Chapter 25: Guinevere
The key was to keep moving, keep busy. When it got too quiet or she sat too still for too long alone, her thoughts overcame her. Turned towards worry, and threatened to overwhelm her.
It wasn't much better to keep company and attempt conversation, though the arrival of Nemeth's middle-aged healer Alice had reduced the needs of Camelot's physician for an extra pair of hands. In Merlin's absence, Gwen and Tobe could keep up, but with Alice present, there wasn't enough for the level of busyness that Gwen's state of mind needed for distraction. Not even with the onset of cold weather that increased minor illness through the citadel and lower town.
The company she kept was mostly, the princess of Gawant and the lady of Descalot. Elena was missing Gwaine and Ally was missing Merlin – her tutor and her cousin – so even when they managed to chat about something unrelated to men in general and their men in particular, their subdued anxiety seemed to shuffle through undercurrents and knock together and magnify. It was stifling.
Elena understood what Gwen was feeling the best of anyone, but though the princess seemed more self-confident this trip than the last, a week's company wasn't enough for them to move past brave reassurances to whatever fears they were attempting to deny with busyness. Instead they all tried in vain to ignore if worse comes to worst…
Today they were making clothes to be given away among the poorer villagers, sewing garments from cloth Elena had purchased. Gwen's idea, and she hadn't thought it through completely – that neither Elena nor Ally had the experience she did, in handling the rougher thicker fabrics commoners used for cold-weather practicality.
"No, it's not working," Elena said for the third time. Ally had edged their chairs right up next to each other under the window in Elena's guest-chamber, to experiment with spells of magic upon needle and thread and woolen cloth. "See, it can't make the stitches fine enough for – ouch!"
"Sorry…" Ally tried to smother a giggle. "You're not supposed to put your finger there while it's sewing."
The younger girl had been both quiet and sympathetic since the arrival of Sir Carados, alone and injured – the former quality more endearing than the latter, particularly because she was glowing subtly from her own happy betrothal, and the daily attention of her knight. But she'd responded to Princess Elena without the intimidation she'd displayed in the presence of Princess Mithian – mostly, Gwen thought, because Elena was not a proper lady the way Mithian was. Elena spilled wine at dinner, and tripped on the hem of her dress when she was wearing shoes, and something about that unsophisticated clumsiness gave Ally confidence.
"While it's trying to sew," Elena sighed, grimacing at Gwen. "I suppose this is more useful than embroidering yet another tapestry, but I'm just no good with a needle."
Gwen managed a sympathetic look. "If the weather was better, we could have the horses saddled for a gallop."
"Mithian would've liked that, too," Ally remarked, letting her project crumple into a ball on her lap. "I can't imagine wanting to join a quest like this, even with Merlin there."
"I know what you mean," Elena said ruefully. "I think, on the whole, I'm happier leaving the excitement and danger for Gwaine to deal with. Waiting like this is no fun, but…"
Gwen tilted her head, pausing with needle in hand to examine the ache in her chest from another angle. Would she rather be there, like Mithian was, than to sit and wait for word to come, while days passed disappointed?
"I suppose it depends," she said, remembering certain adventures of her own. Moments of excitement and thrill of victory, a certain pride in herself for contributing to that - but there was also the exhausting tedium of travel, the tension of fear of failure. She couldn't help thinking of her own brief experiences, captured by Cenred's men to force Arthur to endanger himself at Fyrien, captured by the war-chief Hengist by accident - compared to facing the bandits in Ealdor, or planning to rescue Elyan. "If a girl can be one of the warriors, or end up another damsel who needs saving herself."
"Did you just call the king a girl?" an unexpected voice piped up.
Ally jumped. Elena blinked, and Gwen looked around the room, near the floor, behind the furniture. And – there, nearly hidden by the gathered legs of the chairs at the table.
"Tobe," she said sternly. "It's not nice to eavesdrop. You should have let us know you were there."
"Sorry?" The boy wormed his way out, on his belly on the stone floor, grinning up at them. "My ma said what you were doing. And me da doesn't have enough work to keep him busy."
Gwen's heart throbbed once, dully. She remembered how hard it had been for her, after the lady Morgana's disappearance from Camelot. Hoping every day for her friend's return, having to realize – painfully, over the course of weeks of doubt and second-guessing and self-recrimination – that her life and purposes had to change.
And then her mistress had returned so changed…
She felt sympathy for Orryn, and clung all the harder to the hope – no, the belief, that Gwaine and Merlin would have more luck rescuing Arthur than Arthur and Merlin had in finding Morgana, that year, and that Arthur would return unchanged. Maybe the fact that Merlin no longer had to hide his magic, would make the difference. She had to believe the stories Gaius and Arthur had told her about their friend's magic. She had to trust in the destiny of the king and his sorcerer. She had to.
Tobe continued, "And Gaius wants me to –"
"Ah, there you are, young man."
Gwen let her own sewing drop to her lap, turning in her chair to see the woman who'd pushed open the door ajar. Comfortably plump, with gray streaked liberally through the long brown braid pulled over the shoulder of her shawl, and lines of life – joy, and sorrow – adding a dependable expression to her face.
