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I do not own Merlin or the characters, neither do I own Royally Screwed.
Last chapter...with a promise of an epilogue in a few days.
ARTHUR
Getting out of the State House was a shit show. Security had a hard time keeping the public and the press off me.
Literally, there was grabbing, handshaking, attempted hugs and blown kisses. And everyone was screaming congratulations or curses...even questions...or all three at the same time.
The world has gone completely mad.
And I can't remember ever feeling so happy.
Or so bloody free.
I felt like I could leap over the lot of them.
Like I could fly if I had to.
Because every step was taking me closer to home.
To Guinevere.
I could practically taste her on my tongue. And I swore...every breath I took...smelled like roses and jasmine.
On the sidewalk, standing near the car, my driver grasped my shoulder and yelled in my ear,
"The Queen has ordered us to bring you to the palace!"
I nodded.
Then I smacked his hand upward, sending the keys in the air before catching them.
"I'd best drive, then. That way, you're not disobeying orders."
"S-sir, please…The Queen..." he stuttered.
"Get over it! We're going to the airport. Call ahead if needed, but I want the plane ready for takeoff the moment we arrive."
At that, I pushed my way into the car.
The door was still opened when a handful of security...and Gwaine...gathered around.
"The airport will be mobbed, Your Grace," another security man argued.
"Then you lads should climb in...I may need your help getting to the runway," I said.
A different man tried,
"Sir, you can't just..."
"But I can." I laughed, feeling almost delirious. "Isn't it bloody grand?"
Once I started the car, they all stopped arguing and jumped the hell in.
Gwaine sat beside me in front.
"Where's Andrew? Did we lose him?"
"He'll be fine," Gwaine assured me. "He's getting pelted with questions, but the men have him covered."
I nodded, then rolled the car through the human sea, and floored it, once I was on the open road.
Mixed in with the joy was an urgency...a determined need pushing at my back like a gust of wind, because I can't wait to see Guinevere.
To hold her and kiss her until she can't stand.
To make it alright again.
To begin this new, different life.
A life with her.
Nearer to the airport, I honked at the car in front of us, who seemed to think they were out for a Sunday drive.
And my mobile vibrated in my pocket for the twelfth time.
I didn't need to look to see who was calling. So I gave it to Gwaine and said to him,
"Keep this safe for me until I come back, will you?"
With a knowing smile, he asked,
"When are you coming back?"
I laughed again.
"I don't know."
And it was a beautiful thing.
"You should take my plane," he offered. "Her Majesty's already going to be furious. If you hijack Royal I, she may sic the air force on you."
I chuckled. It was good to have friends.
Friends with their own planes was even better.
As we pulled up to the airport, Morgana called Gwaine's mobile. And after a moment, he put her on speaker.
"Arthur?"
"Yes, Morgana?"
"I've never been so thrilled to be proven wrong. You're not an idiot after all."
"Uh…thanks..I think."
"Be sure to tell Gwen I said she's a Fleeing Bitch, but I forgive her. And you two must come for dinner when you return, okay?"
"You can count on it."
An hour later, I was in the air on my way to New York. And about five...six hours later...I was within proximity of the woman I love.
The streets were empty in front of Emily's when I walked up to the door.
The air eerily silent, like a surprise birthday party...like those moments just before the guests jump up and scream, scaring a year off the guest of honor's life.
The shade was drawn in front of the picture window, and inside looked dark.
I was starting to think, maybe Guinevere didn't see the press conference after all.
My stomach roiled, because, it was also entirely possible, she wasn't even here.
Perhaps she went…out.
A toxic mix shuddered in my gut, at the possibility that she went out with someone. A man who'd help her drown her sorrows and forget the heartache I'd brought her.
That thought had me pushing the coffee shop door open with more force than I had intended, and stumbling over the threshold.
The interior was dim...but not dark, as I had originally thought.
It was illuminated by a single candle...
At a table…where Guinevere sat.
And my entire being exhaled with relief.
I took several moments to just look at Guinevere. Soaking in the vision of her dark, swirling hair...so beautiful and shiny, even in the candlelight.
The way the glow of the flame danced across her flawless brown skin, highlighting her heart-shaped face, her high cheekbones, her soft plump lips...which have possessed me from the start...and her lovely, brown, almond shaped eyes...that owns my soul.
