A/N: Hi guys! I cannot thank you all enough for bearing with me. It's been a good while since I last uploaded before the previous chapter. Life got in the way, and my studies are my top priority right now. Hopefully there won't be as long a wait as last time. This chapter does get a wee bit racy, so that's why I updated the rating from K+ to T.
IMPORTANT DISCLAIMER: I do not own these characters, although I do love them very much. These characters belong to the BBC and the relevant production companies. Any characters that are of my own creation will be listed below.
OCs: Alara, Ailig, Meilyr
CHAPTER SEVEN
Mordred was a welcome addition to the farmhands, and showed off his skill with the plow and the scythe with ease. He not only impressed Old Man Simmonds, but the farmer Ailig as well. He was making quite the impression on all of the younger women - they all fawned over him and tried to help him with anything he desired. Mordred couldn't even perform basic training in the woods without noticing the group of giggling girls.
"They've never seen such a strapping young man before." Alara mused. She had whisked Mordred away for lunch, offering some cold meat, a hunk of bread, and a plethora of berries. "They're just used to seeing old men and their brothers. Besides Merlin, you're the only eligible match in the village."
"Well, I suppose I'll have to break these poor girl's hearts." Mordred said. "Let them down gently."
Alara laughed and softly kissed him, not caring if the berry juice stained her lips.
The autumn sun was warm, easing off the chill of the morning. Merlin was helping some of the younger men carry the sheaves off to the barn, whilst Mordred reaped the ripe grain. As usual, the local girls gathered at the edge of the field, settling themselves with needlework under the shade of a large oak tree.
Alara approached the field along with her mother and some of the other older women. They carried jugs and cups of fresh water and some food for the hungry men, which they all were glad of. Despite the coolness of the breeze, it was still hefty work.
The young girls all wandered over coyly, dusting their skirts and draping their shawls across their bodies to emulate an older figure. Mordred winked at Alara, setting their plan into motion.
"Here you are." Alara said, offering Mordred a cup.
Smiling, he glanced at the girls before embracing Alara and kissing her softly. The squeals and gasps of disgust overwhelmed the noisy workers. All the villagers watched as the girls stormed off and all started wildly punctuating their disdain with distinct arm movements and loud curses.
"Ah to be young, and to feel love's cruel sting." Ailig laughed.
Mordred had adapted well to the quiet nature of Ealdor. Alara was monitoring his symptoms daily, and after a week, there were no new headaches or other sensations. Mordred seemed to be recuperating quite nicely.
"Hm, seemed like this was the best thing for you." Hunith said.
With all the time spent helping with the harvest, Mordred could feel himself grow stronger. His arm was weak, but that did not deter him into making the effort with reaping the grain. The scars from the bone breaking through his skin were starting to fully heal, looking less like angry pink lines every day.
The time spent also allowed for Mordred and Alara to share each other's presence in the quieter moments of the day. They wandered the edge of the village, resting in clearings and staring at the stars, idly chatting and sharing stories. Alara liked the one's about Mordred's family the most.
"My mother was a good healer." He said. "She was the best out of everyone in our camp."
"I wished I could have met her." Alara whispered.
He smiled, "I think she would have liked you."
Alara laid on her side, gazing at Mordred.
"What?"
"What? I can't look at you now?" She giggled.
Mordred poked his tongue out at her.
"I wish I had more memories of my father." She idly said. "He died when I was only small. I count myself lucky, Merlin never got the chance to meet his father at all."
"Do you remember much about him?"
Alara sighed, "I only really remember that he always smelt like the forest. And that he was tall."
"How do you mean smelt like the forest?" He asked.
Alara thought for a moment. "My father smelled of the earth and of rain and of smoke. He was a woodcutter by trade, as my mother told me."
"Sounds like an interesting job."
"He was an interesting man."
The two young adults laid in the soft grass, listening to the soft sounds of the forest around them. The rustle of the leaves in the breeze and the distinct hooting of birds bought comfort.
"Alara?" Mordred broke the silence. "I love you."
She smiled, "I love you too."
Mordred sat up and gazed at her. Softly grinning, he kissed her, resting his hand on her stomach. Alara reciprocated, pulling him closer and placing a hand on his cheek. The kiss deepened, both moving in sync like leaves in the wind; Mordred let his mind take over, allowing his hands to wander across Alara's body before finally resting on her chest.
She broke the kiss.
"Is everything okay? Is this okay?" He asked.
Alara nodded. "I just needed a moment to breathe."
Both of them chuckled before resuming their kiss.
Mordred's lips traced down Alara's neck, gently peppering her pale skin with kisses. She giggled as he hit a ticklish spot, and bared her neck to him, moaning softly as Mordred nipped at the space where her neck and shoulders met.
She paused.
"What's wrong?"
Alara cleared her throat. "I ... I do want this," She stammered. "But, but not right now."
"Oh. Oh okay."
"I think this would be ... not easier, but more comfortable if we were in a bed-"
"And not a field."
She nodded.
Mordred smiled at her and took her face in his hands. "Okay then. We'll wait until we're back in Camelot."
They kissed once more and returned to the house.
The journey back to Camelot was uneventful: once again, the sky darkened and the rain fell. They were delayed by half a day due to the poor weather causing the roads to become quagmires.
