The victor belongs to the spoils - The Beautiful and Damned, F. Scott Fitzgerald
The snows started the day the army made their triumphant return to Camelot, falling in light flurries upon the proud soldiers and cheering crowds that lined the streets heedless to the bitter chill. Valeda had said it was a blessing from the Triple Goddess, that she had held back the winter to see Guinevere triumph, and allow her people safely home.
However it meant that the bulk of the allied forces had been sent directly back to Caerleon, Nemeth, and Gawant, and Guinevere could not address them directly and convey her thanks. Annis, Elena, and Mithian had returned with a small entourage for a celebratory banquet where the wine flowed free and everyone was eager to tell their story of the battle. All except Merlin, who had arrived in Camelot with the army looking as if he was to topple off his horse at any moment.
He had ridden at the front of the procession with Leon and Mithian, but while they had shared broad smiles with the crowd (and Gwen had noticed, furtive glances with each other), Merlin's face had been so pale and drawn she had gasped at the sight of him. There had been dark circles under his eyes and his cheek were hallowed; he appeared more like a reanimated corpse than a man, but on reaching the steps of the castle he had wearily dismounted his horse, gave her a pained smile, taken her hand and patted it lightly. The fallout from using so much magic, he'd assured her, with little rest the night after the battle and a hard ride back home, but his strength would return with rest.
Gwen had been worried, but knew there was nothing she could do but send him to Gaius, and allow him the rest he needed. Annis and Elena had arrived soon afterward to similar acclaim from the crowd, and in the evening they gathered in the banquet hall for a well-earned feast. She felt a pang of envy as she heard the gripping tales of battle - Annis leading the vanguard, Mithian felling the enemy with her crossbow, and Elena restoring the connection between the dragonstones. Of course, praise for Merlin fell from everyone's lips, even those who had before held him in contempt. It pleased her to hear it, for his worth to finally be acknowledged, but Gwen also felt heartsick that he had overextended his power, that he had given too much of himself for her sake.
"You seem troubled Guinevere," Mithian spoke up from beside her, keeping her voice low so they could not be overheard. There was not much danger of that, since Sir Gareth, in Merlin's absence, had taken it upon himself to regale the room with the tale of how he, with only his squire for assistance, had fought off dozens of Odin's men to protect Merlin, completely vulnerable while he fought a country away.
"It is a great victory," Gwen said, and forced a smile. "But at a great cost."
She thought of the dead buried beneath the soil on Camelot's borders, never to return home. Dear Sir Bedivere, who had never agreed with her decision to allow the return to magic, but had proved loyal to her to the end; Annis' man at arms Lord Thomas, Elena's first knight Sir Hughes - and poor Alun, who she'd worked alongside a lifetime ago in the palace kitchens, had given his life to protect Merlin. There were hundreds of others; some knights she knew well, others only in passing, and many whose names and faces she had never known, but had still died for her.
"They will be remembered," Mithian said, "they will tell stories of this battle for years to come, and we must make sure that we enjoy the peace bought by their sacrifice."
"You're right," Gwen agreed, and cast a glance around the room, her heart a bit lighter at the revelry. There was not a soul in the room untouched by grief, and yet there was much to celebrate - the lives that remained, the people kept safe from the threat of war, and the alliance between four kingdoms that had been strengthened through the shared blood of battle.
"I hope you're not angry at me." Mithian took a sip of her wine, but gave a wary glance over the rim of the goblet.
Gwen furrowed her brow. "Angry?"
"About Odin."
Gwen exhaled with relief and patted Mithian's arm. "No, of course not." The story had already been told several times that night; Odin shot with her crossbow and tumbling off his horse, his duel with Sir Leon and refusal to surrender, and finally his execution at Mithian's hand.
"I don't regret it," Mithian said, tilting her chin slightly. "But I wouldn't want you to think I had acted against your wishes without cause."
"You were at the battle, and I was not," Gwen said lighty, "I would never question your judgement."
"Merlin told me that you once forgave the man that killed your father." Mithian toyed with the stem of her goblet, eyes downcast. "When it came down to it, I found I could not show the same kindness."
Gwen was silent for moment - did Mithian know that it had in fact been Uther that ordered her fathers death? Likely not - it was not common knowledge even in Camelot, except among those who had known Tom and mourned his passing. If the circumstances had been different, if her father had been killed by an enemy king, would she have answered Merlin's question differently?
"You think me a better person than I am," she said eventually, and Mithian lifted her eyes, giving her a small smile. "If I am honest, I think I wanted to face Odin myself, for him to see that after all of his vile threats that I did not fear him; that I had defeated him."