"Good afternoon, Alice," Elena said cheerfully.
"My ladies," Alice returned, smiling. "Tobe, Gaius is looking for you – there's some washing up he wants done."
"Aw…" Tobe climbed to his feet in degrees of protest.
Gwen respected the courage it had taken the older woman to dare Camelot again after her banishment last year. Leon had refused to let the council take action against her, for multiple reasons, and judging by the way she and Gaius treated each other and acted around each other and spoke about each other, Gwen suspected she knew part of the reason Alice had come. As much for the message, as for the people she was bringing it to.
Courage, and hope. Gwen drew strength for both from Alice's example – and thought Elena and Ally might as well.
"Are you busy, Alice?" she said. "If you're not, it would be nice if you could stay for a bit?"
"I know there must be a spell to animate a needle properly," Ally added.
Alice's cheeks bunched in a conspiratorial smile, but she watched Tobe drag his feet, under her arm and out the door, before she entered the room. "There is," she said. "But if I don't miss my guess, your thoughts are anywhere but your sewing, dears. Even you, Gwen."
Gwen glanced down and realized she hadn't folded the hem properly on the second sleeve, which meant it didn't match the first, and would need to be pulled apart and re-fitted. She sighed.
"Is it true," Ally said, betraying the fascination with stories of romance the young-and-in-love seemed to have, "that you were engaged to Gaius, years ago?"
"I was," Alice said, drawing a chair to Elena's other side and retrieving the princess' sewing placidly. "But then Queen Ygraine died, and Gaius was willing to practice medicine without magic – and I was not. I left Camelot, and he stayed…"
"Do you ever wish you'd stayed with him?" Elena asked, slipping a shoeless foot under her other leg in the seat of her chair, and wriggling to a more comfortable position.
"I used to. I imagine Gaius sometimes wished he had come with me, too…" Alice plied her needle calmly. "But that's life, my dears. Choices and consequences. If I'd stayed, I'd have been tempted to the use of magic – caught perhaps and executed. And if Gaius had come with me – then what would have become of Merlin. And Arthur."
"And Gwaine," Elena said seriously, then swayed toward Ally. "And Lancelot."
And all of us, Gwen realized. How would Morgana's life have changed – and hers as well. Elena might be married to Arthur, and Ally still hidden away in Descalot.
"Those first days of being apart," Alice said softly, eyes on her work, "I couldn't have imagined ever being glad things worked out like they did. But time – and destiny perhaps – have a funny way of separating threads, and then retying them." Her fingers performed the action as she spoke. "The men you love, my dears, are at the heart of a kingdom. They are great, brave men, who may do great, brave things – and may give their lives for it. Now, or anytime in the future. What men like that need from their women, their wives, is a different sort of strength – you will fully learn this in time, I think. The strength of true and loving and solid support, when they win. When they lose. When they lose."
Gwen was finding it hard to breathe, though she understood what Alice was saying. She couldn't let herself fall to pieces in Arthur's absence – there was likely to be many, in the years to come – and expect his return to put her back together, as if her happiness and wholeness was his responsibility, another weight to carry. Especially if he returned wounded himself, in body or in spirit. Yes, she needed Arthur and she wanted to need him, but that need couldn't be absolute if she sometimes had to stand for him or without him.
She missed something Elena said, in that moment.
"Oh, no, I think you can and should trust Merlin," Alice was replying earnestly, looking up from the sewing she'd taken from the princess. "He will do his best and give his utmost, in situations like these. He always has done, Gaius assures me – and his power is considerable. But there may come a day when it's not enough, and he will blame himself – so you, my dears, must not. Do you understand?"
Elena and Ally were nodding – one thoughtful, one simply obedient. Gwen said unsteadily, "Alice. Do you know something we don't know."
The older woman's face relaxed into a soft smile that held a tender sort of pity. "I do. Half an hour ago riders were sighted on the southern road, riders with a red-cloaked escort, coming in at a walk."
The southern road led toward Caerleon. And Gwen knew that Leon had the patrols waiting at the border for their king and the men who'd entered enemy territory to rescue him. Coming at a walk – she didn't know what to make of that. Were there injured, then, or none – or worse?
"Why didn't you tell us?" Elena exclaimed, almost sending herself sprawling as she leaped up from her odd position on the chair.
"Because if you'd rushed right to the stair and courtyard, you'd have been waiting anxiously this past half-hour," Alice said, unperturbed. "Now you can go knowing it'll be minutes, only, til the riders arrive."
Gwen's heart beat harder, more deliberately, more emphatically. She laid aside her own sewing in the act of rising, and reached the door a scant second after Elena, allowing her friend who was already wife to one of the returning fighters – hopefully it was them – to go first.
And realized, along the corridor and down the stair, around a corner and across a gallery, she herself wouldn't have dared to gallop along as Elena was, in the lead. Shoeless, too – Gwen noticed Ally wasn't following, nor Alice, and lengthened her own stride to keep up with Elena.
The princess abruptly reached to grab Gwen's hand, without looking at her, and Gwen squeezed it. Elena kept that hold – and Gwen was glad of it – as they emerged into the afternoon sunlight at the top of the courtyard stair, blinking even as early-twilight winter stretched shadows across the cobblestones.
