Water always goes where it wants to go, and nothing in the end can stand against it. Water is patient. Dripping water wears away a stone. Remember that, my child. Remember you are half water. If you can't go through an obstacle, go around it. Water does.
- Margaret Atwood, The Penelopiad
It still felt strange for Merlin to be seated at the dining table, being served food and wine rather than being the one serving it. His fingers itched and his feet tapped against the floor as he fought the urge to leap from his seat and wrest the pitcher from the maidservant's hand so he could pour the wine properly.
It wasn't the girls fault - Constance was sixteen and the daughter of a seamstress, having only just come into the Queen's service. No one else seemed to find any fault with her; Gwen took every opportunity to tell the girl how well she was doing, and her dinner companions Princess Elena and the young Lady Nella, both being well born, were well practiced not to notice deficiencies in the servants of others. Only Merlin cast a critical eye, which he acknowledged was unfair, and perhaps merely to distract himself from far more troubling thoughts.
Gwen at least seemed happier - livelier than he'd seen her in months. She laughed heartily as Elena told an admittedly very amusing story about her debut ball which involved a flock of pigeons let loose in the hall, two shattered windows, and a visiting prince who'd ended the night with a shirt stained with wine and a broken leg.
"Of course, I was inhabited by a sidhe at the time," she explained to Nella, who had been listening to the tale rapturously. "It made me feel quite off-kilter in those days."
"A sidhe?" Nella breathed, her eyes wide. "Why was it in you?"
Elena and Gwen both looked to Merlin, but he didn't much care for telling Lord Cartigern's daughter about the ill intent of fae folk. He quickly shoved a forkful of beef in his mouth and made a show of chewing it.
"Well I'm not really sure," Elena covered smoothly. "But I was lucky to come here to Camelot, because Merlin was able to rid me of it."
"Oh were you?" Nella turned to him excitedly. "With your magic? Did you cast it out with a spell, or perhaps a potion? Did it fight you?"
Merlin certainly wasn't about to tell her of the sidhe staff hidden away in his quarters. Instead he swallowed, gave her a weak smile and mysterious shrug of the shoulders.
"Oh, it's a secret," Nella nodded, not at all put off by his reticence. "I understand. But it was so wonderful of you, and brave, when magic was outlawed!"
"Well." Merlin knew exactly how to turn the conversation away from himself. "I couldn't Elena go ahead and marry Arthur when she'd been enchanted."
Gwen gave him a somewhat exasperated look, but as expected the information sent Nella's curiosity into overdrive.
"Were you to marry Arthur?" Her mouth gaped in horror. "But…" She turned back to Gwen, as if outraged on her behalf.
"A scheme our father's cooked up," Elena smiled. "Arthur and I had one thing in common - that we didn't want to marry each other! Luckily at the handfasting ceremony he had the courage to speak up and say quite rightly that obligation was no foundation for a marriage."
She looked at Gwen. "And when I saw him look to a young maid in the crowd, I knew that even if I wanted to, I could never take his heart, because it rightfully belonged to another."
"Oh, how romantic!" Nella sighed, but Gwen seemed sad, twisting her wedding ring around her forefinger.
"I never knew that," she said quietly.
Elena put her hand over Gwen's. "You had been so kind to me, even though I was to marry the man you loved. That meant a great deal, especially back then, when people could barely conceal their disappointment in me."
"If they'd seen what I had," Gwen told her, "they would not have found you wanting."
Merlin wondered what conversations had passed between the princess and the maid assigned to her in the days leading up to the wedding. Evidently while he'd been chasing the pixie Brunhilde and hunting for bog flowers, Elena and Gwen had been forming a friendship. Merlin felt a pang of loneliness - he was happy for Gwen but it only cast into sharp relief the Arthur-shaped hole in his life that had yet to be filled.
The conversation turned to Elena's prize mare that had just foaled, and Merlin retreated to his own thoughts, which had become increasingly turbulent. A part of him had been relieved when Gwen had forbidden him from carrying out his plan to kill Odin, but a greater part was still consumed by anxiety at the approaching threat. Seeing Arthur's spirit at Samhain had at first been a comfort, hearing him express his pride and embrace Merlin like a brother. But afterwards it only caused him greater sorrow, for all that could have been; for the world Merlin and Gwen were building together deserved to have Arthur in it.
He couldn't help but feel responsible. If he hadn't failed to save Arthur, there would be no army forming to march on Camelot, Gwen wouldn't have the burdens that so weighed on her conscience, her child would have a father, and she a husband to share her joy with. Merlin had long decided that he could not fail again - whatever he had to do, he would do it, no matter the cost, he would pay it. He could not lose her too.
He'd been unable to summon Kilgarrah for advice - Merlin had tried calling for him several times now in the glade beyond the citadel, but the dragon had not come. Either he was too far away to hear his call, or there was something preventing him from answering. He'd feared that the dragon had passed on - he was old even when they first met - but Merlin was certain he would have felt it.
There was a knock at the door, and Gwen bid them to enter. It was a young page, who handed her a sealed letter, bowed, and then retreated again. As Gwen broke the purple wax seal, Merlin saw that it contained the imprint of a bear.
