It turns out there was at least one person who was disappointed in the lack of a tournament. Lord Gwaine had been looking forward to meeting King Arthur on the field. As one of the few people who has ever beaten the king in a tournament or battle, he always welcomes an opportunity to try for a second victory.
When Arthur discovered this, he arranged a compromise: an extra training session in which any of the visiting lords were invited to join, culminating in some friendly sparring. The knights do not normally train on Saturdays, and while participation was not compulsory, almost all of Camelot's knights were planning on attending.
So the morning after the feast, Lord Gwaine and Lord Mordred joined the Knights of Camelot in training.
Guinevere decided this would be a good opportunity to see the king on the field, especially because Morgana and Kira were also going to the attend. Gaius and Alice have already left for their home, having no desire to participate or watch.
"King Cenred is not joining the knights?" Kira asks Morgana as the three women walk to a tent that has been set up for them.
"Cenred is not even awake yet," Morgana replies. "He does not enjoy training in the morning."
Guinevere remembers how much wine King Cenred ingested the previous night, and is not too surprised by his absence. For a moment she wonders where Lord Agravaine is, but then decides she doesn't really care and is glad he is not there.
The women sit and talk while the knights begin their exercises. There's not really that much to watch right now, it's mostly Arthur and Leon barking commands. Occasionally Gwaine makes a remark, but other than that, it's not very entertaining.
Morgana asks Kira about her pregnancy, and the two women begin discussing children and childbirth at length, so Guinevere mainly listens, having nothing to add.
Upon hearing Morgana describing how she was bedridden for at least half of her pregnancy and for at least two months afterwards due to bearing twins, Guinevere begins to think that perhaps it isn't an awful thing that she is childless.
Then The Question is asked.
"Lady Guinevere, do you have any children?" Kira asks, turning towards her.
"No, Lady Kira, I do not. Lancelot and I were never blessed," Guinevere answers, trying to keep her tone light. It does still sting.
"Oh, goodness, and here we have been going on about bearing children and raising babies! How terribly thoughtless of us!" Morgana exclaims, her hand coming over her mouth.
"It's all right," Guinevere reassures her with a smile.
"No, we will change the subject immediately," Kira says with a definitive nod. "Where on earth did you find that gorgeous dress you wore last night, Guinevere? It was more beautiful than my wedding dress!"
Guinevere chuckles, and the conversation turns to fashion and other, lighter topics. She enjoys this time with Morgana and Kira. After months of talking to mainly the princes and Merlin, it is a nice change. Of course she talks to Freya, and while she enjoys her maid's company, there is still an appropriate distance that needs to be maintained.
"All right lads, Lord Gwaine seems to be laboring under the delusion – again – that he can best me, so what say you? Shall we give him another chance?" Arthur's voice rings out. Cheers follow from the men. He claps Gwaine on the shoulder as the knights form a semicircle around the large open area in front of the women's tent.
"What do I win when I best you?" Gwaine asks, twirling his sword, waiting for Arthur to finish preparing.
"I don't know," Arthur replies with a casual shrug, pulling on his gloves. "That likely won't happen for years, if ever," he blithely says. The men laugh, including Gwaine.
"Oh, come now. Friendly wager?" Gwaine goads. The two men begin to circle one another.
Guinevere watches with great interest, noting that her two companions have also fallen silent. She has seen Gwaine with a sword and knows he is highly skilled. Elyan has only beaten him a few times.
"I do not," Arthur swishes his sword, "make wagers."
"Worried?" Gwaine returns.
"Only for you," the king says. Gwaine then decides to strike, hoping to catch his opponent off guard.
He doesn't. Arthur is more than ready for him, blocking his attack with a laugh.
Guinevere gasps, never having seen someone react as fast as the king just did. Elyan said he had excellent reflexes.
The two men continue, accompanied by the cheers of the men. Gwaine gets in several good hits, but every time he thinks he has the upper hand, Arthur manages to wrest it back. Every time Gwaine tries something unexpected, the king is ready for it.
"His unpredictability makes him predictable," Guinevere mutters, remembering her brother's comment about Arthur's skill in reading opponents.
"What was that?" Morgana asks. She has noticed Guinevere's strong interest in the match, and finds it curious, to say the least.