Gwen was aware that there were more people than was normal for the time of day, and more lingering in place than moving purposefully through. She was aware of Sir Leon, on the third stair next to the equine statue. She was aware of Gaius off to the side – and shivered to wonder if he might be needed in his professional capacity, even as she strained her eyes to see through the barbicon passage. It seemed unfair that the citizens of the lower town would all know that Arthur was back – if he was back, and if he was all right – before she did.
The suggestion of a horse appeared – shadow, silhouette – and then him.
Bareheaded, his golden hair long enough to hide his ears, but blown back from his forehead. Dressed in unfamiliar clothes, a plain brown cloak thrown back from one arm – so he could lift a gesture of acknowledgement to his people who bowed to him, or called out; she'd seen him do it - Arthur led the procession into the courtyard at a slow walk, rocking slightly in the saddle.
Gwen glanced past him to see Gwaine beside Sir Carados from the patrol, in his scarlet cloak. Elena let out a little gasp of relief and pleasure and moved down the stairs on an interceptor course; her husband was upright and grinning, and therefore fine. The next pair were black-haired, Merlin and Mithian. Gwen caught the flash of the princess' wide smile – at something Merlin had said, she thought – and the sorcerer leaned in his saddle to look straight at Gwen between Gwaine and Carados, giving her a firm nod and an unmistakable smile.
She swallowed her own gasp of relief – you can and should trust Merlin – and held down a tide of gratitude rising around her heart, her attention drawn back to Arthur.
He wasn't smiling. Not the charming, brilliant, beloved-by-all expression she'd seen so often, privately adored and publicly scoffed. He was intent – almost ignored the beaming stable-boy waiting for his reins. Greeted Leon abruptly but fervently; Gwen knew they'd have a second such meeting, later and in private.
Gaius swayed forward – but his head was turned as though he was looking at another of the riders – Merlin, almost certainly – and he stayed in his place. Joined by Alice and Tobe – who was cheering so energetically he seemed in danger of tumbling down the stairs. Gwen thought Gaius would insist on his turn with Arthur in private later also – and if he didn't, she was going to. Just to be sure.
Everyone was cheering. She couldn't hear herself over the delighted rejoicing of the entire citadel, so it seemed, for the return of their king. She thought she might be content just to watch him for now, to see him in more ways that were all familiar to her – the shift of his weight, the turn of his head, the swing of his arm – to see that he was the same.
She was going to insist on her turn for privacy, too. Just… later. She could wait, as long as she could indulge the desire to watch him.
But he looked at her, up the stairs at her, and her heart and breath tangled in her throat.
He still wasn't smiling – he took the stairs two at a time and she moved instinctively to meet him. Seeing, closer now, how thin was his face and how dark were his eyes. One step below her, he reached, and she lifted herself into his arms unhesitatingly, their bodies colliding without care for the hundreds of eyes that watched them.
Arthur clung to her fiercely, as he never had before, his arms trapping her tightly against him; she held her breath to feel him trembling. He exhaled against the side of her neck, and she lifted one hand from his shoulder-blades to smooth his hair and cup his neck. The passionate desperation frightened her, speaking silently of the horrors of his ordeal. His need for her, that she'd never felt so open and bare and tenacious, before. That centered and grounded her, and made her able to put away her own fear and loneliness and the difficult burden of waiting, to comfort him with her strength.
"Oh, Guinevere." It was a whisper, and a groan.
She shivered, and smoothed his hair, and tears pushed out of her eyes to have him here and safe, at last. "I'm here. I waited… I love you. You're home – it's all right."
"I don't ever want to leave you again." His voice was rough with emotion she wanted both to soothe and to revel in.
He would, though, she knew. He'd have to, and she'd farewell him with a smile. But just now, it was perfect that he felt that way – even better that he'd say and show it.
"I don't ever want to lose you," he added, drawing back slightly.
Still frowning in earnest intensity, and she almost couldn't hold his gaze when he looked at her like that. She let her hands trail down his arms as he lifted his from her waist to cup around her face, and ended up gripping his forearms, letting him touch her, showing him as much of herself as she could in the moment.
You won't lose me, she tried to tell him with her eyes and her smile, in spite of inadvertent tears. I am yours.
Without hesitation, he bent to capture her mouth with his – possessively assuring himself of her, presence and willingness. Breathless, she tried to match the insistent movement of his lips, to surrender what he sought, to give him what he needed.
Everyone must be watching. I don't care.
When he broke away from her, he twisted his hands to catch hold of hers – and holding the link of their eyes, he went down on one knee.
Her heart seemed to freeze for a moment in shock – then raced on recklessly. Because he hadn't forgotten where they were, or the fact that they were surrounded. But he was behaving as though they were of equal rank, or she of greater – the king! kneeling to her! The rest of the crowded courtyard seemed to hold its breath.
"Say you'll marry me?" Arthur said, clearly but softly, somewhere between a command and a plea. "I don't want to keep waiting. I don't want to lose any more time. I want to be with you. Please say yes."
