A/N: and so we get closer to the actual stuff that I sooooo sosososo wanted to do. :3
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Cuchulainn oversaw the preparations to his coronation. He had a great deal of sympathy for other kings and queens for having put up with this mess. He had taken the position as king unofficially and now he had to show everyone he was in this position and thus ruler, that he was officially Ireland's king. Thankfully, he wouldn't have to deal with Connacht being there, since they flat out refused the invite. In fact, he seemed to recall that they sent the messenger back with a few bruises on his face for even asking.
Emer walked over to him and wrapped her arms around him. "I know this makes you uncomfortable, Cu."
Cuchulainn smiled faintly and stroked Emer's hair gently, curling a lock of her hair around his finger. "Aye, it does. However, I'm willing to do it if the people are so adamant to make me take the position."
Emer looked up at him and smiled warmly. She leaned up and kissed him gently and pulled away. "I'll be with the other ladies, then, dealing with linens and things."
Cuchulainn nodded and looked around the main hall. They had been lucky that the hall hadn't collapsed entirely. They were able to put new wood in on such short notice and clean the soot from the stones. As they put up fresh banners and rugs, Cuchulainn went to the stairs and went up to check on the maidservants.
He found them working diligently to make the rooms nice and livable. They giggled and blushed becomingly around him when they saw him, causing him to chuckle softly. He would have to snatch one of them later for a nice bit of fun. He grinned as he thought about it, walking into a room where Emer worked diligently with other ladies. His thoughts about the maidservants gone, he could only stare at Emer with a small smile on his face, warmly beaming at her from the door. She looked up and smiled at him gently and waved before going back to work. When he was around Emer, he forgot all else around him. She was the one he chose to be his wife first and knew his decision was right, for she could capture his attention with but a glance his way and a smile.
Riders could be seen coming to the castle. Cuchulainn looked out the window and then ran down to the main hall. His best riders were saddling up to go greet them. He hopped on his horse as well and joined them. "Coming along, Cuchulainn?" grinned one of his riders.
"Aye, I want to see who it is. The guests haven't arrived yet and we have someone coming so quickly," he said, grinning.
They rode to meet the riders and came up beside them, Cuchulainn holding up his hand. "Greetings! And would this be the party for the Queen of Briton?"
"It is!" said Bedivere. He recognized him immediately for his face was still rather feminine.
He looked around the ground and saw one with his hood drawn up, but his face was dark, though not like that of a black man. Who was he? Right next to him was a smaller person, obviously female by the way her cloak draped over her body. She moved her face toward Cuchulainn and he grinned. "And the little queen graces our presence once again?"
Arturia pulled back her hood and Cuchulainn stared in wonder. She had not aged one day since the last time he had seen her. No, not even that. Not since the first time he had seen her! She didn't look a day older than sixteen and she had to at least be the same age as he was!
"Yes, it is me, lord Cuchulainn," said Arturia softly, gazing at him. Not for the first time he noticed how genuinely pretty she was. He face was stone cold, but for some reason that seemed to add to her mystery. A sort of challenge to make her visage crack. He'd seen her smile at him before. He'd seen the mask break down a little before, but never enough.
"Just Cuchulainn, lass, don't add the lord in. It makes me feel old," said Cuchulainn as he moved his horse through the barricade of her knights and chuckled. The knights let him through and he was able to get up beside her horse.
Her cheeks turned a vivid pink as she watched him come up beside her horse and grin at her boyishly. "Now you are going to be king, you should think about what you do in front of your people and what they will think of you a bit more."
"Aye, I know that well enough. However, I think you have the better idea of not caring too greatly about what they will or won't think about you," he said as he gazed at the gates. "I trust you'll enjoy your stay in Ulster, Arturia?"
Arturia's spine shivered suddenly. Cuchulainn blinked at her and leaned over, putting an arm around her carefully. "Better get you inside before you catch your death, then." He grinned deviously and leaned closer. "I still wear your little gift, little queen." Then, he moved away and rode through the gates ahead of them. Arturia's cheeks flushed scarlet as she watched him ride away, her heart pounding hard in her chest. The hero of Ulster, now to be crowned king of Ulster, was running away with her heart and she hoped he would notice it soon. The pain in her chest was becoming unbearable when she saw him.