Gwen's hand strayed to her belly protectively. Odin had threatened to cut the child from it, but her son was alive and he was dead, so what did it matter. Yes, she would have kept him alive for ransom, to revel in his defeat and humiliation, but she could not fault Mithian's choice.
"So I'm not sorry he's dead," she added, "and I hope it has brought you peace."
"As do I," Mithian mused, but when she took a sip of wine the look on her face made Gwen fear it would not be as much as she'd hoped.
Sir Ector drank his ale in silence as he surveyed the revelry around him. It was a great victory; after this no one would doubt Guinevere's worth as Queen of Camelot, and the thought gave him comfort. Yet he could not bring himself to join in the carousing - perhaps it was guilt, that he did not deserve the Queen's favour after he had come so close to betraying her, perhaps it was envy, that he had not been present at the battle, and could not share in the stories of heroism and triumph.
Few knew of the plot to overthrow the Queen that had been thwarted in their absence, but they would find out soon enough. Cartigern and the other conspirators remained in the dungeons and would be tried for treason once the celebrations were over, and then what would his fellow knights think of him - what would Kay think of him?
His son was in his element - no longer obliged to stand against the wall, but invited to seat beside Sir Gareth, encouraged to recount his tale of the battle, given congratulatory pats on the back and plied with ale by knights and looked on with admiration and envy by his fellow squires.
Ector was so grateful to see him again - their losses had been heavy, but his son had returned to him against the odds. Or perhaps not. Sir Gareth had expressed his surprise that he'd been chosen to guard Merlin, since he'd barely exchanged ten words with the sorcerer before the day of the battle. He'd boasted that it must have been due to his skill and bravery that no knight could now deny, but Ector could guess Merlin's true motive.
He'd almost betrayed the Queen for love and fear for his son, but in the end had held firm to his oath and exposed the plot against her. In return, Merlin had ensured Kay was kept far from the thick of the battle, and given him the best chance to return home unscathed. It was a kindness Ector knew he didn't deserve, but would never forget.
The Druids sat clustered at the other end of the banquet hall - Valeda, with whom Ector had now had many conversations, each slightly less tense than the last, the druid Chief who called himself Iseldir, and a small collection of others who had returned from the Essetir front at Sir Percival's invitation. They talked among themselves and cast wary glances at the rest of the room, as if expecting at any moment the knights would draw their swords on them, but if anything they were met with indifference by the assembled soldiers and nobility, not quite prepared to welcome druids even if they had helped win the day.
Drowning the last of his ale, Ector rose and crossed the room to where the druids were seated , talking quietly among themselves. Valeda looked up and gave him that wry smirk of her hers.
"Sir Ector," she said, "how kind of you to grace us with your presence."
Ector gave a shallow bow, only half in jest. "I find your conversation so delightful Valeda, how could I stay away?"
She gave a throaty laugh and turned to Iseldir. "Ector has been keeping me company these last few days."
"That is kind of you, sir knight," Iseldir gave him a mild smile, but still looked wary. "Returning to Camelot can be...difficult for us."
"I understand." Ector glanced around the room - so far he was the only one who had engaged the druids in conversation. There had been no jibes or cruel words - there had not even been any suspicious looks - Guinevere would not have allowed such disrespect, and perhaps even those knights who still despised magic could put such feelings aside based on the druid's actions, so instead they simply ignored their presence entirely.
"So I am curious, if you don't mind me asking," he turned back to Iseldir, "why you decided to fight?"
"The Queen was true to her word." Iseldir's smile grew slightly warmer. "She could have bowed to the pressure, to the advice that you and I'm sure others gave her that repealing the ban on magic was not worth risking her kingdom for. She could have treated with those invading kings, bargained with our lives to save those of her people, and no one would have faulted her for doing so."
Iseldir met his gaze. "But instead she sent out her armies to fight for us, just as she said she would. There were those among us that felt it only right we should fight for ourselves as well."
"And fight very well, from what I understand." Ector wished he'd been there to see it, but from all reports it had been a sight to behold.
"Perhaps one day you will," Valeda said with a teasing lilt. "I have a grandson who would look very fine in a knight's livery."
Ector couldn't tell if she was joking, but upon seeing his stricken expression she laughed heartily, and even Iseldir seemed amused. It had been less than a week earlier that Cartigern had struck fear into his heart with that very threat - a druid knight who might serve alongside his son, and hold the lives of others in his hands. But after speaking at length with Valeda and hearing of how her people had fought, his mind was turning, if not yet quite completely turned.
