Disclaimer: I own nothing save characters not appearing in King Arthur. This story is not meant to insult, impugn the dignity of, or otherwise cause difficulty for the reader. Flames will be used to heat my house, constructive comments will be welcomed and used to improve the story.
Author's Note: Thank you, thank you, thank you for all of your wonderful reviews. I'll admit to being a little worried about the smut between Tristan and Nadège. Here's more and please, please, please, keep those reviews coming. Responses to your wonderful comments are at the end as always. Enjoy!
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Who Wouldn't Want A Sarmatian?
Chapter Thirty-Six: Results
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Vanora rubbed her neck as she gazed upon the remnants of the festivities the night before. It had been a grand party and Galahad and Zaria had both been the belles of the ball. In fact, no one save Bors and she had noticed when Tristan and Nadège slipped off and then returned a candlemark later looking decidedly flushed and mussed.
Of course it was expected. Weddings and handfastings were notorious for stirring up the sort of feelings that often led to a rise in the birthrate. Vanora chuckled evilly as she glanced back up the stairs at her sleeping husband. Maybe there could be more weddings?
She shook her head and started towards the kitchens where she could hear pots rattling and a snatch of a tune coming from her Hibernian cook.
"Good morning," offered Brigid, glancing over her shoulder at her employer.
Vanora nodded and took a seat at the kitchen table. "Aye, good morning to you as well. What is for breakfast?"
Brigid grinned and headed to the fire, returning with a thick porridge that smelled of honey. "Here, try this."
Vanora dipped her spoon into the porridge and took a bite. Lifting her head, she nodded at the cook before proceeding to devour the porridge. She set her spoon down beside the bowl and stretched, her arms high above her head. "That was delicious."
Brigid grinned. "Good. And it's also good for women who are heavy with child. Sweet but not too sweet and not so spiced as to give them a burn in their stomach. I have a feeling that there will be a great demand for it in the coming months."
Vanora nodded, resting her elbow on the tabletop and her chin on her hand. "Do you miss it?"
Brigid looked up sharply. "Miss what?"
Vanora motioned back towards the tavern where benches were still down on the floor instead of neatly stacked on the tables. "Miss being a priestess. Miss serving the goddess all the time." One would have to have been blind to miss the joy and passion with which Brigid had bound Galahad and Zaria in the rite of handfasting, tying a cord of braided green silk around their hands and pronouncing them bound in the eyes of Gods and Goddesses.
Brigid sighed and stepped to Vanora, gazing at her friend across the tabletop. "Yes. But my goddess is a goddess of hearth and home, of war and of healing. I may not be dancing around a fire naked," she stifled a grin as Vanora's eyes widened, "but I have a home and I serve in other ways."
Vanora nodded, slowly getting to her feet.
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Galahad slowly came awake, pleasure rising in his body and wringing a groan from him. "Wha…Zaria?" he gasped.
A chuckle from further down the bed had him arching off the mattress. "Good morning, sleepyhead."
Galahad blinked, trying to figure out where he was. Where they were. It took him a moment to remember that they had been unceremoniously tossed into Galahad's room by Gawain and Dagonet with orders not to come out into well into the next day.
"Took you long enough to wake up," giggled Zaria before returning to her previous actions.
Galahad felt his eyes rolling back into his head at the things her mouth and hands were doing. "Up long?" he managed.
A giggle was the answer as she paused. "No, Galahad, my love, but you have been."
A moan was the only answer.
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Naeus Germanus reined in his stallion watching the fortress that was his home for the present. He had to find a weakness. If the queen were to die, then the pact between Woad and Arthur would collapse. But if the king had a child? That could hold the pact.
He thought back to the way that Arthur and his queen behaved around each other. They were truly in love. But they were both warriors. Things happened to warriors.
If the pact with the Woads failed, it would be ripe for Rome to once again step to the fore. The Pope was right-they had left too quickly.