Gwen was incapable of speech. Instead she sank into a curtsy that spread her skirts on the stairs, lifting his hands to hug them briefly to her chest – to kiss them, the hands of her liege and her lover – to rest her temple against his knuckles.
And then to nod.
"Is that a yes?" he said, and she heard his missing smile in his voice.
She turned her face to him, daring to meet the blue fire of his eyes again, and give him all her happiness in a smile. Maybe the effects of what he'd endured this month had prompted this unexpected proposal – but her answer was still the same, always and forever, whether planned or spontaneous.
"Yes, it's a yes. With all my heart."
He straightened his shoulders, lifting his head – and then he gave her that proud-happy grin that won everyone's hearts. But the roar of cheered approval that rose and rolled around them took her utterly by surprise.
Arthur lifted her to her feet and turned to acknowledge once again the feelings of the people he loved, also – including dozens of knights, a princess, the lord and lady of Gawant… she didn't suppose the council could have much to say against their union, after this moment.
She caught Merlin's eye, out of everyone; he was still down on the cobbled courtyard. Mithian had a hold of his elbow, radiant in her happiness for Gwen, but Merlin seemed wholly content with the princess' touch, and gave her a grin very like the one she'd seen on his face – frequently – the day of Arthur's coronation. Knew you could do it. There was a flash of red at the princess' wrist, and Gwen guessed that if Mithian was wearing Merlin's unusual gift, she could count on their own betrothal to be announced soon.
Two more tears started to her eyes to think, this should have been his reception, when magic was freed and his service officially recognized – she'd done nothing for the kingdom, in comparison to what Merlin had done. But Merlin was always so happy when his friends' dreams came true… And there was Lancelot and Ally, and Gwaine and Elena – Gaius and Alice, she might add? – all beaming to share that happiness.
It was humbling to think that her love for Camelot – for Arthur – was going to lead her into his form of sacrifice for the kingdom. That indomitably cheerful waiting, even if it was for a private dinner after a council session had been extended.
She didn't feel ready – who ever was? – but the way he squeezed her hand and smiled down into her eyes made her realize, she wouldn't have it any other way.
…..*….. Epilogue …..*…..
The day was the very definition of spring, the air still dawn-dew fresh, the sun warm in a shy-new way. Beams and breeze touched the peach-silk of Gwen's gown, her shoulders and her forearms, bared by cutaway sleeves that swayed from her elbows as she turned her face upward and closed her eyes.
For the moment alone, in the middle of a place she'd never been before, surrounded by a crowd.
Arthur and Merlin both claimed credit, but whoever's idea it had been, the oddly shaped white-blue dragon-egg sat on a section of tree-trunk, in the sand of the middle of the jousting-grounds. The stands were filling up with common people – a double handful of druids in twos and threes mixed throughout. Some of the nobility – from Camelot and from other kingdoms – who'd chosen to be present for the unprecedented occasion, but still keep their distance.
Gwen dropped her chin, feeling the slide of curls she was letting grow out, over the silk back of the dress. Not even their royal wedding had drawn such a diverse crowd – though maybe some of the foreign dignitaries had decided to give Camelot's new queen the once-over this month rather than last month, and see a baby dragon hatch at the same time.
Her eyes caught on one couple, seated on the lowest row of benches – well, Elena was seated, on a cushion, and Gwaine was leaning over both elbows propped on the wall that protected the audience from the violence the lists usually exhibited. He'd probably crowd right up to the egg if it was up to him, but. Almost six months he and Elena had been married. And though neither said anything, the way Elena's hand draped over her belly – the way her figure swelled just enough to wonder, the way they both beamed – made Gwen guess, there was a good reason for them to choose a seat in the stands.
One month she'd been married also, to the king of Camelot. It made her feel hot and cold at once to contemplate motherhood – but she did wonder when that might be her blessing to anticipate, too.
The lord and lady of Gawant weren't alone, though. Beside them sat attendant Elena's maid that had traveled with them, and another guard wearing the chevron tabard of Gawant. They'd been introduced to the fresh-faced young man as a magic-wielding friend of both Merlin and Gwaine, from their time as fugitives – it made Gwen think of what Alice had told them about the threads of destiny, separating only to join together again.
Vivian and her husband Lord Balan. And behind them, Gwen recognized Orryn and his family – Tobe standing on the seat which brought him almost to his father's height; their similarly fuzzy-curly hair haloed in the morning light.
Gwen smiled, remembering how excited Tobe had been at the arrival of the dragon-books Mithian's family had sent as part of the Yule present for the princess who'd remained in Camelot with her betrothed. And how Merlin's eyes had twinkled at Gaius over the books Tobe was too eager to read to realize he was being educated by the young sorcerer at the same time.
Just next was young Prince Gunnor, brought by his grandfather King Rodor, along with his uncle's family from Nemeth, since evidently his mother – the next queen – was too close to her time of birthing for them to travel. Gwen had been satisfied with the genuine pleasure with which the prince and Merlin had greeted each other, and Gunnor and Tobe had been seen in company since their arrival - usually with Merlin, so Gwen hadn't concerned herself with their antics.
"He isn't here yet." A soft voice cut through the babble of the crowd close to Gwen's elbow.