He cleared his throat. "My lady, surely such correspondence should be private?" He gave Nella a pointed look.
The young girl was cowed. "Oh, of course." She took her napkin from her lap and placed it on the table. "Thank you for inviting me to dine with you, your Majesty. I had such a lovely time." She stood and bobbed a curtsey to Gwen, and then to Elena. "Your Highness. It was wonderful to meet you."
"Lovely to meet you too," Elena said kindly.
Nella turned to Merlin and gave him a nervous smile. For a moment, he felt guilty for being short with her - she was barely more than a child after all, and not responsible for her father. But he still couldn't quite trust her, or condone Gwen's interest in the girl.
"I will take her back to her lodgings, my Lady." Constance stepped forward, and Merlin considered perhaps she would do as a servant after all, since she obviously knew when to make herself scarce.
"Thank you Constance," Gwen said, but when they were safely gone rather than turning her attention to the letter, she gave Merlin a critical look.
"You should be kinder to the poor girl," she said. "She so desperately wants your approval."
"Isn't yours enough?" Merlin was being petulant, he knew, but appeasing a teenager was low on his priority list. "You show her too much favour."
"She's pleasant company," Gwen argued, "and can't help who her father is."
"Who is that?" Elena asked.
"Lord Cartigern," Gwen told her with a wry smile. "Uther's cousin, and if you listen to Merlin, an enemy. And even if that's true," she turned back to him, "it doesn't mean his daughter is."
"I'm sure she has a good heart," Merlin conceded. "But you talk too freely around her - who knows what she may say to her father in passing, and what he may do with the information."
Gwen sighed and turned her attention to the letter - it was a conversation they'd had several times already, with no resolution.
"It's from Lady Vivian," she said aloud as she scanned the letter. "On behalf of her father." She pursed her lips and folded the letter again, placing it down on the table. "They are to remain neutral."
"Hardly surprising," Merlin said with a grimace. "She probably still holds a grudge."
"Against Camelot?" Gwen looked at him quizzically. "Why?"
"Ah…" Merlin realised that he'd never told Gwen all of that particular story. "Well you remember when Arthur was enchanted to fall in love with her?"
"Of course." Gwen coloured slightly, twisting her ring again. Elena leaned forward, intrigued.
"Well...Vivian was enchanted too," Merlin explained. "But we didn't have someone she truly loved on hand to give her a kiss..."
Gwen's mouth dropped open. "You never unechanted her? Merlin that's horrific!"
He shrugged helplessly. "I didn't know what else to do."
"So she's been in love with Arthur all these years?" Gwen leaned back in her chair. "Never knowing why?"
"Maybe not," Merlin said feebly. When said aloud, it did sound rather awful. "I heard she got married, maybe he was her true love and she snapped out of it!"
Gwen was distressed. "How many other enchantments never got fixed?"
"That was the only one," Merlin insisted. "I think."
"I must write to her and explain things." Gwen rose and moved towards her desk.
"What, right now?" Merlin jumped to his feet. "Gwen, you can't."
"Why not?" Gwen spun back around, suddenly angrily. "Simply because the Lady Vivian was an...unpleasant person, does not mean it is alright to leave her in torment!"
Merlin wrung his hands helplessly. "I know-"
"Gwen." Elena was still sitting at the table. "Merlin's right. Of course you must tell her, and help break the enchantment if it is still in effect, but do so rashly may damage Camelot's relationship with King Olaf further."
Merlin nodded, grateful for an ally. "If we tell them the truth now, that Alined was behind it all, they will no doubt see it as a desperate effort to win them to our side, and may drive them further away."
Gwen sighed, and he could see he was getting through to her. She bit her lower lip and shifted her weight from one foot to the other.
"Besides," Elena added. "They may blame Merlin instead, giving credence to Odin's claims that he and his magic are a force for evil in this kingdom."
Gwen fearful eyes shot to Merlin's face, and she clutched a hand to her heart. Not wanting to cause her further distress, he crossed the room and embraced her - although it was becoming rather difficult to do so with her expanding belly.
"If I thought it would help," he told her, "I'd throw myself on their mercy right now."
"No," Gwen held him tightly. "Elena is right, and I won't put you in danger." She pulled back, tears spilling onto her cheeks. "I'm sorry," she retrieved a handkerchief from her sleeve and dabbed her eyes. "I'm so weepy these days."
She moved to sit back down and Merlin followed suit, unsure of what to say. In such womanly matters he had little knowledge - even Gaius could not help him much in that regard, deferring to the midwife in all things related to Gwen's pregnancy.
"I promise, once this is all over," he decided to stick to the issue at hand, "I'll go and explain things to Lady Vivian myself."
"For now we should focus on our other allies," Elena said. "Annis and Mithian arrive tomorrow?"
"Yes." Gwen seemed much calmer, and even managed a smile. "We've got a banquet prepared, and I can only hope they can be convinced to help."
Merlin hoped so too – he'd fight Odin's whole army himself if it came down to it, but even he had to admit his limitations, and accept that he could fight on only one front. He'd poured over the magic books, asked Gaius for help, even reached out to the druids, but they knew nothing of splitting ones magic in that way.