"You must forgive me," Ector said eventually. "It is hard to break the habits of almost thirty years."
"We are all adjusting," Iseldir nodded. "It takes time, and I'm not sure if our presence here helps or hinders."
He looked around again, and smiled at a young serving girl staring at him wide eyed while she poured Queen Annis' wine. His attention made her start, and a splash of wine spilled over the goblet onto the table. Annis turned to the girl, no doubt with a reprimand on her lips, but on seeing her fear followed her gaze back to Iseldir, who looked abashed and somewhat sad.
The Queen of Caerleon rose, lifting the half-full goblet between the stem of her fingers. "Friends," she said, her strong, clear voice projecting over the din. "Your attention, please."
She waited for the room to fall silent, as servants scurried around to ensure that everyone had a full goblet or tankard. Ector took a fresh ale from a proffered tray and turned his attention back to Annos.
"It was not long ago we gathered in this room to forge an alliance such as Albion has never seen," she began when the room was silent. "Four queens in unity of spirit and purpose, our kingdoms and people united against a common enemy, a scourge on our land that threatened destruction of all we hold dear. Tonight we celebrate the defeat of those that would seek to dictate the laws under which we govern our kingdoms, who would attempt to depose us, to pillage our countryside and slaughter our people. And how have we answered this affront?"
"With death!" someone called from the crowd, to the cheers of others and the banging of flagons on the table.
"Yes," Annis agreed with satisfaction. "We have triumphed over those who sought to destroy us, and repaid them tenfold. "They will sing songs of our victory even when we are long gone, of those brave men who fought so bravely and those that gave their lives. They will sing of Lord Thomas, my dear friend who rose beside me in the vanguard, of Sir Hughes who brought down three dozen men before he himself fell, of Sir Bedivere who led that brave final charge and kept our hope alive."
"And they will sing of Princess Elena," she turned slightly to the woman next to her as the crowd gave a cheer. "Proving herself the finest horsewoman in Albion, running between the lines as swift as the wind itself. Of Queen Mithian," she added to more cheers, "Slayer of kings, her arrow as true as her heart. And of course, Queen Guinevere - the architect of this Queen's Alliance, whose courage in the face of great odds is an example to us all."
"And you, Queen Annis!" someone yelled from the crowd, and she laughed.
"To all of us!" Annis raised her goblet again and this time drank deeply from it. Ector followed suit, as the assembly cheered and drank to the health of their queens, and the glory of victory.
But Annis was not finished. She gestured for the serving girl to fill her goblet again and then raised her free hand to quiet the crowd once more.
"But we cannot forget this victory was not ours alone," she said, holding the room in rapt attention. "This battle could not have been won without magic - without Merlin who brought down the storm upon our enemy, nor without the intervention of the druids."
She lifted her goblet in their direction, and Iseldir straightened in his chair, clearly surprised.
"Camelot was not the only kingdom of Albion where sorcerers could not find safe harbour." Her voice had softened, but she still held the room in thrall. "But we have shared a battlefield now, and that forms a bond greater than the fear that once kept us at odds. I ask everyone to stand, and raise their cups to our new friends, so that they may know from this day forward, they will always be welcome in our halls."
As if compelled, everyone rose to their feet - some smiling broadly, others with clear misgivings but not enough to defy Annis' request. It was a bold and clever move - if Guinevere had given such a speech it would have been effective, but everyone knew her feelings on the matter. For Annis - senior to her fellow queens in age and rule - to unequivocally give the druids praise, to make clear that the Queen's Alliance was not forged simply to repel the invaders, but in support of Guinevere's position on magic...no one could deny the power of it.
"To the druids," Ector said along with the crowd, lifting his ale and then taking a long drink. Iseldir looked surprised but pleased, his cheeks slightly flushed as he acknowledged the crowd with the tilt of his head.
The speeches over, people returned to the feast and their own conversations. The druids too resumed the discussion amongst themselves, although this time with more ease than before, and less wary glances around the room.
"Very fine words," Valeda said, wry as always. "Let's see if it makes a difference."
"I think it already has," Ector nodded to Sir Alcott who was approaching somewhat nervously with his wife on his arm. Lady Cara in contrast looked quite eager, giving Iseldir and Valeda a broad smile as Ector took it upon himself to introduce them.
"It is a great pleasure to meet you," she effused. "I was just a girl, but I remember a little of when the druids lived in Camelot…"
Ector saw there were others moving in their direction, as if Annis' speech had given them permission or courage to break the ice. He nodded to Valeda to take his leave and allow others to approach, and saw Guinevere watching with open emotion before turning to discuss something excitedly with Elena.