She turned to see Ally, dressed demurely in the dove-color she favored, her hand tucked into the bend of Lancelot's elbow. He looked down on her, but she met Gwen's eyes, and Gwen wasn't sure which of them the young sorceress was addressing – or who, exactly, she was referring to.
"Neither of them are," Gwen answered, casting another glance around.
"Urbert planned on speaking to the king before the ceremony," Lord Bernard said, moving into Gwen's view from behind Lancelot. His hands tucked behind him and his hair queued against the breeze, his sharp eyes scanning the gathered hundreds.
"Ah," Gwen said. Urbert and Agravaine had not given up trying to persuade Arthur to smash or bury the egg – if they hadn't button-holed the king, then he was busy ducking them. It wasn't as though Merlin would do anything til Arthur arrived, anyway.
"Please excuse me," Lord Bernard added. "I see Lord Isdern, and I should speak to him about re-drawing the border after the floods in the mountains this spring."
"Would you like me to –" Lancelot began.
"Of course," Bernard said, gesturing politely to his future son-in-law. "By all means."
Gwen couldn't read the nobleman at all, but Arthur and Merlin weren't worried that the lord of Descalot had found anything to disapprove of in his daughter's betrothed. Lancelot and Ally had agreed to a full year before the wedding – to give all three a generous chance to adjust to the idea, Gwen sometimes thought. But no one yet doubted the marriage would take place; lady and knight were so obviously in love.
This time, though, Lancelot relinquished Ally with a respectful inclination of his head, following Bernard. Ally gave Gwen a parting smile, happy and content, angling her body in another direction. "I see Hunith over there…"
And of course the young sorceress would be more comfortable with her cousin's mother – and Gaius and Alice, Gwen saw – than the ruler who'd replaced King Odin as her father's over-the-border counterpart.
"This is absolutely amazing."
Gwen turned again, already recognizing the voice of another visiting noble – one of the few brave enough to come down on the sand near the egg. And maybe because the big knight she was betrothed to, made her feel brave.
"Lady Sarra," Gwen said, smiling. "Isn't it a beautiful day to hatch a dragon?"
She'd worried, in spite of Arthur and Merlin's optimism, that Percival's abrupt betrothal to such a young stranger, might cool from the honor and safety of the moment toward regret and resentment. But after two days with Alined's representative to the gathering, Gwen was reassured. Sarra seemed level-headed for her age, pretty and graceful but by no means empty-headed – and quietly, lastingly thrilled to claim Percival. A friend and a body-guard, good-looking and strong, and she'd easily fall in love with him in a few years when she was ready. For his part, Percival was content to have his hand held; to be needed by such a sweet young lady as companion and protector. Perhaps it had begun as fulfilling his duty, but Gwen could see that they were comfortable together after the winter spent away from Camelot; Percival looked happy and his boyish grin spread often when he looked down on his little slip of a lady.
"I can't believe so many people came," Sarra said, spinning in place to look up into the stands, filling with people. Her light-blue silk gown contrasted handsomely with the reddish tint of her short hair. "I think my grandfather would have to order our people to attend something like this."
"I keep telling you," Percival murmured, "Merlin is nothing like Trickler…"
"And I keep believing you." Sarra beamed up at her big knight, who showed that wide sudden smile again in response. "When we get home, we'll have to think of a way to persuade my uncle to let us come to Camelot more often. And stay longer." She turned to Gwen. "And then one day, we simply won't leave again."
"We'll look forward to that day," Gwen told her honestly. Everyone liked Sarra, she was bright and kind and not arrogant or stiff at all. Gwen was glad she had Percival with her, in the court of a man who'd tried to sacrifice what he ought to have defended. She felt protective of the younger girl.
"There's Bors' family," Percival said. "He promised to introduce you to his daughters, remember?"
"Of course! Please excuse us, Your Majesty." Sarra bobbed a little curtsy.
Gwen smiled again to watch them go – an expression that chilled at the sound of the next voice approaching.
"There has been… some talk. Of course."
Camelot was packed full of people who'd traveled to see Merlin hatch the egg; Gwen didn't think a single bed in the whole citadel, or the pair of town-taverns, was left unclaimed. But standing here and alone, meant she was tacit hostess to everyone. She adjusted her expression to politeness and turned to the one woman present who equaled her in rank – and far surpassed her in experience and attitude, though Queen Annis had been perfectly serene as a guest. And Arthur held nothing against her, and no one minded Sir Morak, either, and there hadn't been so much as a whisper of rebellion from Caerleon. Gwen had watched him, but after the third time she'd seen Morak in company with Sir Brenner, she'd stopped watching and trusted.
"Talk of what?" Gwen said to Annis, feeling her spine straighten involuntarily, noticing that Morak had crossed the sand to speak upward to Gwaine, hands on his hips.
She noticed that the heir of Caerleon was escorting two ladies, one with curly brown hair and one with gray in her curly brown hair. Gwaine's mother and sister; Gwen had spoken with them, but nothing beyond formalities. They both seemed uncomfortable with the place or the company or both – Gwen still hoped for a chance to coax their guard down. Neither seemed anything like the good-humored and talkative knight.