But he was determined to keep looking until he found the answer. No matter the cost.
The royal burial vault beneath Camelot was a lonely place; Gwen's only companions the stone faces of former kings staring up from their effigies.
Even though Arthur's body had not been returned to Camelot, Gwen had felt it only right that a tomb should be constructed – that Arthur at least in spirit could lay beside his father and royal forebears. It had been for selfish reasons also, for it gave her something to visit, to stand beside in the cool, quiet vault. She could rest her gaze upon the marble cast of her husband's face and not feel foolish for talking to him out loud.
Even though Elena's presence had cheered her immensely, Gwen found her sorrow could not be dislodged completely from her heart. So she had come to the vault to see her husband, to draw strength from his memory for the hard road ahead. On Samhain when the veil had been thin and he'd held her in ghostly arms, Arthur had said he could see her sometimes, and only hoped he could hear her words too.
"I'm worried about Merlin," she said softly. "He sees enemies everywhere, and I am concerned that his fear is overriding his reason. I wish you were here, you would know what to say to him, what to do, how to win others to our cause when the outlook seems so hopeless."
Arthur had been an excellent orator - able to give rousing speeches to inspire his men in the face of overwhelming odds, and win allies through the sheer force of his personality. He exuded strength and confidence when addressing his council, his people, even his enemies, so none could doubt his resolve.
But that had been the facade. She'd known how he'd fretted in private, unsure whether he was making the right decisions and needing her reassurance.
"Worry is not a wise counsel." Gwen placed her hand on the arm of the effigy, as she had done so many times in life as she'd said those words. "I should take my own advice, I suppose."
She sat in silence for a while, waiting for an answer she knew would never come. What would Arthur's advice be, she wondered, what counsel would he give to her, if he could? In her heart of course she knew - he would say to trust herself.
"Your son is kicking," she said, pressing a hand to her belly. "He is strong, like you." The child had a powerful thump, and it made her long for Arthur even more, to hold her in his arms and place his hand under hers to feel the life they had made together.
"Your Majesty." A crisp voice cut through Gwen's reverie, and she turned to see Queen Annis standing at the entrance to the vaults. She was as formidable as ever, dusky red-gold hair unbound and falling around her shoulders, with an iron circlet on her head. She wore a dark blue travelling gown and fur cloak, the hem still stained with mud from the road.
Gwen hastily wiped the moisture from her eyes, smoothed down her rumpled gown and clasped her hands in front of her.
"Queen Annis," she greeted her. "Your Majesty, forgive me, I was not aware you had arrived."
"Yes, your men tried to have me rest and retire to the guest quarters before an audience with you," Annis said with a small smile. "But I need no such rest, and prefer to get the pleasantries over with as soon as possible." Her keen eyes appraised her, no doubt noticing her less than queenly attire. "But I apologise for catching you unawares."
Guinevere guessed that catching her unawares had been Annis' intention; that she wanted to assess Camelot's Queen without the trappings of court. Gwen could not hold that against her, and admired her boldness.
"You are welcome to Camelot, Queen Annis."
Annis walked the length of the room until she stood before Gwen, and cast her eyes onto Arthur's effigy. "So, the King is dead. Long live the Queen."
Gwen saw mixed feelings in Annis' countenance. Clearly, there was sorrow, and sympathy in her gaze, and yet neither woman had forgotten that it had been Arthur who had killed Annis' husband, and although that act had been forgiven, Gwen surmised it must be a strange, almost triumphant feeling to see the tomb of your husband's conqueror.
"I am sorry for your loss, Guinevere." Annis turned back to her. "Of all people, I understand your position. Although I had the luxury of ruling by my husband's side for many years before I inherited his kingdom, and so the task was not so daunting."
"It has been a steep learning curve," Gwen admitted, guessing that Annis would respect honesty over bravado. "I can only hope I am the Queen my people deserve."
"Hm." Annis was noncommittal, those hawk-like eyes examining her once again. "I see that the rumours are true," she gave a pointed glance at her swollen abdomen under her gown. "Camelot will have an heir."
"Yes," Gwen confirmed, placing her hands over her belly protectively. "And I will make sure that he has a kingdom left to inherit."
"I can also count," Annis said, getting straight to the heart of things. "Camelot's army remains weakened from your battle against Morgana and her Saxon horde. Even with the combined forces of Gawant, Caerleon and Nemeth, you would remain vastly outnumbered by Odin's alliance."
"I know what I ask is no trifle." Gwen gathered her resolve. "But I can promise that we would return the favour, if you ever had the need."
"And the spoils?" Annis asked, raising one eyebrow. "Assuming we claim victory, of course."
Gwen blanched - she had not considered that. "They would shared evenly," she said, clenching her hands together and hoping it would not show.
"And yet my army is the greatest in number," Annis said, her voice noticeably cooler. "Both Nemeth and Gawant are small kingdoms, their forces scant. Camelot once had the greatest army in Albion, but is currently much depleted. Were we to join your cause, my men would likely make up close to half of the combined forces. Therefore, our losses may very well be heavier. My risk is higher, and so my reward should be greater."