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Gueneviere sighed and rolled over, her hands resting on her upset stomach. She swallowed the nausea that rose and forced herself to sit up. There was a tapping at her door and the queen knew that it was Nadège coming to fetch her for their sparring practice.
Gueneviere rose and quickly threw her dressing gown over her shift. Her husband stirred only slightly, his arm moving towards her side of the bed and only finding a rapidly cooling emptiness.
"My love," came the sleep-roughened voice of her husband.
Gueneviere touched his hair, lacing her fingers through his curls for a moment. "Go back to sleep, Arthur. It's time for my sparring practice."
Arthur nodded then quickly fell back to sleep. His wife stepped from their bedchamber to the outer room and opened the door. Nadège quickly entered, the Sarmatian already dressed in her breeches and tunic, weapons slung over her shoulders and buckled to her waist and legs.
"Good morning, my queen," offered the Sarmatian with a grin. The grin quickly faded. "Gueneviere? You do not look well."
Gueneviere swallowed. "'Tis nothing. A minor inconvenience."
Nadège shook her head, guiding the queen to a chair. "Of course it is." She stepped to the hallway and called for one of the servants, quickly ordering the man to get Brigid from the tavern. "And since we are currently not at war, the sick shall not fight. We'll just have Brigid see to you."
Gueneviere nodded weakly.
It was near fifteen minutes before Brigid came bustling in, her healing bag slung across her chest.
"The babies?" asked Nadège, eyes on the queen.
Brigid dropped her bag in front of the seated queen and crouched down. "Vanora's watching them. Gueneviere, how do you feel?"
Gueneviere cringed. "A little tired. A touch nauseous. And very full."
Nadège chuckled and quickly slapped her hand over her mouth to cover the sound at the stern look from Brigid.
Brigid sighed. "Gueneviere, remember when I spoke of a royal decree?"
Gueneviere cocked her head to one side, trying to remember. Once she had the memory, she nodded to the healer.
"I think it is safe to say that the heir to the throne now resides in your belly."
Gueneviere blanched. "But-but-but-I've been sparring up to now! What harm could have been done!" The young queen looked down at her belly in fear.
Brigid slowly straightened and sighed. "First off, Gueneviere, you haven't taken a blow to the belly in weeks. I've made sure that Nadège was careful."
Gueneviere looked to Nadège, who nodded.
"Secondly, from this moment on you are restricted to archery, just as Stasja is." The healer glanced at Nadège. "And from now on, you are her shadow. At least until the Woads can provide a guard."
Again, Nadège nodded.
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Tristan gaped at his lover. Not much could startle him but this woman could. His woman could surprise him like no other before her. He closed his mouth with a snap and stepped to her. "You are to guard the queen?"
Nadège nodded but did not pause in finishing the packing of her bags. "Until her cousin can be brought, yes. I will stay with her at all times, save when she is with the king." She flipped the flap of the bag over to cover the interior and looked up. "It will be for two weeks at most."
Tristan groaned softly. "It takes two weeks for her cousin to be brought to her? Where is this cousin? Rome?"
Nadège chuckled. "Not so far, love. She is in Caerleon. As soon as she arrives, I will no longer be the queen's shadow." She stepped into the comfort of Tristan's arms and looked up at the scout. "Think of it as if you are on patrol for two weeks."
Tristan groaned louder, dropping his forehead to the top of her head. "A patrol where I see you every day for two weeks," he groused.
Nadège giggled. "If you'd like I can wear a mask."
Tristan growled and lifted the woman in his arms from the floor. "When must you join the queen."
Nadège shook her head. "Now, my love. Let me down and as soon as I am able, I will do whatever you wish."
Tristan arched an eyebrow. That was an interesting promise. "Whatever I wish."
Nadège had turned back to her bag so she did not see the devious twinkle in her lover's eyes. "Aye, whatever. Now, be a good knight and I'll get Brigid to give you an apple pie." She kissed the knight on the cheek before sailing out of the knight's room.
Tristan stared at the door, his mind already planning for their reunion. "Aye, I'll be a good knight," he said to the empty air.