Guinevere stops avoiding Arthur after their conversation, but being around him still isn't easy. They don't seem to know how to behave with one another, especially when others are present.
Every time someone unexpectedly knocks on Guinevere's door, she jumps. Arthur always finds himself looking for glimpses of her while he is hearing petitions from his subjects in the throne room or walking through the castle corridors. Guinevere has found a window from which she can watch the knights train without being seen, and visits it more than she cares to admit. Arthur often finds himself outside the doors of the boys' classroom, just listening to her give them their lessons.
They are polite and cordial when they do encounter one another, trying not to let their gazes linger too long. Being very careful not to touch each other in any way. But they do not seek one another out and Arthur has not invited her to dine with his family again, despite the fact that his sons have asked several times.
The princes have noticed their tutor is once again "friends" with their father, but are thankfully too young to pick up on the tension that exists between the two adults whenever they are together.
Merlin has noticed; so has Freya. Neither of them has said anything to anyone apart from one another. And they only ever speak freely to one another in private.
Weeks pass this way, with the king and the tutor carefully dancing around each other.
I suppose it's better than fighting all the time, Guinevere thinks one afternoon, sinking into a chair in her rooms. She has just returned from a walk in the gardens, where she had been hoping to find some peaceful solitude.
She did find it there, but also found Arthur on her way back into the castle, where they exchanged a few awkward pleasantries. He tried to ignore the dewy glow that had settled on her skin from being out in the warm sunshine, and she tried to ignore how his tousled hair and sun-kissed features from the training grounds gave him the appearance of a simple man who is young and free of care.
She tried not to return his shy smile as he bid her farewell.
She did not succeed.
Guinevere closes her eyes for a moment, then jumps a moment later when someone knocks. Assuring herself it won't be Arthur, as she saw him only minutes ago, she stands and walks to the doors.
"Message from Caerleon for you, Lady du Lac." It is a young man, wearing Caerleon's colors. Sir Leon is standing behind him, obviously there for her protection lest this messenger mean her any harm.
She recognizes this boy and knows he is completely harmless. "Thank you, William," she answers, smiling up at the tall knight behind him.
William grins, bows, and turns to leave.
Guinevere glances down at the scroll in her hand and sees it bears both the seals of Caerleon and Leodegrance. "William," she calls, and the boy stops.
"My lady?"
"Was there a message like this for the king as well?" she asks, holding up the scroll.
He glances at Sir Leon, and the knight nods. "There was a message for the king, my lady. But not like yours. It only had Caerleon's seal."
Curious. "Thank you, William. Sir Leon, would you be kind enough to see to it that this stalwart messenger receives a bite to eat before his journey back?"
Leon nods. "We are heading to the kitchens next, my lady. The king has recommended he stay the night in the servants' quarters and return in the morning. The roads become rather more dangerous as the days grow warmer and longer."
"Of course. Thank you," she replies.
Leon inclines his head in acknowledgement and continues down the corridor with the young man.
Guinevere closes her door and sits, opening the scroll. She knows what it contains. Her brother had written a few weeks ago and told her he had finally asked for Princess Elena's hand in marriage. She had been expecting the invitation any day now.
Her eyes quickly scan the invitation. It is fairly standard for a noble wedding, but not a royal one. Elyan had explained that Elena convinced her mother to allow them to have a small affair. She is the youngest of six children, but not the last to marry. She and Elyan did not want a large, royal wedding, and Annis consented.
At the bottom of the invitation, Elyan has written her a message: Sir Percival will be coming to escort you to Caerleon in two days.
Two days. That is just enough time to find a new dress and pack. She thinks about wearing the burgundy velvet dress from the feast, but decides it will probably be much too warm for that particular gown.
She sets the letter on the table, and it rolls back up on itself. She stands and decides to visit the seamstress, suddenly excited about the prospect of seeing her brother again. Of going home.
xXx
"Ah, Gwen, I've been looking for you," Merlin greets her on her return to the castle. He reaches over and removes the parcel from her hands and offers his arm.
"Hello Merlin," she greets. "I needed a dress for my brother's wedding, so I went to see the seamstress in the marketplace," she says, taking his arm.
