Queen spun on her heel and headed up the embankment toward the castle entrance. Sirs Safir and Lamorak, who had been keeping watch at a discreet distance, moved in to flank her on both sides. Bern also appeared to fold the blanket and take the basket. But Arthur was only dimly aware of his manservant and the protective knights. His Guinevere had his full attention. She marched away with her back ramrod straight and her long dark curls swinging in the wind. He knew that determined gait. She would not be made a widow if she could prevent it and by Gods, he had no intention of her becoming one. But if Mordred had to die for Arthur to live, Arthur knew it could not be by his beloved's hands. No, there had to be another way, and he had to find it.
[A/N: In all honesty, I didn't see that coming either. Gwen! She is not playing. Arthur certainly has his hands full. lol LaraSmith raised some great points about the Disir. I'm not sure where things are headed, but I'm psyched that she reminded me of that sweet little, judgmental trio. Here's a little heads up…there's gonna be a slight crossover of info between Destined for Greatness and this fic in the next few chapters of both stories. Of course, I'm not giving details, but I just wanted to let you know it was coming. If you're not reading Destined for Greatness, it won't really impact you that much, but if you're planning to check it out and haven't gotten around to it… Well, you may wanna get it on otherwise, you'll hit a spoiler. Was that ambiguous enough? lol As always, THANKS for reading, favoriting, following, and reviewing! Your enthusiasm/support is wonderful. You're the best.]