Not in the mood for further conversation, Ector slipped quietly out of the banquet hall, feeling restless even though the night had been a success. Soon Annis and Mithian would return home with their men, and Camelot would still need to reckon with the treason that had come so close to the crown. They still had a long winter ahead, and they would have to face it alone.
"Ugh." Merlin groaned as he rolled over, the velvet pillow rubbing against his cheek. For months he'd awoken with a start of unfamiliarity, luxury so foreign to him that in those few moments of disorientation between sleep and awake, he forgot that he had been given his own quarters, his own four-poster bed, his own soft blankets.
The sun was an unwelcome instruction, and he groaned again, covering his eyes and willing himself to go back to sleep. But then Merlin wondered who had drawn the drapes to let the light in? Gwen had offered to assign him a manservant of his own, but he'd balked at the idea, too used to managing his own affairs and no patience for interference.
Merlin lifted his head and opened his eyes, squinting into the light that streamed in through the windows, and saw Gaius in a chair by the bed staring back at him.
"Welcome back to the world," he said, his relief evident.
"Huh?" Merlin propped himself up on one shoulder. 'I only got back a few hours ago," he gestured to the window, "it's still light out!"
Gaius gave him a concerned look. "Merlin, that was yesterday. You've been asleep all day and night."
"What?" Merlin rubbed his eyes again; it certainly didn't feel like it.
"You missed the feast," Gaius told him. "I'm told you were greatly honoured."
Merlin waved his hand dismissively. "Where's Gwen?"
"She kept vigil at your bedside all yesterday afternoon," Gaius said, "and dropped by this morning as well, she was rather worried. But she had to meet with the other queens before they depart - I'll send someone to let her know you're awake."
"No, no." Merlin sighed and cast aside the bedclothes. "I'll go myself."
He found them in the privy council chamber; Guinevere, Annis, Elena, and Mithian seated around the table examining a map of Camelot. There was no one else in the room - no knights or attendants, not even servants - only the guards outside who had warned him the queens were not to be disturbed but stood aside when Merlin asked.
"Merlin!" Guinevere rose when he entered, crossing to room to embrace him tightly. "I'm so glad you're alright."
"I told you I would be," he assured her, but the crease that formed between her eyes indicated she didn't believe him.
"You should be resting," she admonished him, cupping his cheek in one hand as her eyes darted over his face. "You cannot stay in any case, we agreed that any decisions would be made between the four is us, alone."
"I'm sure we can make an exception," Elena spoke up. "How can we send away our greatest champion?" She looked to Annis and Mithian as if challenging them to disagree, but neither made any objection.
"I welcome Merlin's insight," Mithian said as she poured him a goblet of wine and set it at an empty place.
Annis gave a nod of assent, and Merlin took his seat with relief - it wasn't that he didn't trust Guinevere to negotiate for Camelot's advantage, but her generosity was well known and he didn't want anyone to talk her into giving away more than she should.
"What have I missed?" he asked brightly, with some effort. "Other than the feast last night."
"Queen Annis gave a speech that honoured you." Guinevere sat down again, holding her belly somewhat awkwardly - at this late stage of her pregnancy, everything seemed uncomfortable and Merlin didn't envy her. "And the druids as well."
Merlin looked at her with surprise, and Annis gave him a wry smile. "I admit," she said, "when Elena called you the greatest sorcerer who'd ever lived I thought she was exaggerating, but I've never seen anything like the magic you performed during the battle. I'm certainly glad we're on the same side."
"I promise I'll leave the lightning outside today," he joked, and Annis gave a hearty laugh. "So what have you decided already?"
"The captured enemy," Gwen informed him. "Those of rank who can be held for ransom, to be shared between us relative to the men we each brought to batte."
That had been Annis' decision, Merlin was sure. But he could not argue against the logic of it, her army had been the largest and they'd taken heavy losses.
"We had been discussing what to do with King Alined," Gwen added, and looked expectantly at Elena, who leaned forward in her chair.
"He threatened to drag me back to Deorham so I could amuse him," she all but spat the words out. "I would like to send him back to my father in Gawant, and see how amusing he finds that."
No one had any objection, but there was some haggling over the ransom and Elena in the end successfully argued that as Gawant was taking on the responsibility, they should also have the reward, or at least the advantage of a treaty they could sign in exchange for his release.
"Where is Alined now?" Merlin asked, after having kept out of the discussion as he'd seen nothing of value to add.