"Lord Gwaine prides himself on being unpredictable," Guinevere answers, her eyes still on the field. She glances at Morgana, and adds, "I have known Gwaine for many years." She looks back at the men. "But King Arthur is ready for him every time. My brother told me that he has never seen someone as good at reading an opponent as the king."
"Your brother?" Kira asks.
"Sir Elyan Leodegrance. First Knight of Caerleon," Guinevere answers. "He saw King Arthur in the battle with Odin's kingdom."
"Oh, of course," Kira replies. "You seem to know a lot about fighting, Guinevere."
"Do I?" Guinevere asks, looking at the young Lady. "I suppose I have absorbed a few details here and there. I've lived with my brother for most of my life and was married to a knight, so I was always exposed to such things."
"Your husband died in that battle, didn't he?" Morgana gently asks. "The battle with Odin."
"Yes," Guinevere answers. "More than two years ago now."
The queen nods. "Queen Mithian has been gone three years," she responds as if the fact were relevant.
Guinevere puzzles over this, nodding but saying nothing. At least now I know how long ago it was. She turns her full attention back to the field just in time to see Arthur duck under Gwaine's thrust, roll, leap to his feet behind Gwaine, and sweep the lord's feet out from under him. His sword flies from his hand as he hits the ground. The men cheer.
Arthur places his foot on Gwaine's chest, pointing his sword at his nose. "Perhaps I should have made that wager," he says.
"Yeah, I don't know what I have that you would want," Gwaine replies. Arthur moves his sword and offers the other man a hand up.
"I'm sure I would have been able to come up with something," the king casually answers. "Anyone else fancy pairing off for a bit of a spar? Lord Mordred?"
Kira brightens up hearing her king single out her husband. Mordred steps forward, looking very young beside the rest of the men.
"There's a lad. Um…" Arthur looks around, searching for a suitable competitor. "Galahad," he calls, pointing to a young man of similar age and build to Mordred.
"Thank you, Sire," Galahad answers, stepping forward.
"Let's change things up a little, shall we? Mordred: your weapon of your choice," Arthur says.
Mordred nods and steps over to a rack, where he plucks two quarter staffs and tosses one to Galahad.
"He is very good with a quarter staff," Kira says, smiling proudly.
The two young men begin to spar, but Guinevere finds herself watching Arthur.
xXx
Arthur walks through the castle corridors that afternoon, making his way to the courtyard. Lord Mordred (who won his sparring match) and Lady Kira are nearly ready to leave, and so is Lord Gwaine.
His steps slow when he hears laughter. Laughter that sounds suspiciously like Lady Guinevere's, though he is certain he's never heard her laugh like that.
He walks around the corner and sees Gwaine and Guinevere standing just inside the doors, talking and laughing together. He can't hear what they are saying, but something stops his feet from moving closer.
Guinevere smiles up at Gwaine, listening. She replies. He says something back, and she laughs again, leaning forward and placing her hand on his chest for a moment. Arthur's lips press together in a tight line.
Gwaine says something else and Guinevere replies with a nod. Then, she leans forward and lifts up on tiptoe to place a brief kiss on his cheek.
Arthur feels his jaw clench.
Guinevere turns and walks away, thankfully down a different corridor. Gwaine watches her walk away for a few seconds.
"Arthur." Merlin's quiet voice in the king's ear nearly makes him jump, and he turns and glares at his advisor.
"I told you to stop doing that," he snaps. When he looks back towards the doors, Gwaine has passed through them. "I am going to strap—"
"Bells to my boots, yes, yes, you always threaten yet you never follow through," Merlin completes, cutting Arthur off. "Is there a reason why you were standing here glaring at Lord Gwaine, or should I simply draw my own conclusion?"
"I didn't wish to interrupt," Arthur answers. He has no idea how long Merlin was there or if he saw Lady Guinevere, but he doesn't much care at the moment. All he can think about is Guinevere's lips on Gwaine's cheek.
It makes him cranky.
"Right. I believe the last of our guests are waiting for you to bid them farewell," Merlin reminds him. "Do take care to be polite to Lord Gwaine," he adds once Arthur is far enough ahead to be out of arms' reach.