"Did I not tell you that you may use the services of the royal seamstress?" he asks, knowing full well he had done so.
"Yes," she answers, "but Elga did such an excellent job with my gown for the feast I wished to give her another opportunity."
"Fair enough," Merlin replies. "When will you be leaving? Do you require an escort?"
"Is that why you were looking for me?" she returns. "Sir Percival of Caerleon will be arriving the day after tomorrow to escort me," she answers. "Did Queen Annis not say so in her letter to the king?" she adds, guessing.
Merlin stops and looks down at her. "How did you know the queen wrote to Arthur?"
"I asked the messenger if the king had received an invitation. He told me he brought a message to the king, but it only had Caerleon's seal, not both as mine had."
Merlin nods, understanding. "She wished to explain and apologize for—"
"For not inviting him, yes, I had guessed as much," Guinevere finishes. They reach her room and Merlin reaches over to open the door for her.
He looks at her. "He wanted to make sure you weren't going to travel alone all that way."
She steps inside, and he follows, leaving the door open. "Of course not." Was he thinking to escort me himself? Surely not…
"I didn't think so. Told him as much." He looks her directly in the eyes and adds, "He insisted I ask."
She stares back a moment, wondering how much Merlin suspects about her admittedly strange relationship with the king. He's a remarkably perceptive man, and no one knows Arthur better than he. He has to be aware of… something. "Please thank him for his concern on my behalf," she quietly replies.
"I will. Freya will be up with your dinner presently," he says, then sets her parcel on the table before turning to leave. He pauses at the door, as if he is going to say something, but then seems to decide against it and continues out.
Guinevere sits at the table, resting her head in her hands. Perhaps I will be able to think with a clear head while I am in Caerleon.
xXx
Percival arrives just as the sun appears over the trees, turning every head as he rides into the courtyard.
Arthur spots him from his window. "Merlin," he says, and his advisor silently appears at his elbow.
"That must be Sir Percival," Merlin observes.
"Thank you, Merlin. I do recognize the man," Arthur returns, his voice tinged with sarcasm. Sir Percival is a pretty unforgettable figure, especially on the field of battle. "I was going to ask you to head down, welcome him, and offer him a bite of breakfast."
"I daresay a man that size requires more than a bite," Merlin says. Percival is the biggest man he's ever seen, astride the biggest horse he's ever seen. "At least you can rest assured Lady Guinevere will be well-protected," he adds, looking sideways at the king, carefully watching his reaction.
A muscle in Arthur's jaw twitches, but his expression stays otherwise neutral. That is, until his eyes widen a moment later. Merlin follows his gaze down to the courtyard below.
Guinevere has appeared, walking briskly to greet Sir Percival. The large man's face lights up in a smile as he sees her, and when she reaches her arms out to him, his hug lifts her off her feet.
Arthur's face darkens and he turns away from the window. "Merlin, I believe I gave you instructions," he snaps.
"Yes, Sire," Merlin replies, and makes a beeline for the door. He thinks about reassuring his master that Sir Percival and Lady Guinevere have likely known each other since childhood, but decides against it, since he's not completely certain that is the case.
It wouldn't do any good anyway.
He meets Percival and Guinevere in the main entrance corridor. "Sir Percival, welcome to Camelot," Merlin greets. "King Arthur sends his apologies, but he is not yet dressed for the day. He will greet you in due course."
"Sir Percival, this is Lord Merlin, the king's advisor," Guinevere says, introducing him.
Percival extends his hand and shakes Merlin's. "A pleasure to meet you, Lord Merlin," he says. "And I am very early, so I understand if the king is not yet prepared for the day."
"Did you travel all night?" Merlin asks, leading the way to the hall.
"Not all," Percival answers. "I stopped to sleep."
"That can be dangerous, especially this time of year," Merlin says.
Percival shrugs. "Bandits tend to leave me alone," he replies. "Can't imagine why," he adds with an impish smile.
"Percival is actually very sweet-tempered," Guinevere tells Merlin as he pulls out her chair. "His family home was near ours and we used to play together as children. Elyan, Percival, Percival's sister Lorica, and me. He's like another brother." She and Percival share a fond smile.
Arthur appears in the doorway, George hovering behind him.