"Confined to guest quarters," Gwen confirmed, "and under heavy guard."
"And Lord Bayard?"
"Scurried back to Mercia like the coward he is." Mithian shook her head, "no doubt hoping we will not trouble ourselves with him."
"We cannot allow him to escape unscathed," Annis said firmly, tapping her fist on the table. "He was part of this, as much as he may regret it now, and good men died because of it. If he will not accept terms and pay reparations, we must march into Mercia and force him to do so.
"Yes," Elena nodded, "let's see how he enjoys an invasion."
Merlin grimaced. He'd once drunk poison to keep Camelot's peace with Mercia, and he did not share Annis' appetite for further war. Nor it seemed did Gwen. She leaned back in her chair and gave a deep sigh.
"He knows we can do nothing now winter has set in," she pointed out. "We could not launch a campaign until next spring, when his affront to us is but a memory and our men may be reluctant to be pulled away from the ploughing."
She was right - most of Camelot's knights would return to their estates, and those they had mustered from the pastures and farmland in order to protect their homes may not be as keen when there was no direct threat to be fought.
"But his actions cannot go unanswered," Mithian spoke up. "It would make us look weak."
"I agree," Gwen nodded. "We should write to him, but perhaps our demands can be tempered with more favourable terms."
"Such as?" Annis raised one eyebrow, and Merlin leaned forward, curious as to where Gwen was headed.
"Bayard has a daughter, who I believe is now his sole heir?"
Annis nodded. "Gilda."
"And you have a son who is yet unmarried." Gwen gave a sly smile. "Mercia would make a fine dowry, and Bayard would be humbled, yet still salvage his pride. It would not take an army to get him to agree to such terms."
Merlin his lip - the unification of Carleon and Mercia on Bayard's death would make Annis - or rather her heir - very powerful indeed, a kingdom to rival Camelot itself. If it could avoid bloodshed, and the Queen's Alliance held, it would be a neat solution, since Bayard may yet live for many years.
Annis however seemed unconvinced. "He makes war against us, and is rewarded with my son's hand?"
"He will be losing his kingdom," Mithian pointed out. "That will punish him enough, surely."
"He will be dead before he loses it," Annis said dryly. "Some men are untroubled by events that do not affect them directly."
"You know Bayard better than any of us," Gwen spoke up, "is he such a man?"
Annis looked at Gwen for a long moment, and it was clear the argument was won. "No, it will weigh on him," she admitted, and then sighed and waved her hand. "Very well, I agree. But he must also pay a yearly pension as part of the girl's dowry."
"We can discuss the terms," Gwen nodded, shifting in her chair. "Now, about Lot-"
"Ah, now that's where I believe I have standing," Merlin jumped in before anyone else could. "I'm the one who killed him after all."
All four women looked at him in shock.
"Oh," he chuckled. "Did I not say?" He told the story briefly, pausing to ask if his mother had yet come to Camelot as she'd promised, but Elena informed him she'd wanted to remain to care for the wounded.
"So Lot is gone," Merlin said, rubbing his hands together. "He has no heir, no other family to succeed him. Therefore I propose that Essetir now falls under the rule of Camelot."
"I do not object in principle," Annis said - Essetir was too far from Caerleon to be of interest to her, nor to Mithian or Elena. "But it is only a matter of time before a warlord swoops in to take power."
"I suggest we send Sir Percival with a group of men to secure Lot's stronghold and prevent that from happening."
"You were born in Essetir weren't you Merlin?" Mithian asked, and he nodded in confirmation.
"That's why I know the people there will be happier under Guinevere's rule than any other."
"And what of Odin's kingdom, does the same reasoning apply?" Mithian was smiling, and Merlin gave a shrug.
"It may be more difficult to hold," Annis said practically. "He has no children but his people will be loyal to his memory."
"We also captured his cousin in the field," Mithian's smile did not waver. "He was Odin's heir, and can be used to keep the others in line."
"You wish to take him back to Nemeth." Guinevere nodded. "It may be the best solution."
The discussions went on, haggling over details and making plans, but Merlin could see that Guinevere was growing weary. She rubbed her belly, her face crinkling slightly in discomfort.
"Are you alright?" he asked.
"Fine," she gave a weak smile. "He's just kicking."
"Eager to come into this new world we are building for him." Elena grinned.
"Well the foundations have been laid." Annis said as an attendant entered the room. "Perhaps we need to leave the walls for another day."
"Queen Annis, Queen Mithian," he bowed. "I apologise for interrupting, but fresh snows are threatening. Your men are eager to be getting on the road."