Arthur turns his head and glares at his advisor once more before heading outside, trying to sort out the reason behind his ire.
xXx
Arthur knows it is Guinevere at his door. Her knock is unmistakable.
Merlin never knocks. Leon's knock is loud and precise. George knocks exactly three times in rapid succession. Guinevere's knock is soft but audible, almost like she does not want to damage the wood.
"Come," he calls from his seat at the table, where he is glowering at a length of parchment, quill in his hand.
"You wish to see me, Sire?" she says, still puzzled at being summoned to the king's private chambers.
"You took your time," he replies, not looking up.
Guinevere is taken aback, his demeanor a complete change from the previous evening. She gathers her wits and replies, "Forgive me, Sire. I was reviewing some books I had set aside for Gwydre."
"Hmm," he shortly answers.
"Have I done something to upset you, my lord?" Guinevere asks, startled by his tone and manner.
"No," he answers after a moment. He still does not look at her. He stares straight ahead now, slowly twirling his quill between his thumb and forefinger.
"Forgive me again, Sire, but I am confused," she says, suppressing the urge to pluck the quill from his fingers. "You asked to see me but haven't given any indication as to why."
He leans back in his chair and looks up at her. "Tell me, Lady Guinevere, should I begin searching for a new tutor for the princes?"
"My lord?" she asks, completely perplexed. "Has my performance been unsatisfactory?"
"Not at all," he answers, tossing his quill on the table. "I would simply appreciate advance notice if you are thinking of leaving us."
She blinks, still puzzled. "I… I have no plans to leave… may I ask what it is that has given you the impression I was thinking of leaving, Sire?"
He leans forward again, steepling his fingers for a moment before folding his hands and resting them on the table. "You simply seem to be rather… familiar… with Lord Gwaine."
"Lord Gwaine is a very old and dear friend," Guinevere explains. Honestly, she thinks of Gwaine more as family than anything else.
"I could see that," Arthur replies, his voice heavy with implication.
What? What could he see? "I'm sorry, Sire, but can you speak plainly?"
"You kissed him." His voice is quiet.
"Yes, to bid him farewell," she replies, wondering where he was that he saw them saying their goodbyes. "A simple kiss on the cheek is certainly allowable between old friends."
Arthur makes a noncommittal grunt, then leans back in his chair again. "He's handsome. Charming. Good with a sword. Wealthy. I can understand why—"
"Why what, my lord?" she presses, wishing he would stop dancing around the point.
He looks her square in the eyes. "Why you find him attractive as a suitor."
"As I have already said, he is not my suitor," she replies, feeling her anger grow. Has he not listened to a single thing I have said?
He continues to regard her coolly, and raises a very unimpressed eyebrow as a reply.
She swallows a sigh of exasperation. "I can see you do not believe me."
"I know what I saw earlier today," he answers. "I saw you and Lord Gwaine, familiarly laughing together, in the corridor—"
"Begging your pardon, Sire, but I do not believe I have to explain my actions to you. My personal life is none—" she stops, not wanting to raise her voice. There is no point in arguing further anyway, as he has clearly already made up his mind. She takes a deep breath. "I think I should go," she says, her voice quieter. She turns on her heel to leave.
Arthur feels a sudden lurch in his stomach as he sees her making her exit and has to keep himself from leaping from his chair to physically stop her.
Her hand is on the doorknob when he finally speaks.
"Guinevere…"
"I have lessons to prepare, my lord," she softly says, her voice trembling just a little.
Then she is gone.
In the corridor, she realizes that this was the first time he called her simply by her name. She doesn't allow herself to think about the soft manner in which he said it. She's too angry with him right now.
Guinevere stalks back to her quarters, uncharacteristically speaking to no one on the way. Any kind feelings, soft feelings she allowed herself to have for this infuriating man have been shut away, replaced by the uncomfortable, hot queasiness of ire and humiliation.
"I'd like to be alone, if you please," she says to Freya on entering her chambers. The maidservant nods, her face a mask of worry, then quickly exits.
Guinevere paces, half-formed statements falling from her lips.
"The nerve…"
"…thinks he can dictate…"
"…tell me what I can and cannot…"
"Just because he's jealous—"
She stops short. Is that even possible? Why on earth would he be jealous of Gwaine? Over me?No. No, he couldn't possibly…
She sits. Could he?
xXx
A knock sounds at Guinevere's door just after dinner.