"My lord," Merlin greets, standing. "I believe you know Sir Percival of Caerleon." Percival and Guinevere stand as well.
The king strides forward. "Only from the battlefield," Arthur says, clasping arms with the knight. "We've never been formally introduced. Welcome to Camelot, Sir Percival. It is good to see you under pleasant circumstances."
"It is an honor to meet you, my lord, and thank you for your hospitality," Percival replies.
Arthur gives an answering nod before his eyes flicker to Guinevere for a second. They all take their seats, Arthur waves to George, and servants immediately appear with trays.
"Sire, Lady Guinevere was just telling us how she and her brother think of Sir Percival as family," Merlin says.
"That sounds very nice," Arthur says, trying not to glare at his advisor. He hasn't spoken a word to Merlin about his feelings for Guinevere, but somehow he seems to have figured it out. I suppose that is what I get for having the most brilliant man in the land as my personal advisor.
"Lady Guinevere is even godmother to my daughter," Percival says.
"An honor indeed," he says, wondering if Lancelot was named godfather with her but knowing better than to ask. "Do you have many children?" Learning that Percival is married with children makes him suddenly feel lighter, but he tries not to let it show, hiding behind his goblet as he takes a drink.
"I have two sons, a daughter, and we recently learned we have been blessed a fourth time, my lord," Percival says.
"Really? How wonderful!" Guinevere exclaims. "Oh, forgive me for interrupting, Sire."
Arthur meets her eyes for a charged moment before replying, "There is nothing to forgive, Lady Guinevere. Your reaction is quite understandable." Now that he knows her history, he wonders if it pains her to hear such news. "Congratulations, Sir Percival," he says to the knight.
"Thank you, Sire. This food looks delicious," he says.
They eat quietly for a minute or so, then Percival speaks again.
"Sire," he says between bites, "Forgive me, but I would be remiss to not ask you for advice on battle strategy while I am here." He glances at Guinevere and adds, "Sorry, Gwen, I know this probably isn't high on your list of favorite breakfast conversations."
"It's all right," she replies, in fact quite happy for a topic in which she doesn't have to participate. "Please."
Gwen? Arthur hasn't heard anyone address her so familiarly before, and in fact had never even thought to call her anything but "Guinevere". It throws him for a moment before he regroups and turns his attention to Percival. "I am always happy to share strategies with a trusted ally. With which aspects are you primarily concerned?"
xXx
After breakfast, Arthur excuses himself while Guinevere and Percival head to her rooms. She needs to pack a few last-minute items and make certain she hasn't forgotten anything.
Percival sits at her table while she bustles around. "Camelot is much nicer than I've heard," he comments.
"Yes. I don't know how or why it got its reputation for being primitive and barbaric, but it is not true," she replies. Freya has most of her things in order, but Guinevere's nerves compel her to double check. "I know King Uther was not exactly known for being kind or open to new ideas, but Arthur is not like that at all."
Percival nods. "I know he's an excellent warrior, and he seems like a good king." He pauses, looking at his fingernails. "Is he?"
"Hmm?" she asks, distracted.
"Is he a good king? A good man?" he clarifies.
"Yes," she immediately answers. "And a good father as well." She closes her bag. "I think that's the lot. I'll just call for some pages to carry these things for me, and we can be off." She begins heading towards the doors.
"Gwen," Percival says, and she stops, turning to face him. "If everything is so good… why don't you seem very happy? You were… conspicuously quiet at breakfast. I know we were talking about combat, but you are accustomed to such discussions and usually have at least a few things to contribute."
Guinevere presses her lips together and looks up, then down. "I can't talk about this now," she says. "Not here."
"What is it?" he asks, despite what she just said.
She shakes her head a little. "Nothing. I just… need to think about some things, and I don't think I can do that here. I'm hoping being home will help me get my thoughts in order."
He ponders her words a moment, then stands and says, "We can talk on the way home." She gives him a level look and he adds, "Or not. Up to you."
xXx
Guinevere and Percival walk into the courtyard a short time later to find the three princes waiting near their horses. Percival's giant black steed has been watered, fed, and rubbed down, while a sweet-tempered brown mare has been prepared for Guinevere.
