*Warning*, this is a mature chapter so anyone who does not like grown up content, then please skip over this chapter. I shall put a recap on the next post so that you know what happens as it is important to the story, however I am just giving you the heads up just in case.

As darkness fell Amaya walked into the tavern, lowering her hood and glancing around. Through the archway was an open area of tables and chairs which men sat up, a few of them sporting wenches on their laps. Further inside was a large area filled with more tables and benches whilst music spilled in from the street outside.

Amaya turned and looked to the bar tucked just behind the open doors, searching for a familiar face. "Maya?" She smiled as she heard Gawain's voice, looking towards him. "We did not know you were coming." She nodded her head and stepped towards them, taking off her cloak and folding it up in her lap.

"I thought I would surprise you all." She replied, taking a seat beside the golden haired knight. "Seeing as times are looking a little dark, I thought it best to spend time with those I care for most." Dagonet slid an ale over to her and Amaya frowned at the drink.

"Go on. Try it." Bors encouraged her in a strangely quiet voice. "The aftertaste is not so bad." Cautiously Amaya curled her hands around the tankard and drew it to her lips, sniffing it precariously before taking the smallest of sips. At first it tasted bitter, making Amaya draw back with distaste but it warmed her belly and the aftertaste left a rather pleasant aroma of apples on her tongue. Deciding that she would simply prefer water, Amaya returned the ale to Dagonet who saluted it to her. "I am not much of a drinker." She told them all weakly.

"Never mind lass, at least you can keep your wits about you. Me? I'm going to drink until I can't tell Galahad from a horse's rear end." Bors grinned, drinking deeply then smacked his lips, frowning at Galahad who scowled at him. "Already seeing the resemblance." The younger knight sprung across the table but Gawain and Lionel grabbed his belt and yanked back into his seat. Amaya chuckled at Bors's humour then shifted in her seat to allow more room for Ector who came and joined them.

"Didn't know you joined in with this sort of thing." Ector remarked as he grabbed an ale from a passing tray a woman carried then drank from it.

"I do not usually." Amaya explained simply, tracing her finger around the rim of her cup thoughtfully, lost in her own mind. "But I thought tonight I would try to relax a little." They all sat in comfortable silence, slightly morbid with the knowledge that soon they would be marching off again to battle in the south to defeat Lazarus in the fort he had hidden himself away in with the last of his men.

Unknowingly Amaya began to sing, humming the tune to follow the music from outside before words began to form on her lips. Everyone looked to her, small smiles gradually rising to their faces as she sang a little louder. Determined to brighten the evening, Amaya grabbed Gawain's hand and pulled him to the open space, turning to face him, continuing to sing.

"Here's a health unto our master, the founder of the feast,
Here's a health unto our master, and to our mistress.
And may his doings prosper, whate'er he takes in hand,
For we are all his servants, and are at his command.

Then drink, boys, drink!
And see ye do not spill.
For if ye do, ye shall drink two,
For 'tis our master's will!

Now harvest it is ended and supper it is past.
To our good mistress' health, boys, a full and flowing glass,
For she is a good woman, and makes us all good cheer
Here's to our mistress' health, boys, so all drink off your beer.

Then drink, boys, drink!
And see ye do not spill.
For if ye do, ye shall drink two,
For 'tis our master's will!"

As she sang Amaya danced with Gawain, taking his hands and letting him spin her around, stepping forwards and backwards simply then galloped up and down the tavern, everyone joining in with the song whilst saluting their drinks, clapping their hands and stamping their feet, Gawain grinning all the while. Amaya finished with a flourish and she smiled as Gawain caught her, lifting her up into the air and settling the woman on his shoulder as she smiled broadly, squeaking as she struggled to keep her balance.

She dropped into her brother's arms who held her securely then clapped her shoulder, laughing as he pulled her back to the table as Bors struck up the next song.

"I'll be drunk in the morn and drunk in the day
Drunk on the drink that I do drink and have drunk
I'll be drunk in the night with a wench in my arms
And I'll still be drunk when the time come to pay!"