"Very well." Annis nodded, "we will depart momentarily."
Mithian echoed the order, and Guinevere gave instructions for the release of prisoners as had been agreed. The attendant bowed again and left the room, and Merlin turned to Elena quizzically.
"Your men are not so eager to leave?"
"No, I've decided to stay for a while," she told him with a smile, "The advantage of still being a princess, not a queen."
Merlin noticed that Mithian flinched, perhaps thinking of her own father not long dead, and the responsibility that now fell upon her. But she covered it with a smile as she rose and smoothed down her gown.
"It was so wonderful to see you all," she said, moving to embrace Guinevere and kiss her cheek. "Send word as soon as the baby comes, so we may drink his health."
She made way for Annis and gave a fond goodbye to Elena before approaching Merlin.
"I may not see Sir Leon before we depart," she said quietly so not to be overheard.
"Shall I kiss him goodbye for you?" he teased, and she punched him lightly in the arm.
"Tell him he may write to me," she said, a blush forming on her cheeks as she slid away. "If he chooses."
Annis had taken Gwen's hand and was patting it fondly. "Now you must rest, my dear," she told her firmly. "It is not a weakness to do so."
"Not yet, I'm afraid." Gwen looked rather grim. "There are other matters to be dealt with today."
"I see." Annis looked sympathetic, and gave her a firm embrace. Gwen looked rather surprised, but accepted it gratefully.
"It is an ugly business being queen sometimes," she said as she pulled away. "But it must be done."
It seemed much had happened while Merlin had been asleep, and he wondered what the rest of the day had in store.
"And you," Annis gave Merlin a wry smile as she approached, and for a moment he thought she was going to hug him too, but instead she gave him a firm but affectionate pat on the shoulder. "Keep her safe."
Merlin nodded, glancing over Annis' shoulder at Guinevere, looking troubled as she rubbed her belly again.
"I always do."
Nella stood at her window, watching the snow fall outside as the sky grew darker. Her view overlooked over the courtyard, and she'd seen Queen Annis and Queen Mithian leave with their retinues some hours earlier, but other than that Camelot was still and silent, the celebrations over and the people returning to their homes and fires, out of the bitter chill.
She'd watched from her window the day before as well, utterly relieved to see Camelot's army return triumphant, but heartsick that she could not take part in the revelry. They'd been confined to their quarters for days now; her mother almost always lying in bed not even wanting to speak, only occasionally giving a piteous moan. Servants had brought food three times a day but had told her nothing, and her mind raced with fear and uncertainty.
Did the Queen believe that she was party to the plot? That she had attempted to ingratiate herself only to deliver information to her father - surely she could not believe that Nella's affection had been only an artifice, rather than pure joy in growing close to someone she admired so much, who she now thought of as family?
Despondent, Nella moved aimlessly through the room before collapsing into the armchair with a sigh. She stared at the fire for a while, watching it burn down to embers but not bothering to add another log even as the room grew colder. She curled up her legs on the armchair to conserve warmth and the sewing basket beside it caught her eye - on the top lay the swaddling she'd been embroidering for the prince, the red dragon only half finished.
Nella picked it up, running her fingers around the delicate blossoms she'd embroidered around the edges - gillyflowers, Guinevere's favourite. Only a few days ago she had shown it to her father and he'd praised her work, but hours later he'd tried to mount a coup, been caught and imprisoned, and Nella's entire life had changed. She was now the daughter of a traitor, but it occurred to her that the Queen must have known or at least suspected her father's intent, for his entire plan had come unravelled so easily when put into effect.
Had Guinevere only pretended to be her friend, to care about what she had to say simply to ferret out her father's treason? Was he right, and the Queen only interested in serving her own ends, her kindness a facade, her interest in Nella a weapon to strike at her family?
No , Nella told herself. She could not believe it of the woman she had always admired, and had come to care deeply for. She thought back, reassessing every conversation they had ever had, desperate to prove that instinct right. She could not think of an instance when the Queen had tried to prise information about her father out of her - she had listened attentively when Nella spoken of her life at home, but she had shared little of her father, knowing that he did not care for Guinevere and not wanting to make their friendship awkward by alluding to it.
But when she examined the last few weeks, Nella recalled that Merlin had taken to asking her strange questions, like who her father was dining with, or to identify his close friends at court. Her heart sank as she realised he'd been leading her into betraying her father, even in some small way, and while Nella would never wish to abet her father's treason, nor did she wish to have played a part in his downfall.