She watched me too...unmoving and wordless...as she stared...enough to make me wonder, what gloriously filthy thoughts were fluttering through her mind.
The door slowly swung closed behind me, as I stepped farther into the room.
"It's a quiet night," I said.
Because those words came easy...as opposed to the backlog of confessions and apologies that were fighting for prominence in my throat.
Guinevere blinked.
Almost as if she was just grasping that I was real...that I was here...and not a vision she had imagined.
"Percy worked with the NYPD. Together, they set up a three-block perimeter around the shop," she said.
I nodded, not taking my eyes off her. And there was an excellent chance, that I will never close them again
Sleep is overrated.
"Ah…that explains the barricade," I said.
"Yes."
Slowly, I drew closer to her.
"I've missed you."
The slight dip of her chin, and a gentle nod, was the only response I got.
I rubbed the back of my neck.
"Did you…did you watch the press conference?"
Her face changed...suddenly softening at the corners of her mouth, her gaze heating.
"Yes."
I took another step, slowly, barely reining in the urge to take her into my arms and make love to her against the wall, the floor and on top of every table in the room.
But before we got to that, there were things which must be said.
Things, she deserved to hear.
My voice was a raw whisper when I said,
"Guinevere...about the things I said...the night you left. I'm..."
"Forgiven." Tears welled in her eyes. "You're completely forgiven. You had me at 'horse's ass' during your speech."
With that, she threw herself into my arms, and I buried my face in the hollow of her neck, inhaling the sweet scent of her skin...roses, jasmine...and her.
My lips traveled up across her jaw, finding her mouth, feeling the wetness of her tears against my cheek. And then our mouths were moving together, tasting and delving...wild and demanding.
This was no sweet, storybook reunion.
This was raw and desperate and unadulterated need.
Being away from her, knowing how close I came to truly losing her, made me rougher than I should've been.
But my hands pushed through her hair, and across her back, holding her tight against me, feeling every breath that shuddered through her.
She moaned into me...I tasted it on my tongue...her hands tugging on my hair, her legs wrapping around my waist, squeezing like she couldn't get close enough.
Like she would never let go.
And everything about it was perfect and right.
After a time, the desperation ebbed and our kisses slowed. And I felt Guinevere's soft hands stroking the planes of my face gently.
Next, her forehead came to rest against mine. And we gazed into each other's eyes, breathing the same air.
"I love you, Arthur," she whispered, her voice trembling. And with that, more tears fell down her cheeks. "I love you so much. I can't…I can't believe you gave all of that up. How could you do that?"
She was crying harder now and I realized...she was grieving for me. Because somehow, she thought that I had lost something.
I set her on her feet, brushed back her hair and wiped the tears from her face.
"It was the easiest thing I've ever done. When I stood up there, in front of all those cameras, it was like when they say your life flashes before your eyes as you're dying. I saw all the years ahead...and not one of them mattered worth a damn. Because I didn't have you there with me. I love you, Guinevere. I don't need a kingdom if you're beside me...because I already have the whole world."
"That's so beautiful..." She sobbed, then gave a watery smile. "...and really cheesy, too."
And there…there it was...that stunning smile that always hits me right in my heart.
And my manhood.
She rested her head against my chest, her arms around my waist, and we stood just like that for several minutes.
Until she asked,
"What happens now?"
I kissed the top of Guinevere's head and leaned back.
"Well…I'm out of a job," I started, then stepped backwards, grabbing the HELP WANTED sign from the window. "So, I was hoping the dishwashing position is still available..."
Her eyes sparkled. And it was one of the most gorgeous sights I've ever seen.
"Have you ever actually washed a dish?" she asked.
"Not one." I pecked her lips. "But I'm a very eager learner."
"And what about us? What happens with us?"
"We can do anything we want. Every single day of the future is ours."
I sat down in the chair, pulling her onto my lap. She toyed with the back of my hair, thinking it over.
"I want to go to the movies with you. And to the park. Even if security has to tag along. And I want us to lie around in bed all day and order takeout..."
"And walk around the apartment naked," I added helpfully.
She nodded and said,
"All the normal things couples do when they're dating."
"It would be an interesting change of pace for us."
Her fingers massaged and rubbed at my neck.
And it felt amazing.
"So, we'll take things…slow?" she asked.
I brought her head down closer, whispering, just before I kissed her,
"Sounds perfect. I like slow. And you are going to thoroughly enjoy how I do…slow."