By the time the three finally re-entered the city, they were tired, wet, and needed a hot meal.
Alara invited her brother and Mordred to join her for supper in her chambers. "Gwen doesn't expect me until the day after tomorrow, so we will not be disturbed by the young princes."
The meal itself was welcomed; a small roasted chicken with a thick, creamy sauce and vegetables provided much needed warmth and sustenance for them. The food was wolfed down, and the three were sleepy and satisfied. A kitchenmaid entered, asking if any other food could be provided, which they all noisily declined.
"I'm going to head back to my chambers," Merlin said. "If I'm not careful I'm going to fall asleep at your table."
Both Alara and Mordred waved him off as Merlin trudged out of the room.
"Wine?" She offered.
Mordred huffed, "I'd love to, but I'm expected on the morning patrol. Don't want to spend my morning nursing a headache."
Alara filled a small goblet for herself and settled at the table, trying to get comfortable. "Can I be improper for moment?"
"Of course."
"I'm bloody stuffed."
Mordred laughed, "So am I. I can barely breathe in all this."
Alara sat up. "Shall I help you take it off?"
He shook his head. "I think I'll be okay."
Alara rose an eyebrow. "Are you sure I can't help you take your clothes off?"
It was as if Mordred was struck with lightening before he realised her suggestive tone. "Oh. Ye-Yes. Yes please."
She chuckled, "It's a good job that you're handsome."
Mordred rose from his chair and stood by the fireplace wit his arms wide. "Well come on then." He winked.
Rolling her eyes and smiling, Alara began to remove his belt first, and then proceeded to remove the top layers of clothing before reaching Mordred's shirts. The light grey colouring of his shirt worked well with Mordred's pale skin, bringing more attention to the very light sprinkle of dark hair on his chest. She ran her hands over the skin, eliciting a giggle.
"No. Th-that-that tickles. Don't do that."
She smirked, "Okay then, I won't."
Alara continued, gesturing for Mordred to lift up his arms. Despite staring at his naked chest for two months, she marvelled at his masculine figure; the broadness of his shoulders and the slight definition of his stomach muscles. She softly chewed her lip.
Mordred cocked an eyebrow. "Do you like what you see, milady?"
She poked him in the ribs, making him chuckle.
"Well now, I'm standing here, half-naked, and you're still fully clothed. I think we need to change that." Mordred said. He spun Alara around, and stared at the intricacy of the lacing on the back of her dress. "Now, where do I start?" He wondered suggestively.
Alara took his hands in her own, bringing them down to her hips. "Just here. You work your way up."
Arthur and Gwen walked through the corridor, both of their children being carried in their arms. They talked about the coming day.
"I have a council meeting early in the morning, and then a meeting with some advisors. There are rumours that Lord Bayard is demanding more lands within Mithian's kingdom." Arthur spoke.
There were giggles coming from Alara's chamber. The two could recognise her laughter.
"What do you think is so funny?" Gwen asked.
That's when they heard the deep moans.
Both looked at one another, sharing discerning smiles. "Oh I think I know what's so funny." Arthur smirked. He readjusted his hold on Meilyr. "Let's have the children sleep with us tonight. I don't think I want to have that conversation with them just yet."
"I envy them," Gwen said. "Young love and all that."
"Are you saying we don't have fun anymore?"
She shook her head. "No, but I do think the children should pay their uncle Merlin a visit, don't you think, my king?" She winked coyly.
Arthur nodded. "I think so too."
Alara was atop Mordred, straddling his hips. Both were locked in an ardent embrace, kissing one another with deep longing, letting their hands and bodies do all the talking for them. They smiled and moaned into each other's mouths as they both became more and more enraptured by the emotions flowing between them.
Mordred rolled over, now being on top. He kissed Alara once more, and nipped at her neck. "Are you ready?" He breathed.
"I don't think I've ever been more ready." She beamed. Suddenly she grew wide-eyed. "What are we going to do about the guards?"
Mordred shrugged, "I don't think they're the first or the last to hear two people going at it."
Alara leaned up and pulled Mordred into a fervent kiss.
The light of the morning broke through the thick curtains, faintly illuminating the room. Birds chirped and the general hustle and bustle of the castle broke the lull of the quiet room. Clothes were strewn across the room, with a stray boot somehow lodged atop the wardrobe.
The young couple were a mingle of limbs; both their legs were intertwined and the bedsheets were a pool of red and white fabric around their midriffs. Alara was curled up in Mordred's arms, her head resting against his shoulder. Mordred on the other hand had his arms wrapped tightly around Alara, her small frame nestled against his chest.
A small knock at the door didn't stir them. A laundry-maid sheepishly entered the room, and began to gather up the clothes, muttering and tutting to herself as she carried out her work. She screamed in shock when she noticed the two in the bed.
Alara and Mordred woke up, making an effort to cover themselves to hide their naked bodies from the maid.
"I'm ever so sorry to disturb you," The maid stuttered. "I didn't see you there."
"And you'll do well to make yourself announced when in an empty room!" Mordred said. "Now go! Have one of the other maids come by this room in an hour. Is that understood?"
The maid nodded, curtsied, and made her exit.
"You didn't have to scare her." Alara said.
"Rather scare a laundry-maid than your brother."