"Sir Percival. Lady Sarra. The circumstances of the betrothal." Annis was sharp and forthright – stating provocative fact in hopes of learning something.
Gwen only shook her head. "People will always talk. Those who do, don't know Percival."
The other queen made a noncommittal sound, and Gwen had the feeling she was being scrutinized, rather than Percival or Sarra. It was uncomfortable, but at least Annis didn't seem to search for salacious tidbits to gossip about, but rather for understanding. Gwen didn't suppose she begrudged her that.
A quick footfall caught her attention a moment before someone collided with her – someone taller and stronger, bigger and harder. His arms wrapped her up to hold her close as his body rocked with her reaction, and the breath of his chuckle was warm on her ear. Arthur murmured, "Did you miss me?"
She twisted, feeling his chainmail armor through his tunic and her dress; it wasn't near as nice as just him and he knew she felt that way, but she liked that he demonstrated his love for her so publicly. And his grin warmed her inside, as much as the proud thrill of the sight of the kingly crown resting comfortably on his golden hair. He was magnificent, and he was hers.
"Every second that we're apart," she declared, letting her exaggerated enthusiasm mock them both.
Annis quirked a smile and drifted away to join Sir Morak, and Arthur released Gwen except for her hand. "I had to take the long way to get here; Urbert and Agravaine were trying to corner me."
"They should know better than that by now," Gwen responded. Arthur's one remaining relative didn't care for her at all, as a person or as his queen, both of them knew that, but at least he was rarely in Camelot, and ran his estate efficiently at all other times.
"Oh, look, Iseldir's here," Arthur added, his attention over her shoulder. "With what's their names… Shara? Shana? And that other one."
Gwen looked, but the druids that had caught Arthur's eye remained hooded in the spring sunshine, and she didn't recognize them. "Where's Merlin? And…" She realized she hadn't seen Mithian yet, either.
"Hm? He was right behind me – said he could magic us past Agravaine. I told him no…" Arthur turned to look back the way he'd come, and Gwen followed his gaze, to the corner of the arena, where mounted jousters would enter the lists.
"There he is," Gwen said, noting the unmistakable blue of Merlin's new jacket – a loose-flowing garment that fell almost to his knees; she and Mithian had made it for him during the winter when they weren't busy with Gaius or Geoffrey.
"Oh, for the love of…" Arthur cut off his exclamation of exasperation.
Gwen looked closer to see that Merlin was leaning up against the wall of the stands, just out of sight of most of the people gathered. The golden-brown of Mithian's silk skirt and sleeve were visible as she clung to him, running her fingers into the back of his hair, and they were… kissing. She swallowed a snicker, feeling her cheeks heat up as the sight of those two sparked her own imagination – and memory of such times when Arthur had backed her into a wall to kiss her thoroughly weak-kneed and breathless.
"They've got a week before their wedding," she reminded her husband.
That way, Merlin and Mithian had decided, those they wanted to stay for their vow-ceremony could stay after the dragon-hatching – Mithian's family, Merlin's mother and Lord Bernard, and their closest friends who didn't live in Camelot at the moment, Percival and Gwaine and their traveling companions.
"You think they'll make it?" Arthur retorted, then lifted his hands to cup his mouth and bellowed, "Merlin!" The sorcerer extracted one blue-sleeved arm to hold out his forefinger to them in wordless request for the allowance of another moment. Arthur added, "The egg's cracking!"
Gwen couldn't help glancing, though of course Arthur had only said it to provoke his friend.
But the comment served to capture the attention of the rest of the arena's audience, whoever had missed the king shouting the name of the last dragonlord. In that moment of gasped silence, when Merlin turned from Mithian to face them, the muted thud! thud! of immense wings slammed into the air of the lists.
Gwen's heart shot up to her throat. That sound would always and forever remind her of the week following the great dragon's escape – and Arthur nearly dying to save her life. No matter that Merlin had explained and apologized, no matter that she knew he had complete control over the enormous creature, and the great dragon no reason to attack Camelot anymore – her first instinct was terror. Arthur's hand enfolding hers was comforting – his left hand, which meant he wasn't gripping his sword-hilt in an apprehension of his own, as they blinked into the bright blue of the sky.
The shadow of the dragon swooped over them, wings curled to allow the great beast to alight on the open area just behind the stands where competitors usually erected their tents. As planned, and publicized – but the crowd seemed to react much as Gwen had, looking, she realized a moment later, to the king for reassurance.
And the king's wife, right next to him – which was her. Gwen forced her hand down from her throat to her side, and lifted her chin as the dragon settled himself and swung his head around to face them – or the egg, which was close enough that it probably made little difference.
And – fight the expression of shock back to serene dignity – the dragon bent his neck in an almost-respectful bow. Everyone watched Arthur do the same, though neither spoke.
Merlin joined them at a trot, tossing a salute to the great dragon – and taking the majority attention. His eyes were bright and he was fairly thrumming with energy, as he had been the whole week, after he'd brought the egg back from the ruined ruins, and visiting nobility and royalty had started arriving.
Gwen wondered if Mithian had kissed him to focus or distract that energy.
"Shall I just –" Merlin said to Arthur, gesturing at the egg.