Laughing Amaya clapped her hands along, Bors getting his feet to bellow out the tune until her ears rang from the boisterous sound, the tuneless noise growing worse when Lionel joined in. Daniel drew out his little flute and began to play the melody, hopping from note to note lightly as if he were skipping down the street.

A movement caught Amaya's eye and she watched briefly as Lancelot rose to his feet and slipped away, barely having touched his ale. He pulled his hood low over his face to avoid being recognised, slipping back into the castle then climbed his way up to the west tower. She may already be waiting for him seeing as he had had to wait for a good moment for him to leave unnoticed, though Tristan had probably seen him. The scout saw everything.

Lancelot slipped into a doorway as a maid hurried past, carrying an armful of linens in her arms and he did not move again until she was gone from sight. Taking a deep breath Lancelot slipped over to the oak door and pushed past, closing it securely behind him before climbing the hundred steps to the tallest room in the castle which overlooked the lake.

His heart thudded in his chest as he knew what he was about to do. He loved Arthur like a brother but the thought of not being with Guinevere crippled him. He loved her, loved her more than he could explain though he knew she did not exactly feel the same way. He was just danger, some excitement in her life. Her want for him was built on overwhelming lust and desire but he did not care, so long as he could have just a small part of her then he was content.

And the child, she was carrying his child. He prayed it was a girl, for Arthur's sake. He did not deserve sons so he prayed it would be a daughter who would not inherit his brother's throne. If it was a girl, he swore he would not touch Guinevere again until she had given Arthur a trueborn son and heir.

When he reached the door leading into the guest room he stopped, inhaling deeply as his heart began to hammer wildly in his chest. This moment was always the worst, when overpowering guilt would strike him down until he summoned the courage to open the door and look inside.

Guinevere lay on the bed, wearing a thin garment that hardly shielded her body from him. However when she rose and stood in the light of the candles, the fabric became as thin as water and her beautiful shape became silhouetted by the light and all guilt washed from his body as he stared at her.

Her mouth slid open as her tongue moistened her lips, her feet sliding apart to take a seductive stance. "Come to me." She beckoned with a croon and Lancelot went insane with want. He shut the door and tore off his cloak, dropping it to the floor as Guinevere strode forwards to meet him. Lancelot's hands went to her waist, dragging her to him as his hand buried into her hair, forcing her head to tilt upwards so that he could ravage her mouth.

Their passion kindled Lancelot forced her hands aside and gripped the flimsy material, tearing it from her then lifted her up as her hands pulled back his tunic. He dropped her onto the bed, yanking the ripped garb aside then began to remove his clothing, her hands desperately pulling at the ties of his breeches.

He stopped once his torso was bare, dropping his lips to her stomach and began to kiss her soft skin as she moaned, wriggling beneath him as he greeted the child growing in her belly that was his. Once more he prayed it was a daughter. "Lancelot. Hurry." Guinevere gasped, tugging at the last garment he wore. "Quickly!" Unable to disobey, Lancelot did away with his last clothing and he flipped her onto her front, dragging her hips back to him.

She buried her screams into the blankets, crying out in ecstasy as Lancelot awoke a fire in her that Arthur could not even kindle. She panted his name, begging for more which he readily gave, grunting her name repeatedly until he was completely blinded to all save for her.

Quietly Morgana left the door, smirking as she listened to the sounds of their lovemaking begin to disintegrate the more steps she descended. Morgana lifted the locket from around her neck and quietly opened it, the rounded shape bearing nothing inside until she carefully placed a lock of Guinevere's hair she had cut from the woman without her even noticing.

Next Morgana drew a dagger from within her folds, pricking her finger to let three drops of her blood into the locket, joining the small snip of dark hair before she closed it. Instantly Morgan felt warmth spread around her as her body changed its shape and image, becoming the Queen herself.