When she was situated and settled inside the walls of Ulster, Arturia went walking out among the men. The soldiers all wore less clothing than that of her own men. The newest knights to join her, Gawain's youngest brother Gareth, who was a smaller young man with short brown hair and bright blue eyes, Calogrenant, a man with a very graceful air to him, and Garaint, all were joining the soldiers in their practice and enjoying themselves greatly. Bedivere kept mostly to himself and Gawain flirted with the ladies, as usual. Arturia watched them silently for a moment before heading through.
Arturia found herself having strange emotions. When she watched her knights enjoy themselves, she wanted to join them in their fun. When she watched Emer smile at Cuchulainn, she wanted to rip the woman apart. When she was alone with Cuchulainn, her heart hurt terribly. She was confused by these emotions and wondered why they occurred.
"A lady shouldn't be alone," said a familiar voice. Arturia looked over her shoulder and up to see Cuchulainn smiling at her. "Are you enjoying the warm climate?"
Arturia nodded and looked away. "I am."
Cuchulainn watched her a moment and reached his hand up, brushing his knuckles against her soft cheek. Arturia flushed and snapped her head around to look up at him. He was frowning faintly. "I've heard some disturbing things about you, little queen."
Arturia's chest felt odd, as though something died inside of it. "And?"
"You refused the hand of the Welsh prince. Why? You need a king, don't you?" he asked, continuing his odd torture on her cheek.
"I don't need a king. I wish to have a husband, however, but I do not care for Welsh princes," she said softly, looking up at him with those gold eyes of hers.
"Then, what do you wish for?"
Arturia gazed up at Cuchulainn and found the look of his face unreadable. While he usually hid whatever he felt behind a smile, his face was in a frown now and looked oddly concerned. He leaned down and held her face with both of his hands, looking directly into her eyes. "You haven't aged one bit since I first met you. You're the same age as me, maybe a year younger or so, but the same age still. Why have you not grown up?"
Arturia found herself in a very strange position. Her face was close to his and he was asking her to talk about her scabbard. She almost felt afraid to speak of it, as though it were a terrible thing and would make him dislike her. "It… it is my scabbard," she said softly, staring into Cuhculainn's red devil eyes.
Cuchulainn frowned more. "Scabbard? The thing you used to heal me with twice?"
Arturia nodded. "It keeps me from aging. With it, I'm practically immortal."
Cuchulainn's eyebrows shot up and he let go of her, crossing his arms in front of his chest. "Oh? Then, you don't really need an heir that quickly, do you?" He laughed and scratched his cheek. "No wonder you're not in a big rush."
Arturia wasn't certain how she should take his words. Was he making fun of her? She frowned faintly as she watched him stroke his clean shaven chin. Most men grew beards when they grew to be seventeen or eighteen. Why did Cuchulainn prefer to keep his face free of hair? She had her knights shave often, but Cuchulainn wasn't held to such a ruling.
"Cu?" Arturia felt the same chill come over her heart when she heard Emer's voice that she felt when she first saw the woman so many years ago.
"I thank you for your concern, Lord Cuchulainn, but I will marry when I feel I am ready. In the mean time, I will continue to rule as I have been." Then, Arturia backed away and hurried to find a good place to retreat to.
Cuchulainn watched the woman that had fascinated him so since he had first heard of her walk away from him for the umpteenth time. When would he have a chance to be alone with her? Would he ever have a chance? Did he even want one? When he remembered the rumors told of her, he could only think of her as a true monster. When he saw her, he could only remember the woman who had pleaded with him so dearly for his aid in saving all the land from a fate worse than anything ever in their history.
Emer walked over to him and put a hand on his arm. "Did I interrupt a conversation?"
Cuchulainn kissed his wife on her cheek gently and smiled faintly. "No, but she certainly ran off quick enough."
Emer looked after the retreating form of Arturia and shivered. "She makes me uneasy, Cuchulainn. Be careful with her. I don't think she's stable in her head."
Cuchulainn nodded. "Same, something about the rumors I've heard has to be true, but I don't want to believe it, for she is a good woman."