"I'm sure we could come to an equitable agreement," Gwen was slightly annoyed, what did a share of the riches matter? "But I would have hoped you would help because we are allies and it is the right thing to do, not solely because of what you may gain from it."
Annis' expression softened, almost into pity. "My dear, may I give you some advice?"
Gwen bristled, but forced a smile. "Of course."
"In war you must consider all factors. Lofty ideals and chivalry is very admirable." Annis took a step closer. "But I rule over the mountain lands that breed hard men, and they would rightly question why they are being sent to fight and die for a kingdom not their own, based only on a moral duty."
"That is not the only reason," Gwen spoke up. "Caerleon is in no danger now, but if Odin and his allies seize Camelot, do you think they will be satisfied with it? Or will they plunder our resources, enslave our soldiers into their army, and turn their eyes to other conquests?"
She put her hand on Arthur's tomb again for strength. "If Camelot falls, Odin will be emboldened, and seek to claim all of Albion for his own. But if we make a stand now, all together, we can break his alliance of kings that see our kingdoms ripe for plucking because they consider us as womanly and weak."
"Go to war to keep the peace." Annis appraised her again, the corner of her mouth turning up. "A strong argument, Guinevere."
"And a convincing one, I hope."
Annis' smile widened in amusement. "I cannot decide now. But I will think on all you have said, and give you my answer at the banquet."
Unfortunately, the banquet had to be postponed - a message had come that Mithian was delayed due to bad weather. She'd arrived with her retinue close to midnight, weary from the road and asking to be given rooms directly. Guinevere had sent her maid with a flagon of good wine to ease the chill of the journey, and ask if Mithian would receive her informally, so she may at least give her proper greetings.
But Constance had returned and regretfully reported that Queen Mithian was too tired even for that, but assured Gwen they would speak on the morrow. It had disappointed her, as Gwen had been hoping to know as soon as possible which way Mithian was leaning. While the meeting with Annis had gone well and she had been amiable over dinner, she still gave no hint as to her decision.
For some reason, Mithian's presence made her more anxious. There certainly was a good case to come to Camelot's aid, after Arthur had helped regain Nemeth from Odin's grasp less than a year ago. But Mithian, like Guinevere, was a new queen, and may be reluctant to commit her newly replenished forces to another fight.
Gwen thought back to another night she had lain in bed with Mithian in the guest quarters, when the then princess had arrived under the control of Morgana. Of course, Arthur had been beside her then.
She had learned early in their marriage that it was in the time after making love when he was the most open with her, when they would huddle close and share the deepest secrets of their hearts. She treasured those moments, the deep hours of the night in Arthur's arms, when the weight of his duty left him and he was simply a husband sharing intimacies with his wife. That night, however, he had seemed troubled.
Arthur lay on his side, head propped up with one arm, gazing down at her. His other arm rested on her waist, fingers splayed across her belly and thumb drawing idle circles on her skin.
"I have to tell you something." He seemed reluctant, and she laughed lightly at his serious countenance.
"It cannot be that bad – you know can tell me anything," she reminded him, resting her hand over his.
There was a long silence, and he seemed to be studying her face. That in itself was not unusual, but his reticence was, and Gwen could only wait patiently to find out what was on her husband's mind.
"I was once betrothed to the Princess Mithian," he said finally.
Very few things Arthur told her in those late night confidences surprised her, but he had managed it this time. Unwittingly, her hand left his and went to her mouth, and she pressed the nail of her thumb between her teeth with slight agitation at her loss of how to respond. It was an old, nervous habit – one she'd thought had long been overcome.
"Betrothed isn't the right word," Arthur corrected himself, on her reaction. "I once made her an offer of marriage which I subsequently…withdrew."
Gwen didn't remember ever having heard about the Princess, other than in passing, and certainly not that she may have visited Camelot or been considered a potential bride.
"When was this?" she asked.
"Some time after I had…sent you away."
"I see." Gwen tried not to think of that time at all – it had been so hard on her that she had never spoken about it to him, and he thankfully had never asked. She had returned the favour, and not pressed him as to events in Camelot during her absence.
"I thought that if I couldn't be with you, I might as well marry for the good of the kingdom," Arthur continued, his arm tightening around her waist. "If I am honest…I was trying to forget you."
Considering the circumstances, Gwen didn't blame him. "So what happened?"
"I realised I couldn't," he said simply. "We were out on a hunt, and Mithian shot a deer, but we couldn't find the animal's body. What I found instead was your ring," he took her hand and rubbed his thumb over the band of silver on her finger. "And I realised that I had sent you out all alone into dangerous country, where anything could have happened to you – you don't know what terrible things went through my mind when I saw it there on the ground."
For Gwen the pieces fell into place. "So she was there with you…I thought she seemed familiar." She would never forget being trapped inside the body of that beast – of looking out through the doe's eyes and knowing that she was the hunted. Arthur, a dozen Camelot knights and yes, a woman in white all pursuing her, intent on her death.
"What do you mean?" he asked, clearly puzzled by her response. "Guinevere?"
"On that hunt – when I was shot," she told him. "I had been captured by Helios," she explained when Arthur looked more confused than ever. "And I saw Morgana visit him, when they were planning their attack on Camelot – that's how I knew about Agravaine and the siege tunnels."