Eight months later...
Slow didn't exactly work out...
"I now pronounce, henceforth, that they be man and wife. You may kiss your bride..."
I didn't have to be told twice.
I lifted the gauzy veil trimmed with lace, cupped Guinevere's beautiful face in both hands, and pressed my mouth to hers.
Reverently...at first.
Then I kissed her deeper.
Hungrier.
Lost in the taste and feel of my sweet new wife.
She giggled against my searching mouth. And Andrew whistled inappropriately beside me, making Gwaine cough to try to cover it.
Then the church bells rang...rattling our bones, and signalling the congregation to stand.
After that, I escorted Lady Guinevere down the aisle.
She was a vision in her dress...a strapless, lace confection, cinched at her tiny waist, long in the back...the train taking up almost the entire length of the aisle, and carried by half a dozen little flower girls.
Outside, the crowds cheered, waving silk flags, white flowers and banners.
The sun was shining, the sky was blue and doves were literally flying through the air.
It didn't get more perfect than this.
I led Guinevere down the gray stone steps to the open, gold-trimmed, horse-drawn carriage...we only take them out for really special occasions these days.
And this was certainly one of them.
Once she and her gigantic train were nestled in, we waved our way through the streets, celebrating with the entire country.
And this time, I didn't mind the cameras.
Not even a little.
Eventually, we pulled through the palace gates and I helped Guinevere down.
Twenty footmen...in full military dress...flanked us.
Their swords singing through the air, when they were unsheathed and raised, forming a silver bridge that glinted in the sunlight, for us to walk beneath.
Then it was upstairs to the gold ballroom...where hopefully, we would be able to eat and drink something before we both died.
After that, we will step out onto the main balcony of the palace, where the Queen will officially present us to the country with our new titles.
From then on, it would be pretty much a public make-out session, if all goes well.
My grandmother was spot-on about the magic of a royal wedding...which is why she didn't give us even a little resistance, when Guinevere and I told her we were getting married three months ago.
All she asked, was that she be allowed to take care of the arrangements. And considering we weren't sure, if we'd even be able to pull off a city hall wedding in such a short time, we gave the Old Girl free rein.
And she came through spectacularly.
In the last few months, Christoph had discovered, it was Arabella Ashbury who had leaked the story to the Daily Star...her way of punishing me, because she felt I had failed her when we were young.
But since then, the press has had their hands full with positive reports on the royal family. I mean, who doesn't enjoy a good 'abdication of the throne for love' story?
And the people were overjoyed.
They adored Guinevere...not quite as much as I do...because that would be impossible. But close.
Guinevere, her father and I, have turned Emily's into a nonprofit in the States. A string of 'pay what you can' restaurants, where anyone can come in, sit at a table, and enjoy good food.
They can choose to work off their bill or leave what money they're able to...or none at all.
And we've opened a second restaurant in the Bronx, with two more on the way next year.
With the public firmly devoted to their royals and the media for once on our side, Parliament in Camelot fell into line and passed the legislation my grandmother and I had been working for.
Employment and wages began recovering and have been climbing steadily ever since.
It was a happily ever after for everyone...including Gwaine...who was making a killing with the Taylors' pie recipe.
Well…almost everyone.
I spotted my brother in the corner, scowling and sullen. It was the only look he wore these days.
Not in the self-destructive way like when he first came home...more in a bratty way that didn't overly concern me.
"Okay," Guinevere announced, handing me her glass of Champagne. "Before we head out to the balcony, I'm going to attempt to use the bathroom."
We both look down at the miles of fabric that made up her dress.
"Do you want some help?" I asked.
"No...the bridesmaids will take care of that. Women have a natural instinct for how to get these things done. Although, besides Morgana, this is the first time I've met any of those ladies. And now, I'm going to pee in front of them."
She reached up and pecked my lips, then added,
"Being married to you is weird."
"But it'll never be boring," I said.
At that, I sent her off with a swift pat to her bottom.
On her way, Guinevere passed her father, who was chatting with Gwaine.
Mr. Taylor wasn't a tuxedo man...I could tell by the way he rolled his neck and tugged at his collar. But the stiff formal wear, did nothing to dim the pride and love shining in his eyes, as he watched his daughter.
Adam, on the other hand, wore his silver-grey tux like he was born in it.