The locket glowed brightly for a moment as the enchantment Morgana had placed on it fell into place. Continuing to smirk Morgana stepped out into the open hallway and wiped all emotion from her face, lifting her head then walked towards Guinevere's chambers.

On the way she passed several guards who bowed their heads to her, making her gloat inwardly. One day everyone would bow to her. She would be the one and only Queen of England, forever young and beautiful. Morgana glanced towards a servant girl to see if it was that troublesome woman, Amaya. She foresaw great trouble from that lowly born peasant. When she had mistook the other serving girl as Amaya, she had killed her without another thought but her mistake had cost her dearly. Now that suspicions were high, she could not afford to so openly try and deal with the woman.

She would have to wait and bide her time. For now, the first piece of her plan was about to fall into place. Morgana reached into her sleeve and drew out the small vial of a potion she had mixed that day. Taking out the cork she drank half of it, recoiling from the sour and bitter taste before stoppering it once again and continuing on her way. Already she could feel the magic flow into her body, settling the base of her stomach.

Her light footsteps echoed but as she approached the chambers of the royal couple she slowed, taking a moment to pull her hair over one shoulder and slide one sleeve from her shoulder before entering. Arthur looked up and was instantly transfixed by the woman he had married, smiling to her. "How are you my dear?" He asked her, looking back to the letters he was writing. Morgana said nothing, knowing that her voice would not have changed as the enchantment was not that powerful. Instead she closed the door and strode over to Arthur, pushing back his chair to straddle his waist and lowered her head to his, kissing him slowly and seductively before slowly drawing away. "Guinevere." He murmured with a sigh as she drew back and poured a cup of wine for him over at the table next to the closet.

Secretly she slipped the rest of the potion into his drink, stirring it with her finger before taking it over to him with slow, meaningful steps with a sway in her hips that caught the handsome king's undivided attention. He allowed her to lift the goblet to his lips and she tipped some of it into his mouth, his eyes fixed on hers.

She did not let him go until he had drained it and instantly, his eyes began to droop, glazing over slightly as he groaned. Morgana kissed his temple then began to nibble and bite at his ear, breathing huskily as he lifted her up and stood, sliding the dress from her shoulders.

Morgana undressed him slowly but smoothly, her hands never stopping their movement until he was naked before her, his eyes wandering over her own freshness. Unnerved by the sight of him, Morgana lowered him back onto the bed, his eyes still glazed over as he lost all control of his mind.

Her lips wandered down his torso until she began to tease him, making him groan and writhe beneath her as she coaxed him along. Still not yet ready for her, Morgana took his hand and silently willed him to touch her, letting his hand cup her breast whilst the other resting on her thigh. The king, utterly powerless before her, began to respond to her commands, kneading her body until even Morgana began to gasp from the sensations.

His hand touched her womanhood and she cried out a little louder, arching her back as the man drove her into the sheets, kissing her neck and chest as her hand went to his length, stroking him until finally, he was ready. Morgana hooked her legs about him and he instantly moved into position, eyes still dazed from the potion she had given him. For him he remained unaware of all that was going on whilst Morgana was immune to this side effect due to the magic in her blood.

The main point, however, was to guarantee a child. A child was needed for her future plans to work. A son. A son to become king. A cold wind blew out all the candles, abandoning Morgana to the darkness but she did not care, in fact she preferred it. As Arthur took her, she lay back on the covers, grunting every now and then at his single mindedness gave her no fuel for true lovemaking or passion as the night wore on.

Morgana, becoming dissatisfied, pulled him closer with her legs, anchoring him inside of her until she felt the warmth of his seed enter her and she knew that the moment had come. Her plans were now set in stone. She waited until he had finished and had collapsed on top of her, his heavier frame engulfing her as he rolled onto his side and fell asleep.

Taking her clothes Morgana dressed then left him alone, her hands rubbing her belly as she walked away. On the morrow she would leave, back to Ireland where she would raise her son to become a king of many, where she would then rule at his side.