"What?" Arthur interrupted loudly, raising himself on his hands and staring down at her.
"I tried to make it back, to warn you," she pressed on. "But Morgana caught up with me and cast a spell that transformed me into a deer." Gwen cast her eyes downward at the memory. "She was drawn to the cruelty of it, no doubt." Arthur clutched her hands tightly, but she did not look up to meet his eyes.
"After I was…shot, I passed out. I suppose the spell wore off, because when Merlin found me, I was human again. He treated me, and I gave him the message about Agravaine. Didn't he tell you this?" she asked finally, and looked up to see Arthur's hard set expression.
"No," he said lowly. "He didn't. Well, not about you, just about Agravaine." He sighed deeply and rolled onto his back, head pressed against his pillow. "I checked the tunnel plans and they were still there, so I didn't believe him. If he'd told me you were the source of his intelligence things would have been different."
"Would they, though?" Gwen asked gently, rolling onto her side and rubbing his shoulder. "You were so angry with me."
"I was a fool," he whispered. "It was all Morgana."
"Neither of us knew that at the time," she reassured him. "I should have had the courage to come back and tell you myself, regardless of the consequences."
He turned to look at her, and she saw the weight of regret in his eyes. "I never would have hurt you, Guinevere," he said softly, his hand reaching up to cup her cheek. "I was missing you desperately – as soon as I saw that ring I knew I could never marry another. It would have been a crime against my own heart."
"It's alright," she soothed him, and tenderly brushed his hair back from his forehead.
He gently pushed her onto her back, leaning over her again. "But I could have lost you so easily," he said with a note of desperation as his fingers caressed her face. "You were injured in the woods while I was courting another. If you had died, Guinevere…"
"I didn't," she told him firmly. "We are together now," she said, reaching up for him, putting her arms around his neck and drawing him down to her.
"Is that why you're troubled?" she asked, pressing a light kiss to his neck. "Do you think Mithian feels slighted?"
"No, we parted on good terms." His hand skimmed her side. "I uh...relinquished Camelot's claim on Gedref."
"What?" Gwen stilled his hand, drawing back to look at him.
"That was the purpose of the marriage treaty," Arthur explained, looking sheepish. "It seemed right to…compensate her for breaking the engagement."
Gwen blinked, unable to believe his flippancy. The dispute over the fertile lands of Gedref had been a source of conflict between Camelot and Nemeth for years - and Arthur had just given them up?
"What's wrong?" he asked, skimming his thumb over her lower lip where her teeth were sinking into the soft flesh.
"It's just…" She took a shaky breath. "You paid such a high price to marry me."
"Willingly," he told her with a smile.
"But you would have ruled Camelot and Nemeth both," Gwen pressed. "A fine achievement for any king."
"I'm content with what I have." Arthur kissed her softly, his hand resuming his earlier caress, and Gwen made no further protestations.
She turned over, her hand straying to Arthur's side of the bed, empty and cold. She had to stop doing this, Gwen told herself; retreating to memory to give her comfort, looking to the past to help her in the present. But she couldn't help herself, especially at night when there were no distractions, in the bed where she and Arthur had shared so much.
Nor could she seem to sleep; her back and hips were sore and it seemed impossible to find a comfortable position. Even if she did drift off Gwen would often awaken frequently to use the chamber pot, and then the process would start over again, with memories an all too convenient distraction. But even reminiscing about happy times with Arthur would fill her with sorrow, and she would weep into her pillow until she was wrung out and exhausted.
Gwen huffed and turned over again, curling in on herself and willing sleep to come.
Having dismissed the serving girl, Elena sat alone in the dining hall enjoying the solitude and cold venison that had been prepared for lunch. But it was not to last, as soon the great doors opened and Queen Annis appeared, surveying the empty chamber before taking a seat where a place had been set for her.
"Where is Queen Guinevere?"
"She awoke with some pains this morning," Elena explained. "And is still abed."
"Nothing serious, I hope." Annis poured herself some wine.
"Not according to the midwife." Elena had been worried when she'd gone to Gwen's chambers earlier, but she'd spoken to the woman herself who'd assured her there was nothing to be concerned about. "She simply needs rest."
"She is late in her pregnancy now," Annis nodded. "I remember such pains - to bring life into the world is no easy thing."
"You have two sons, do you not?"
"And a daughter." Annis helped herself to a serving of venison. "My eldest will reach his majority next year, so you will understand why I am reluctant to commit men to a cause likely to fail."
Clearly, Annis was not one for small talk - which was good, since Elena didn't like it either.
"I don't think we will fail," she said. "I trust my father's men to be more than equal to Odin's."
"You are young, Princess," Annis said wryly, "and have the luxury of inexperience. Guinevere is your friend, I believe?"
"Yes," Elena confirmed. "I would do anything to help her, as I know she would do for me."
"Such loyalty is admirable." Annis leaned back in her chair. "The Queen is a sweet girl, and clever, but I cannot sacrifice the lives of my men simply because I find her personally impressive."
"You had an alliance with Arthur," Elena pointed out.