"Lady Guinevere!" Amhar exclaims, running towards her, his dimpled knees pumping with each step. He nearly tackles her, throwing his arms around her hips in a tight hug.
"Hello Amhar," she says, laughing. "Amhar," she adds, prying the young boy off of her, "have you met Sir Percival?"
Amhar looks up and up until he finds the knight's face, his little mouth agape.
"My lord," Percival greets with a smile and a bow.
"You're tall," Amhar says. "You're taller than Sir Leon!"
"Would you like to see what it's like to be this tall?" Percival asks, laughing. By now the other two princes are heading towards them, curious.
Amhar enthusiastically nods. Percival scoops him up and places him on his shoulders. "Oh!" Amhar exclaims. "Oi! Llacheu! I'm taller than you now!"
Llacheu snorts a laugh, shaking his head. He and Gwydre slow their steps as Guinevere and Percival approach. From atop his perch, Amhar is waving at everyone.
A few people have stopped their tasks to watch, but Guinevere doesn't spot the one person she is hoping will come to see her off. Arthur is conspicuously absent.
"All right, Amhar, I think that's enough," she says, and Percival lifts the boy down. "Sir Percival, may I present Prince Llacheu and Prince Gwydre."
Percival bows to both boys. "My lords," he greets. "It is an honor to meet all of you. Maybe one day my sons will be joining you on the field of battle, the way I fought alongside your father."
"You have sons?" Llacheu asks.
"I have two sons and a daughter," he answers. "She's about…" he looks at Gwydre, "your age, I would guess." Gwydre's eyes widen and his cheeks grow pink as he speechlessly gapes at the knight. Percival chuckles, saying to Guinevere, "Give him about, oh, seven years. He might be more interested then."
"Ah, I'm not too late." Merlin's voice interrupts their conversation, and Guinevere turns towards him.
He is accompanied by Sir Leon.
The two knights exchange pleasantries while the final details are tended. Amhar starts crying when Guinevere begins moving towards her horse, and she stops to give him another hug.
"Don't go," he says with a sniffle.
"I must. My brother will be very unhappy if I don't attend his wedding," she says.
He nods, understanding, but his tears continue falling even as he steps back and clings to Merlin's hand.
Guinevere hears more sniffling and sees that Gwydre's eyes are also wet. She steps over and hugs him, then Llacheu before stepping back to her horse, now holding back her own tears.
Percival assists her to her saddle, then mounts his own horse. Guinevere looks around the courtyard once more, hoping for a glimpse of golden hair in the sunlight.
She looks down at the boys to see Llacheu very bravely trying to keep his tears from falling. She gives him an understanding smile before nodding at Percival.
"Safe travels, my lady," Merlin says. His bright blue eyes have a knowing sadness to them, almost like he knows she wishes Arthur were here to see her off.
"Thank you, Lord Merlin," she replies. As they turn their horses, motion in a high window catches her periphery, and she looks up to see the glimpse of golden hair for which she had been previously searching. She only sees him for a moment, but it was definitely him. He wouldn't even come down and bid me farewell.
She sighs and begins following Percival out of the courtyard. Just before they reach the gates, something compels her to look back. She turns her head and looks up towards the window. Arthur is there, watching her ride away, his expression cloudy.
xXx
The journey to Caerleon is mostly uneventful and rather quiet. Percival only tried to draw Guinevere into conversation once, but she again politely rebuffed him, telling him while she appreciates his concern, she isn't yet ready.
They talked a bit about Percival's wife's pregnancy, and he tells her he intended to give her the news personally. Of course she understood and congratulated him again.
When they stopped for lunch, a foolish bandit leapt out at them. All Percival had to do was quickly stand up and bring his hand to his sword to give the man second thoughts. When the knight took a menacing step forward, the bandit bolted, along with a companion who had been hiding nearby.
By the time they reach Caerleon, it is late in the day. They spent the afternoon trading stories about the children: Percival about his own, Guinevere about the princes. Percival cannot help thinking that she sounds like she is speaking of her own offspring when she talks of them, but he does not comment on it.
He is also fairly sure that whatever is troubling her has something to do with the king, because every time Arthur's name comes up, she either looks away, gives vague answers, or changes the subject. Sometimes all three in succession.