She almost doesn't answer in case she should find Arthur standing there, but then decides doing so is childish behavior and opens the door.
"Lord Merlin," she answers, stepping aside so he can enter.
"Lady Guinevere," he replies. "Freya tells me you would not eat, so I thought I would look in on you and make sure you are not ill."
"Did the king send you?" she asks. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't accuse—"
He holds up his hand, stopping her words. "It's a perfectly understandable, valid question. And no, he did not send me." He drops his hand and adds, "In fact, he had no stomach for his supper tonight, either."
"Oh," Guinevere replies, blinking in surprise.
"Now, I don't know what happened between the two of you, but whatever it is, it's clear he feels terrible about it," he says.
She angles her head as she looks up at him. "How do you know the blame does not lie with me?"
He tilts his head back down at her, giving her a look that tells her he is quite certain she is not to blame for their quarrel. Either that or the king's sharp advisor knows more than he is letting on. He places his hand on her shoulder. "We want you to be happy here in Camelot," he says. "All of us," he insists. "And I know the king can be difficult. I won't make excuses for him, or even give you any explanations, as it is not my place, but… often all he needs is patience."
He does indeed, she thinks.
"I mean it is our job to be patient with him," Merlin explains as though he has read her thoughts. "He will come around." He pauses. "I'm not saying you will definitely get an apology, but he will come around," he adds with a slight smile.
"Thank you," Guinevere says as he turns towards the door.
"You're welcome," he replies with a smile. "Good night, Gwen."
"Good night, Merlin."
xXx
Arthur looks out over the courtyard. A few people are milling about, but it is mostly quiet. He feels truly awful about this latest argument with Lady Guinevere. He knows sending her flowers won't suffice this time, either.
We had been getting along so well. He's not sure why it bothers him so much; why he feels such a need to mend things with her. Usually if he has an argument with someone, which is rare enough in and of itself, he just falls back on "I'm the king and therefore you will do as I wish" and moves on.
He and Merlin sometimes disagree, and they may raise their voices, but if Arthur concedes to his advisor he doesn't feel like this. He's never had such a tempestuous relationship with anyone before.
Even Mithian, competitive as she was, never got under his skin the way Guinevere does. His late wife was kind, but always felt the need to prove herself, even to the point of learning to shoot. Games of chance. Drinking with the knights once or twice. Once she had challenged Arthur to a pickled egg eating contest. She lost, but that is also how they learned she was expecting Llacheu.
Arthur moves to his bed and sits, propping his feet on the trunk at the end of it. Elbows on his knees, he rests his head on his folded hands.
Lady Guinevere doesn't feel the need to prove anything to anyone. She goes about her business with grace and simplicity. Everywhere he goes he hears people singing her praises, from Merlin to his sons to the stablehands.
Of course she would snare the heart of Lord Gwaine. She calls him "friend", but she didn't see the way he was gazing at her. She didn't see him watching her walk away down the corridor.
Unfortunately, Arthur knows he has done the same thing himself. He remembers the feel of her in his arms as they danced and how he felt completely content. He remembers watching her sing, then allowing his eyes to follow her form as she walked from the hall, likely in search of some fresh air. He might have gone out after her had King Cenred not demanded his attention at that time.
If Lord Gwaine had even an inkling she was interested in him, he would court her. He would court her and I would lose her.
Wewould lose her. We. The boys. Camelot.
That's when it finally dawns on Arthur. He is jealous. He thinks Gwaine is trying to take her away from him, and it makes him angry. And the truth is, she is not even his in the first place, which also annoys him. Without warning, Gwaine's words, spoken after Arthur bested him in the training session, drift from the back of his mind. Words he disregarded, words he considered meaningless, but are now sharp and clear, painful in their significance. Yeah, I don't know what I have that you would want…
He flops back on the bed. Now that he has figured it out, he realizes he's known the truth for a while, but has refused to allow himself to see it.
He should have seen it when she stood up to him that day in the throne room.
He should have seen it when he saw her light up when she met his sons.
He should have seen it when he first laid eyes upon her.
I need to make this right again.