Guinevere walked by, giving him a smile and a thumbs-up. He winked at her...then went back to flirting with my grandmother's secretary, who was shamelessly reciprocating.
I don't think I'll be the starring act in Adam's fantasies for much longer.
While Guinevere took care of business, I approached my brother, leaning against the wall beside him, arms crossed.
"Congratulations!" he said, sulking. "Bastard!"
"Thank you."
"Gwennie looks gorgeous. Prick!"
"She does. I'll tell her you said so."
"I'm really happy for you. Wanker!"
I laughed.
"It's going to be alright, Andrew."
He drank from his flask, flinching as he swallowed.
"Easy for you to say. Prat!"
I squeezed his shoulder.
"Are you ever going to forgive me?"
He shrugged.
"Probably. Eventually. Of course I will. When I'm sober."
"Any idea when that may be?"
"Andrew, there you are!" our grandmother clucked from across the room. "We must speak about the memo I sent you…"
At that, Andrew lifted his flask and shook his head.
"Not today, brother."
Emma taylor intercepted my grandmother before she reached us, blocking her path.
She tried to execute a full curtsy, but the hem of her dress got caught in the heel of her shoe and she ended up almost falling on her face.
The Queen attempted to step back, but Emma grabbed onto her...wrapping her arms around Her Majesty's waist and holding on like a baby sloth clinging to its mother.
Charles jumped into action, trying to extract her.
"Miss Taylor, please! We do not tackle the Queen...it's not proper protocol."
He managed to save her from the outrage. And Emma stepped back, fixing her hair, then bending her knees in a quicker, shorter curtsy and offering her apology.
With an accent.
"Begging your pardon, Mum."
Oh hell!
"We haven't been formally introduced. I'm Emma, Gwen's sister."
My grandmother looked down her nose at her.
"Yes, child, I'm aware of who you are."
My new sister-in-law bubbled with excitement over the recognition.
"And I just…well…I wanted to thank you for the gown." She smoothed her hands down the champagne-colored silk. "Gwen said you paid for it and it must've cost a ton!"
"Indeed," the Queen uttered.
Then, Emma cupped her breasts in her palms, squeezing.
"And it makes my boobs look great!"
The Queen turned right away.
"Charles, get me a drink!"
Emma's hands fidgeted, as she searched for more words.
"And I'm just…I mean I'm so…"
Then she was tackling my grandmother again. Flinging her arms around her neck in a miniature version of a bear hug.
A cub hug.
"I just can't believe we're related!" she said.
Over her shoulder, my grandmother's face went from shock to dry, to begrudging acceptance.
"Neither can I."
The trumpets blared on the balcony over the sound of the crowd's cheers, as each member of our wedding party, and then the Queen, were called out.
Guinevere and I were the only ones left, with Barbara fluttering around us, doing last-minute checks.
"No lipstick on the teeth, veil is straight, remember fingers together when you wave, yes, yes…" she twittered.
She brushed my hair off my forehead and tried to squirt an offending rain of hairspray.
But I jerked my head back with a glare and she shuffled away.
Guinevere giggled.
And just a second later, I was giggling too.
"Ready, love?" I asked.
"As I'll ever be," Guinevere replied.
Her gloved hand slipped into mine, just as our names were announced.
"Prince Arthur and Princess Guinevere, the Duke and Duchess of Howden!"
We stepped out onto the balcony, as twenty thousand white rose petals fell from the sky. And the people applauded and shouted, holding up their cameras to take pictures.
The blissful energy blew through the air, dusting everything in a sheen of joy and sparkle.
Guinevere and I waved and smiled for a bit, and then with my hand on her waist, I dipped my head and kissed her, ever so softly.
"I don't think I'll ever get used to it," she said.
"All the pomp and circumstance, you mean?"
She shook her head, her eyes adoring.
"No."
"Being a princess and a duchess?"
"Nope."
"Then what?"
She reached up, leaning closer.
"Being your wife."
Emotion hit me hard, making my heart feel too large for my chest.
I stroked her cheek, because she was so lovely.
And because she was mine.
Then I whispered,
"Well, you'd better. We're royalty. That means…we're forever."
That's it for this story. As stated above, I will do an epilogue, but it will take a few days.
Until then, i invite you all...if you want to...to check out the new story I have posted along with this update.
Thank you and please stay safe!