She wiped her silent tears away with the swaddling, her heart almost broken. She'd admired Merlin, sought his approval, and wanted him to like her in return, but he'd only seen her as a silly girl too blind to realise when she was being interrogated.
But she also remembered that Guinevere had often changed the subject, much to Merlin's frustration. At the time she hadn't thought anything of it, only too happy to discuss whatever the Queen wanted to, but she saw now that Guinevere had been subverting Merlin every time, not letting Nella give the answers that may, however unknowingly, unravel her father's lies.
She held the swaddling to her chest, feeling slightly better. There was a knock at the door, and Nella called them to enter, thinking it must be a servant with the evening meal. But it was Sir Ector, and she hastily rose to her feet, dread forming at the pit of her stomach.
"Lady Nella," he greeted her, and then glanced around the room, grimacing at the state of it. "Where is your mother?"
"Abed," Nella said, sinking back down into the armchair. "Her megrims trouble her greatly."
Ector nodded and seemed to hesitate for a moment, but then strode purposefully to the fireplace, building the logs inside and lighting them. Then he rose, turning back around to face Nella.
"The Queen has asked to see you."
Nella looked fearfully up at him. "Is she angry with me?"
"No," Ector told her kindly. "She knows you had nothing to do with the plot against her."
"Then why has she left me locked up like this?" she asked, tears threatening to fall again.
"That was my doing," Ector admitted. "The threat to the Queen's life was very serious, and we needed to take every precaution. As I'm sure you can appreciate, she has had other matters on her mind since then."
Nella nodded, but it still hurt. "But I can see her now?"
"She has been holding court," he explained, "or rather overseeing the trial of those who plotted against her. I'm sorry, your father was found guilty of treason."
Nella felt as if she had been punched in the stomach. "Will he hang?"
"He has not yet been sentenced," Ector said. "But yes, he will die."
Nella's lip trembled. "Can I see him?"
"That's for the Queen to decide." Ector looked her over, and Nella was acutely aware of her unbrushed hair and stained gown she'd been wearing for days. "I will wait outside and give you a chance to prepare."
Nella nodded and rose, wiping her cheeks. Ector moved towards her and placed a warm hand on her shoulder.
"Your father asked me to watch over you," he said softly, "and I will do so to the best of my ability. But I must serve the Queen first, and act in her best interests, even if to do so would cause you distress."
She looked up at him with consternation, not quite understanding his meaning.
"You must not ask Guinevere to spare your father's life," he clarified. "She cannot in any case, and refusing you will only grieve her further."
Nella nodded again, not trusting herself to speak.
"She has great affection for you, and has told me so many times," Ector added kindly. "So I'm sure you do not wish to cause her pain."
In truth Nella was still unsure how she felt, she had loved Guinevere, but she was also the one who was going to order her father's death. Even if he had brought it on himself, could Nella ever look at her the same way?
But she gave her promise, and as Ector left she quickly set about making herself as presentable as possible.
Guinevere couldn't remember when she had felt more tired. Between the negotiations with Annis, Mithian, and Elena that morning, and the special court convened to try those involved in the plot against her in the afternoon, her head was aching, her body stiff, and she wanted nothing more than to run from the chamber and curl up in bed.
But she knew it was imperative the trials were completed that day. She was eager to move past the matter and not let it drag out any more than necessary, particularly as she was due to enter her confinement soon and rest as instructed by the midwife. Gwen could not let the pall of treason hang over her when shut away in her rooms, she had to think of the health of her child, of the prince that she hoped would soon bring them all even greater joy.
She sat on her throne in the audience chamber, Merlin flanking her on one side and Sir Leon on the other. Elena had been given a chair to watch the proceedings, and Gwen was glad for the moral support. The rest of her inner circle of knights were also present, along with nobles who had been in the city and a few merchants and important figures from the lower town. There must be transparency, she had insisted, the people must know what had happened, and see justice dispensed.
One by one, she had summoned the conspirators to answer the charge of treason. Some had admitted guilt outright, throwing themselves on her mercy; others had tried to deny their guilt but had been implicated by the testimony of their collaborators or Sir Ector. He had spoken openly about his part in the plot, sparing no detail even as his son Kay had stood in the assembly visibly shocked and ashamed.
Guinevere had granted him a full pardon, and made it clear that he had her full trust and remained a knight of the Round Table. Some of the knights had clear misgivings, but she could not help that. Ector must build back faith with them, and all she could do was show her support and gratitude.