Emer watched Cuchulainn for a moment and looked away. "Because you've always been in love with her?"
Cuchulainn looked to his wife in surprise. True, he had been fascinated by the little queen, but he wasn't certain if he was in love with her. "As per usual, Emer, when I'm with you, I only see you," he said gently and picked her up against him, kissing her. He grinned at her as she pulled away and blushed. "And I see a wife that needs a thurough loving!" He laughed as she squealed when he flopped her over his shoulder like a sack of flour and ran off to the castle.
"Cuchulainn! Put me down! This is undignified! Ah!"
"Wait 'till you get to the bedroom, Emer!" he laughed. She squealed again and thumped his back as they disappeared into the castle.
As they left, a black clad figure emerged from the shadows and watched them as they went up the stairs. Then, he disappeared into the shadows once more.
The guests arrived soon after, getting to their rooms and getting ready for the coronation and the ceremony. When all had arrived, Cuchulainn came down for the coronation and let the celebration begin after they crowned him king. The knights from Camelot danced with various ladies from Ireland, the Irish lords conversing with each other over various politics. Cuchulainn was forced to listen to a little of this, but barely paid attention. He was more concerned with a black clad woman across the hall from him. The lace under-gown she wore was very distracting as it still allowed him a good view of her chest and stomach while covering it up.
He moved away from the Irish lords and went over to her, bowing gallantly toward her. "May I have this dance?" he said, winking at her.
Arturia looked up at Cuchulainn and took his hand. He led her to the dance floor and began dancing with her beside her knights and some of the ladies. "You don't socialize well, do you?" he asked, chuckling.
"No," she said.
Cuchulainn joined hands with her and pulled her closer as he leaned over her slightly. "Why are you being so cold with me? I don't think I've done anything to warrant it," he said.
Arturia watched him for a moment and moved away from him. She had been enjoying the dance, but she simply couldn't get near Cuchulainn. "You are married, lord Cuchulainn." Then, she walked into the crowd and disappeared. How, he didn't figure out, but she had fully managed to disappear into the crowd as if she were magic.
He wandered after her for a moment before he came to the kitchen door. No one was even paying attention. They were all enjoying themselves and dealing with their own problems and the like. He smiled faintly. At least they could enjoy themselves. He, meanwhile, had to deal with his own battles.
Hands came around him and covered his mouth. He hit and slapped at the strong arms that held him captive until the strange potion covered cloth over his mouth made him feel sleepy. He groaned as his eyes rolled back into his head and sagged against his attacker. His attacker then quickly dragged the new Irish king away and disappeared with him.
No one noticed that the main reason for the occasion had disappeared. They continued their merry making until Emer began asking where her king had gone off to. They searched the castle for him, but could not find him. They went out of the castle and into the village to find him and even searched the homes of some women for him. None could find him. It was as though he had simply ceased to exist.
Emer, worried, wanted to send men outside of Ulster to look for her husband, but decided to wait to see if he would come back. She knew he didn't like being at the party and knew he simply wanted to be unseen. Might he have gone for a while to be himself once more rather than the new king of Ireland as he knew he was now?
When the guests left for their homes, she sent them off with food and drink. She sent off the men from Camelot with a fond farewell and did her best to be friendly towards their queen. She knew of her husband's affection toward the little queen, but felt a strange chill come over her whenever she gazed at the little woman. It was as though someone were wishing her death.
When all had left Ulster, Emer went and did the job of her husband, Cuchulainn, for him while he was away, hoping he had gone off to be Cuchulainn and live wild and free as he was meant to be instead of imprisoned like a caged beast as the position would force him to be.
A black clad form rode into Camelot. The guards recognized him as the Queen's servant. He had a large cloth back draped over the back of his horse and had a large blanket draped over the bag to keep whatever was inside it warm.
He rode up to the castle slowly and dismounted at the stables. He picked up the long bag and put it over his shoulder like a sack of potatoes before trudging up the steps into the castle and then up to his queen's quarters. There, he deposited the bag and pulled the tie. A blue haired man that was slightly older than him by maybe a couple of years fell from the back. He was still drugged and Emiya planned to keep him that way until his mistress arrived. Then, he shackled him up to the wall near the fire and left him.