Guinevere promises Percival she will visit him and his family before she returns to Camelot, and bids him farewell in front of her family home. "Thank you, Percival," she says. "Both for the escort and for understanding."
"Of course, Gwen. Any time," he answers. "I hope you find the answers you need," he adds, then turns back towards his horse.
She is about to open the doors when they are pulled from the inside, and a moment later, she is enveloped in a hug.
"Elyan," she greets, laughing and crying a little at the same time.
"I'm so glad you're here," Elyan replies. "Come. Let's get you settled." He waves to a servant, who comes forward to collect Guinevere's belongings.
"Shouldn't you be doing something for the wedding?" she asks as they walk to her room.
"Nothing to do right now," he answers. "Elena knows I wanted to be here to greet you."
"And where is Elena?"
"At the castle, probably being bathed and groomed and… whatever you ladies do to keep yourselves beautiful," he says. "What did you do the night before your wedding?"
Guinevere turns to look at her brother. "I paced."
Elyan blinks. "Oh. Um. Right." He doesn't really know how to reply to her answer. It took him completely off guard, since being nervous never even occurred to him.
"Sorry," she apologizes. "It has been a long journey." She sits on her bed, running her hand over the coverlet. "These last few months have been long."
"Oh, no," Elyan says, suddenly worried. "Is it awful? Are the princes nightmares? Is King Arthur a tyrant? You know you can stay—"
She holds up her hand. "No, no, nothing like that. The boys are wonderful. Well, they weren't at first," she chuckles, "but I love them, and I think they love me."
"And the king?"
She sighs. "Have you eaten supper yet? I should like some food."
"Gwen…"
"I will tell you what I can," she promises. "While we eat."
"All right then," Elyan replies. "Come on. Sefa will be here in the morning to attend you, but I did not call for her tonight."
She follows him out and they walk to the hall. "Is she no longer working here?"
"She is expecting," he says. "She's been ill a lot. The midwife says it's normal, but she has chosen to leave us to remain at home."
"She doesn't need to come just for me," Guinevere says. "And it is normal to be sick during the first months," she softly adds, remembering.
Elyan takes her hand. "She wants to come," he says. "She sent a message with her nephew when she heard about the wedding, asking if she could possibly be your maidservant during your stay."
Guinevere smiles and nods.
"Gwen." He stops just outside the hall. "If seeing her with child is going to trouble you, I can—"
"No, Elyan, it's fine. I promise. Many years have passed." She knows exactly how old her child would be right now had he survived, but keeps that knowledge locked inside her mind, sharing it with no one. "I am fine," she insists. He looks at her. "I am fine with that I mean," she clarifies.
He nods, knowing she would not lie to him. "All right."
They head inside and take their seats. Elyan lets her eat a good portion of her dinner before finally asking, "So what is wrong with King Arthur?"
She sets her fork down. "King Arthur is… complicated," she answers.
"That's it? 'Complicated'? Would you care to elaborate?"
"I don't know if I can. Or should."
"Oh, now this sounds interesting," Elyan says, leaning forward.
"Fishwife," she gently teases. "You knights are worse gossips than a group of old women." She sets her napkin on the table and adds, "But you will be disappointed to hear that there is nothing worthy of being called 'gossip'. The king and I have simply… had a bit of a troublesome start. That's all."
"What do you mean?" Elyan asks. "You're being very vague."
"I'm sorry, but I don't know how to explain it in any way that would make sense to anybody. Even you." She sighs. "Even me."
Elyan studies her for a moment. "Has he behaved in an inappropriate manner towards you? Because king or no, if he has…" He makes a show of reaching for his sword.
"No, nothing like that. Trust me, if he had, you would already know because I would have come home immediately."
"All right," he nods. "But you said 'troublesome'. Did you argue?"
"Repeatedly," she says with a chuckle. It's almost funny now. "We have reached an understanding now, but…"
"But…?" he prompts.
"But that's all. I don't know. And that's what's so disturbing."
"Hmm," Elyan says, thinking. He has his suspicions, but holds his tongue for now.
"I'm hoping this time away will allow me to settle my mind," she says.
"I hope so, too," he replies.