All the others had all been convicted of abetting treason, but she had no desire to put to death so many of her subjects, and had erred on the side of mercy. Those that had freely admitted their wrong and allocuted had been treated as well as could be expected - stripped of title and rank, and in some cases heavily fined, but allowed to live. The servants who had been able to successfully argue that they had only followed their masters out of fear had been pardoned, but those who had actively participated in the plot, like Cartigern's manservant Bryn, had not been afforded the same kindness.
Finally Cartigern himself had stood before her, unrepentant as his crimes were laid bare by the testimony of Merlin, Sir Ector, and those he had drawn into his plot. He had given a speech riddled with all the old accusations, railing against magic and Merlin's influence, but Gwen had sat in silence while those in the assembly had shouted him down. She was gratified for their support, although she knew that some present may have been sympathetic to his reasoning, but would never side with him now, defeated as he was. The only power he had held was the threat of invasion, proof that Guinevere's reign was unstable and magic was the cause, but she had been victorious, Camelot was now stronger than it had been since Arthur's death, and none would now stand against her.
But the victory felt almost sour, that so many had been left on the battlefield never to return, and yet the carnage was not yet over. Coolly and calmly, she had found Cartigern guilty and ordered him returned to the dungeon, reserving the passing of his sentence. He must die; she knew that, everyone in the chamber knew it, and yet she could not bring herself to say the words - not yet.
It was evening when Ector had escorted Nella into the chamber, and Gwen's heart broke to see her looking so pale and wane, her dark hair pulled hastily back but obviously lank and unwashed, her red-rimmed eyes darting nervously around and she walked the path to the throne, the suspicious gaze of the assembly upon her, whispering to each other behind their hands.
Gwen wished she had dismissed them earlier, but Merlin had rightly pointed out Nella would be tainted by her father's treason in the eyes of the people unless publicly shown support.
"Lady Nella," Leon spoke up as she stopped before Guinevere's throne. "I inform you that your father, Elis Cartigern, has been found guilty of treason. He has been stripped of his title and privileges, and confined to the dungeon pending sentencing at the Queen's pleasure."
Nella sniffed and nodded, visibly holding back tears. "I know our estate and lands must also be forfeit."
"No, they will not," Guinevere said firmly, raising her voice so everyone could hear. "No one should be punished for the sins of their father. Let all that are assembled here today be assured that Lady Nella and her mother had no knowledge of the plot against us. Their family lands will be retained, and they will be free to return to their estate whenever they wish."
There was a murmur through the crowd, and Nella sank to her knees and ducked her head, clasped hands pressed against her chest. "Thank you, your Majesty."
"Now, please leave us." Gwen rose to her feet. "I wish to speak to my young friend alone."
The crowd shuffled out of the chamber, animatedly talking with one another and no doubt the news of that day's session would be all over town by daybreak. Soon only Merlin remained, lingering until the last of the crowd had left. Nella was still on the floor, head bowed as if she could not bear to look up.
"Nella, I -" he approached her, but she still did not lift her gaze. "I'm sorry if…" he cleared his throat and looked back at Gwen. She gave a small shake of her head and he sighed and left the room, closing the large doors behind him.
Gwen regarded the girl for a few moments, wanting to take her into a firm embrace but unsure if it would be welcome. She knew the pain of losing a parent under grave circumstances, how the sorrow would take deep root in one's heart.
"I know how you must feel," she said softly. "My father was executed by the order of a king."
Nella still did not look up. "What did he do?"
"He - unknowingly - allowed a sorcerer to use his forge." The wound was old, but still painful. "Of course Uther didn't care about that, and knowing he would never receive a fair trial my father tried to escape. Instead of recapturing him, Uther ordered him to be killed on sight."
Nelly sniffed. "And did you hate him?"
"No," Gwen sighed. "I did not hate him."
"So it's not...wrong," she finally lifted her head, her cheeks wet with fresh tears. "That I don't hate you?"
Immense relief flooded through Gwen, and she moved to where Nella knelt, holding out her hands to lift the girl to her feet.
"He is my father," Nella said through her tears, "and I love him. But he was wrong to turn against you my lady."
"I cannot spare him," Gwen squeezed her hands gently. "Even if I wanted to, I'm so sorry."
"I know." Nella's lip trembled. "But can I see him - before? To say goodbye."
"Of course." Gwen drew Nella into her embrace, stroking her hair and letting her cry against her shoulder. She had never been able to say goodbye to her own father who had loved her more than anything else, and had been so unjustly slain. She held Nella close, trying to lend the girl her own strength - nothing would ever be the same for her again.
"Thank you, my lady," she said, clutching at her tightly. "Thank you."