"Because he proved himself to me." Annis took another sip of wine. "He had the strength of his father, but was kinder, and more honourable. And Guinevere, well...less than five years ago she would have been standing by that wall serving us."
Elena was surprised. "You put so much stock in ones birth? Arthur trusted her."
"Arthur fell in love with her." Annis smirked. "I can certainly see why, she's lovely, and from what I have heard, generous and good. But more than that is needed to rule a kingdom, as you may find out yourself one day."
"She's stronger than you think," Elena argued, offended on her friend's behalf. "Perhaps not on the way you are, your Grace. But she had the courage to restore magic in Camelot, to follow her own mind in the face of great opposition, and even now she stands firm in the face of Odin's threats."
Annis regarded Elena for a few moments. "You speak well in her defence."
"I know what it's like to be underestimated," Elena held Annis' gaze. "Laughed at, dismissed, not valued for the person I know I am. So does Gwen, and I believe we are both stronger for it."
Elena could see Annis was faltering, wanting to trust instinct over reason, even though the stakes were high.
"You want to safeguard your kingdom for your son," she pressed. "But what legacy will you leave him - to fight only when he knows he can win? Great kings are not made that way."
Annis gave her an amused smile. "That is true." She turned her attention to her food, breaking the bread apart with her fingers. "But great kings often fall, because they are always reaching for something beyond their grasp."
Elena picked a sliver of venison off her plate and popped it in her mouth, chewing it thoughtfully. Her father had made the same argument, but she had reminded him of his deep friendship with Uther - if he was the one asking for aid, would he commit his forces? He had smiled and patted her cheek as he had done since she was a child, knowing he was outwitted, and authorised her to raise Gawant's army.
"Even if I were convinced, we are still one Queen short." Annis said idly. "Where is Mithian?"
"Sir Leon is showing her the lower town," Elena said, clamping down on a smile. "Evidently she likes a market."
Mithian also seemed to like Leon, if the warm looks she had been giving him that morning were any indication, and although Elena had wanted to speak to the Queen since Gwen had not thus far been able to, she didn't think it wise to accompany them on the tour.
Annis asked no further questions, and they ate in companionable silence for a while, only broken when a fatigued looking Merlin stalked into the room and plonked himself down next to Elena.
"I'm starving," he practically growled, heaping his plate with venison and loading his bread with copious amounts of butter. Annis looked taken aback by his abruptness, but by now Elena was used to his ways.
"How is Gwen?" she asked.
"Oh." Merlin looked up, his mouth full of food. "Much better." He made an effort to chew and swallow. "She's insisted the banquet go ahead tonight."
"I'm glad." Elena made a mental note to go speak to the cook and ensure everything was prepared. She turned to Annis to enquire after her particular tastes so she could inform the cook, but found her staring at Merlin with that appraising eye. He seemed unaware of her intense gaze, still occupied with satiating his hunger and taking a large gulp of wine to wash it all down.
"You're the fool." Annis narrowed her eyes. "That followed Arthur into my tent the night before our champions fought. I've only just realised."
"Yes, that's me." Merlin confirmed over the rim of his goblet.
"And you had magic, even then?"
Merlin put down his wine and cleared his throat. "I was born with magic."
"You helped him." Annis' voice was crisp. "In the battle - that's why Derian dropped his sword. You cheated."
Elena was stricken, cursing Merlin's appetite. She didn't know what they were talking about, but it seemed all of her good work with Annis could be undone by some past slight.
Merlin's genial mask slipped from him as easily as water, and he eyed Annis darkly.
"I didn't cheat. I only used my magic to counter Morgana's. She was the one who made Arthur's sword heavy - at your behest?"
Annis seemed unsettled for the first time. "Yes."
"Arthur drew first blood in the fight," Merlin continued. "Unencumbered, he would have won."
Annis seemed mollified, and her scowl softened. "You must be powerful, to have defeated her."
Merlin gave a self-effacing shrug and took another sip of wine.
"Merlin is the most powerful sorcerer to have ever lived," Elena said, proud of Merlin even if he was not of himself. "Accordingly to Gaius, at least."
"Indeed?" Annis raised one eyebrow, lips quirking into a smile. "And yet you juggled for me, in my court."
"Well," Merlin smiled for the first time, lifting up his hands in a shrug. "I have many talents."
The banquet was sumptuous, the music was lively, and there was a frisson of hope in the air that seemed to chase away the sour, anxious mood of the past days. Sir Ector could see why - it had been some time since Camelot had hosted such a retinue; three ruling queens and a crown princess all united in common cause was a first for Albion, and there was a sense of history about it no one could ignore.
Queen Guinevere sat in the place of honour, Queen Annis seated on one side and Queen Mithian on the other. Princess Elena sat next to Annis, the two apparently highly amused by Merlin, who for some reason was juggling chestnuts. The knights of Nemeth, Gawant, and Caerleon was interspersed among those of Camelot, and if they fought as well together as they drank, then surely they were invincible.
His son Kay was in attendance; at ten he was squire to Sir Gareth, standing against the wall ready to attend upon his lord as needed. The boy's face was red with excitement, chatting with his fellows, snatching sweet buns from the passing servant's trays, and ever responsive when Gareth deigned to address him. For a moment, Kay looked over at his father, and Ector gave an approving nod, his heart swelling with pride.