"It's your show," Arthur answered, pulling Gwen's fingers to the crook of his elbow, and tighter against his ribs with his shrug.
Merlin turned, lifting his eyes to the stands, dropping them to those who were brave or privileged enough to draw closer to the egg at the center of the lists – Percival and Sarra, Lancelot and Alayna, Annis and Morak, Mithian's brother… Mithian arm-in-arm with Hunith, beside Gaius and Alice.
"I'm not used to making speeches," Merlin said clearly into the hush of expectant silence. "That's Arthur's responsibility, usually… But I want you all to know how incredibly grateful I am, to have this chance. To be here with all of you – my friends… my king and queen."
He turned, and his heart was brimming in his eyes even through a brilliant grin. And he bowed – deeply and sincerely – to Arthur; Gwen felt her husband's breath catch, though the sardonic half-smile didn't slip from his face.
"There was a time," Merlin continued, straightening to address the crowd again, "when I would have kept this egg hidden. When I would have hatched it alone, and in secret, somewhere deep in the woods. But now… it seems I'm going to trust everyone, with this new little life. Please – be kind." His voice slipped, and Gwen's eyes were welling a bit, too. "Please, be patient. With this dragon – with that one…" Wryly said, and with a wave to the great creature towering over the stands, who huffed a small cloud of smoke and rolled its great eyes. "And with me."
He paused. It was so quiet Gwen could hear the sand rubbing under his heel as he turned to step close to the egg. He crouched, extending his hands as if the egg was a campfire to warm them by.
"Aithusa," he said, the hint of a growl in his voice making a shiver chase a chill down Gwen's spine.
Well, after all… Dragonlord. She remembered something else, from her first meeting with her extraordinary young friend – Rough, tough, save the world kind of man. In disguise.
A crack raced across the shell's surface, forking, splitting – hesitating – then exploding outward in fragments.
And a tiny white dragon stretched wings and neck delicately. A last bit of shell wobbled atop the scaly skull, no bigger than a cat's, and Gwen resisted the urge to giggle – it was cute and majestic at once. Merlin's audible sigh halted suddenly, as if he'd had to swallow the involuntary overflow of emotion.
The entire crowd sighed.
"Aithusa?" Arthur broke the silence – and the tiny dragon swung around to cock a golden eye at him.
Merlin turned also, rising to his full height and swiping at his eyes – which didn't leave the new dragon. "It means, the light of the sun. Kilgarrah says that white is rare, and it's a good omen for the land we're building together."
He looked over his shoulder at the great dragon, just as the little white one leaped to Merlin's shoulder, wings spreading briefly, then settling with a shake and tremble. Gwen flinched at the sudden movement, but Merlin only shifted to accommodate the weight, twisting his head to keep Aithusa in clear vision. Gwen wondered if the claws were ripping the material of Merlin's blue jacket – and decided not to care.
"It's - perfect." Arthur cleared his throat, stepping forward. Pulling Gwen with him.
Aithusa eyed them a moment, then bowed his – her? – head in a bow every bit as solemn as it's great cousin's. Arthur returned the bow, and Gwen bit her tongue on a host of questions that occurred, as the others near them pressed closer – to see, to offer to touch, to voice those questions and more, all at once.
Gwen was content just to watch the young sorcerer who was such a unique person, even without the magic, such a special friend. He seemed ecstatic at the attention, comfortable at the center of the press of people as he never had been before, and Aithusa fairly preened. Mithian's brother Ybor had his curious daughter on one shoulder so she could see over people's shoulders, and Percival was down on one patient knee, Sarra standing on his leg with her hand curled around his neck for balance, beaming.
"Amazing, isn't it?" Arthur murmured in her ear. "When I remember – last year, what I thought about dragons. What I thought about magic…"
"I know," she said. How much they might have missed, had Merlin's destiny not brought him to them. Or if he'd been a different sort of person. "I know."
The great dragon startled the crowd like a school of fish, rearing back and breathing a burst of fire into the air, before taking to flight. Aithusa craned his – that question answered a moment ago, that information passed like wildfire through the people crowding the sand after the hatching – neck, coughing his own small flame in response and sending the people back a step.
Gwen shielded her face from the gusts stirred by those great leathery wings, and found herself drawn by Arthur's arm, a little apart. And now she could see, those who pressed close were few in number, most people content to observe from a few paces away, and move on, discussing the infant dragon – and related topics – with their companions.
"Your Highness," someone said behind them, and Gwen turned as Arthur did.
A young man with sharp blue eyes that looked too old for his face, and black hair brushing the lowered hood of his druid's cloak around his neck. His companion was hooded, a girl his own age with brown curls spilling over her shoulders. Shy – or at least self-conscious; she wouldn't meet Gwen's smile.
"You probably don't remember me," the young man said, a tiny smile tremulous at his lips. "I'm Mordred? You once saved my –"
"Mordred!" Arthur exclaimed, immediately reaching for the boy's hand.
Gwen began to remember a young boy with a druid's tattoo, bloody and feverish, but past Arthur's shoulder she saw Merlin's head snap around to hear Arthur say the name. And though his eyes were still bright with excitement, his smile was gone. He began to push between people toward them, his eyes on the younger couple.