His attention turned back to the rather engaging discussion he'd been having with Annis' man-at-arms Alwin, who carried an axe built from the same bluestone as Caerleon's castle, and which he claimed could shatter a man's skull like a melon. While he'd been quick to remind Ector that his queen had not made her decision, it was clear her men were spoiling for a fight. Ector was keen to see a demonstration, and elicited a promise that they would spar in the training ground the following day.
Of course, not everyone was in good spirits, and Ector glanced to his side where Lord Cartigern was seated, sipping wine and glowering. When Alwin left the table to relieve himself outside, Ector turned to his old friend.
"Why so glum, my lord?" he asked.
"Look at them," Cartigern scoffed, eyeing the Queen's table, where all four were now laughing heartily at Merlin, who had advanced to juggling satsumas. "Four peahens cackling in a row."
Ector took a large gulp of his ale, checking their surrounds to make sure they were not being overheard.
"Do you persist in your...opposition?" he asked quietly. After Samhain, he'd dismissed Cartigern's words as mere bluster, wishful thinking for a man who felt himself two heartbeats from the throne of Camelot. In truth, when the news had come of Odin's threats, he had wondered if that was what Cartigern had meant by plans being in motion, but he'd dismissed it outright. Or perhaps he had been willfully blind.
"If I did...would you join me?" Cartigern was looking away, by outward appearance they would not even appear to be speaking to one another. "We would not be alone."
"Others here at court?" Ector looked around, wondering who else Cartigern was gathering to his side.
"And outside."
"You mean?"
Cartigern shushed him. "Not here," he said, idly discarding a bare chicken bone onto the floor.
"But if this queen's alliance holds?" The odds were against them - if Cartigern was plotting from within and Odin invading from without., what hope did they have to stand against them? He knew he should politely refuse, and report the conversation to Sir Leon at first light. He was a knight of Camelot, duty bound to his Queen, the fair Guinevere who sat at the high table, full with Arthur's child.
But then Ector caught sight of Merlin again. He had ceased his fool's antics, and was whispering in the Queen's ear from behind her chair. His hand strayed to her shoulder, and Guinevere listened intently to his words, nodding in what seemed like agreement - but could easily be obedience. In an instant the juggler's facade had slipped; he was the sorcerer again, her right hand - or perhaps her puppetmaster.
"And the wizard?" Ector muttered. He caught Cartigern's eye, and the lord smiled as he took another sip of wine.
"Leave him to me."
Guinevere was on edge, but felt she was giving a passable impression of enjoying herself. Her pains that morning had been troubling, even though she trusted the midwife's assurance it was normal, and took the draught Gaius prepared for her.
But this was the night that would decide Camelot's future - Annis was still an unknown quantity, and sitting down at the banquet was the first time Gwen had seen Mithian since her arrival. She seemed content enough, less pale and thin than she had been when last in Camelot, her cheeks rosy and smile bright.
They'd been entertained by Merlin's juggling at Annis' insistence, as it seemed to be some kind of private joke between them. Gwen was glad; she'd hoped neither Annis nor Mithian would take against him for being a sorcerer, and it appeared he'd won them over. When he finished his little pantomime, Annis and Elena struck up a conversation, and he'd come to her chair whispering how well he thought things were going, but he was going to check on the carousers out in the hall. She'd nodded and thanked him, before finally turning to Mithian who gave her a wane smile, as if she too was unsure how to begin the conversation.
"Leon tells me you enjoyed seeing the lower town today." Gwen started with a safe topic.
"I did," Mithian's smile turned sweet. "Very charming - such a wonderful marketplace. I bought this brooch." She indicated the silver-lined collection of pearls pinned to her dress.
"It is beautiful," Gwen said, recognising the craftsmanship. "Was is Sal, at the stall near the Rising Sun tavern?"
"It was." Mithian seemed surprised. "You know all your merchants by name?"
"She is a friend," Gwen confirmed. "And I know the market well - did you see a small house by the blacksmith's forge? I believe there is a red dragon painted on the door now."
Mithian nodded. "I did wonder about that, it is common for people to Camelot to expropriate the Pendragon crest?"
"Only the former occupant of that house," Gwen said with a smile.
"Ah." Mithian caught her meaning. "You lived there, before you were Queen."
"Arthur had it preserved after we married." Gwen did not try to flaunt her common past, but she was not ashamed of it. "It wasn't much, but I have...fond memories."
It had been, of course, her home since childhood. There were memories of her father, coming home covered in grime from the forge, lifting her up high in the air making her shriek in delight. Her mother, sewing clothes and singing by the fire, teaching Gwen's tiny fingers how to thread a needle. Elyan, playing with blocks on the rug, building them up high only to smash them down again with a toddler's war cry.
And of course, Arthur. It was where he had kissed her for the first time, where he would often visit late at night under the guise of patrolling the town, where he had asked her to become his wife.
Gwen scolded herself, sinking her fingernails into one palm to pull herself back from the memory swamp. But when she returned her attention to Mithian she found a gaze filled with sympathy, perhaps guessing where her thoughts were dwelling.
"It must be hard to leave the only home you have ever known," Mithian said softly, casting her eyes about the room. "I thought I would have to once. You…probably know that Arthur and I had considered marriage."
Gwen's smile became forced, and she made sure to keep her voice even. "I am aware."
"I did not love him," Mithian added quickly. "It was intended to be a political alliance, only, although I was determined to make the best of the situation. Of course, Arthur did make that rather easy, and I would not have been unhappy to proceed."
Gwen could not blame anyone for finding her husband charming. Mithain turned back to face her intently; obviously this had been on her mind.
"When he told me that he could not marry me, I admit I was disappointed," she said. "I asked him what woman would trump a princess for his hand. He did not mention you by name, only that you were the daughter of a blacksmith."
Gwen smiled ruefully. "Nowhere near as suitable."
"He said that without you, his kingdom meant nothing to him," Mithian told her. "You probably already knew that, but I thought, given all that has happened, you should hear it again."
Mithian's words were like a balm on her weary heart – of course she had been secure in Arthur's love for her, but to know he had proclaimed it thus to Mithian, when Gwen had still been banished, touched her deeply.
"Thank you," Gwen told her, laying a hand on her arm. "I confess...I was worried about this meeting - that perhaps you would resent me."
Mithian looked surprised. "Whatever for?"
"If circumstances had been different, you would be Queen of both Camelot and Nemeth, and your son the heir to both." Gwen spoke carefully, the memory of her discussion with Arthur fresh in her mind. "Some might feel I had stolen your children's inheritance."
Mithian laughed. "I was worried you would hold a grudge against me!" she admitted. "For almost marrying the man you loved, for bringing Morgana back into Camelot."
"It seems we've both been anxious over nothing." Gwen was relieved, and idly thought that between Elena and Mithian, she had two potential allies out of two broken engagements.
"You and Arthur helped me in my time of need, and forgave the wrong I did you." Mithian spoke seriously, reaching out her hand. "If I knew nothing else about you, Guinevere, that would win you my loyalty. But I hope that we will be friends, as well."
Gwen was touched, and clasped Mithian's hand in hers. "Of course, I would like that."
"Odin is responsible for my father's death," Mithian said bitterly. "If this war he wants is the end of him, I will not be sorry."
Thinking of his vile threats, Gwen could not disagree. She squeezed Mithian's hand in solidarity, and glanced to her right. Elena was heartily discussing the finer points of equine husbandry with one of Nemeth's knights, but Annis' eyes were on herself; watching, listening, appraising.
Gwen did not let go of Mithian's hand. "I hope we may be friends also," she said to Annis lightly.
"True allies are hard to find in this land," she said shrewdly. "Friends even moreso. But you seem to attract loyalty, Guinevere."
Gwen felt her cheeks colour. "I hope I deserve it."
"I hope so too." Annis' eyes flickered over her face, as if looking for her answer. Then she smiled and handed Gwen a goblet of wine. "Perhaps now would be a good time to make your speech."
Gwen held Annis' gaze for a few moments, wanting to be sure she understood correctly. Her hands clasped around the gold of the goblet, and when she rose to her feet and almost immediately the room fell silent.
"My friends," she began, her voice ringing out clearly though the hall. "We are facing a grave threat - even now Odin and his alliance of kings are preparing their armies to march on Camelot. To ravage our farmlands and decimate our villages, to bombard our city walls, set fire to our streets. Make no mistake, they come to raze our citadel to the ground, and not even our children will be safe from their wrath."
She lay a hand on her belly, and there was no doubt the stakes of this war, of the wrath Odin would unleash on Arthur's son in recompense for his own.
"We will fight, but not only for the love of Camelot," she declared. "But for the love of Gawant," she raised her cup to Elena, who stood and held her own goblet up. "And Nemeth," she turned to Mithian, who rose smoothly, cup held between delicate fingers. "And Caerleon," she looked to Annis, and the room held its breath for a moment to see if the last queen would rise.
She did of course, lifting her goblet to Guinevere with the bearing of the great queen she was.
"Odin, Lot, Alined and Bayard," Annis called out strongly. "Four kings, they call themselves. I call them mercenaries and brigands!"
The room cheered in agreement, and her knights banged their flagons on the table, some calling out obscenities and brandishing their fists.
"Not only will we stand against them," Annis continued. "We will decimate this ravenous horde, and those that are unlucky enough to survive will slink back to their dank fortresses and crumbling castles, and pay us for the privilege!"
The answering roar was almost defeaning. Annis had complete command of the room - she knew exactly how to inspire her men, she had played the game exactly right - and Gwen could not help but admire her. But she was not envious; Annis had her way, and Guinevere hers, but they were complementary, not in opposition. There was so much she could learn from a queen longer lived than any of them – and from Elena and Mithian too.
They drank and feasted and laughed long into the night, trading stories of their youth and queenship, sharing with each other what they had until now been burdened with alone. And for once Gwen's thoughts did not unduly dwell on Arthur and all she had lost, for she was too full of hope and joy for the future; for an alliance that would last beyond just one battle, and would not falter as so many before it, but keep a peace that would blossom into a golden age…if they had the courage to fight for it.