"Of course I remember you!" Arthur continued. "I'm glad you came today."
"I'm glad we could come today," Mordred responded, with an odd little emphasis. His companion raised her eyes to Arthur with a flitting glance. "This is Kara, my… betrothed."
"Oh, congratulations," Gwen said sincerely, but the girl was looking at the sand again, clearly uncomfortable – and then Merlin reached them.
"Mordred," he said, and Gwen had never heard him use a tone like that before – so cold it was almost threatening.
Arthur turned to look Merlin fully in the face as if he were surprised, too, but their young friend never looked away from the druid. Aithusa was watching the pair from his shoulder with complete focus; Kara's head came up to stare at either Merlin or the baby dragon, Gwen couldn't tell.
"I didn't come to make trouble." Mordred showed his hands empty; his smile twisted slightly. "Why should I? I feel nothing but gratitude for King Arthur – saving me from execution when I was a boy, lifting the bans of the Purge…"
Aithusa leaned close to Merlin's ear, tucking his wings and curling his tail around Merlin's shoulder. Merlin paused as if he were listening, then slowly relaxed, as if he had changed his mind on something.
"Very few escaped the Purge entirely unscathed," he said. "I am sorry for your losses." His eyes flicked to the girl and he added with a warmer kindness, "Both of you. I wish it could have ended sooner."
"I wish so, too," Arthur added. "Are you two attached to a local clan? You intend to remain in Camelot, or –"
"No, we're traveling," Mordred said – calming as he switched his attention back to Arthur. Gwen decided she didn't want to understand the causes and nuances of the strange tension between the druid and the dragonlord. "To the Western Isles. Start a new home, and a new life."
"Well," Arthur said – maybe oblivious to the relief that relaxed the set of Merlin's shoulders, or maybe just ignoring it, "if you ever return, we'd be happy to hear that you're doing well."
"Thank you," Mordred said, with a respectful bow of his head. "I also wanted to say, I was sorry to hear about the Lady Morgana."
Which seemed to threaten to freeze Merlin right back up again – if not for Aithusa cooing something incomprehensible into his ear. Could he speak already? Or only in the dragon tongue?
"Thank you," Arthur said, his voice roughened slightly with genuine emotion – remorse, regret, maybe. "I still miss her – she was… very special. I wish her life could have… been kinder to her."
"So do I," Merlin murmured, like a confession.
Mordred darted him a sharp glance from inscrutable blue eyes, but Merlin's head was down as if he felt that remembered defeat. The inability to save Morgana – after Fyrien, or before Morgause had so influenced her against Camelot.
"So do I," Gwen said, because she still wondered, sometimes, if she couldn't have offered more support. If she'd known…
"It was not to be," Mordred said – glancing down at Kara, who tightened her grip on his arm as if to comfort him. "But I suppose – it's best to leave the past in the past. Especially when there are such signs for hope and unity in the future."
He gestured to Aithusa, who stretched his nose closer to Mordred's fingers – and Merlin's grin was sudden and brilliant and real.
"Fare you well, my lord," Mordred added, bowing once more. Kara met Gwen's eyes with a little curtsy, and a soft almost-smile – then both druids turned to depart. And when Mordred reached back to lift his hood into place, the crowd absorbed them.
"Well, that was – interesting," Arthur said, looking at Merlin in a way that made Gwen guess, he was going to demand an explanation later, when they were alone.
"That's a good word for what that was," Merlin responded, finally dropping his eyes from the disappearing pair. And jumped as a feminine arm in a brown-gold silk sleeve slid around his ribs, under his elbow – followed by Mithian's wide smile at his shoulder.
"Oh, there you are," the princess said. "I've been trying to get closer to you…" Merlin grinned in a self-assured sort of way and the princess added, deliberately teasing, "Aithusa."
Merlin tossed his head back to laugh, and Arthur grinned in approval. The dragon cocked his head, then leaned forward toward Mithian curiously.
Gwen couldn't help thinking about motherhood, and the next generation. And if – when – there was a new heir, he'd be surrounded and supported by the best of his father's men, and their women – and their children.
Another crown prince, and another young sorcerer… and the story would continue.
But, Gwen thought, as Merlin and Arthur turned back to the eager members of the crowd, and the noise rose again around them – their story wasn't near over, yet. And she couldn't wait to see what else destiny might have in store.
.
.
.
A/N: I don't like to write "The End" because I don't think it ever really is, the end. But that's all I'm writing for this arc, except for a bonus chapter that goes several decades into the past, which I'll post after this chapter tomorrow, probably. Thanks very much to everyone who joined me on this journey – and especially those who supported my efforts with reviews and favorites and so on!
Starting in two days, I'll be busy with NaNoWriMo and another original fic. But I have a collection of shorter magic-reveal stories that I'll be posting under their own heading "Revelations," that will get us through November, and maybe the end of the year.
Then I plan to do a modern a/u that will feature abused!Arthur and private-investigator!Merlin, and commercial magic. "The Penned Dragon", where people can pay to have the Veil brushed aside and spend an hour with lost loved ones…