Hello, my friends. Sorry it's late – been very busy.
I've forgotten so much in the last five years but have finally straightened out the story's timeline, including what time of year the story takes place and which crops were actually scorched by Morgana – the spring harvest! So, using the Julian calendar and based on episode 12 series 4, Beltane (May Day) was being celebrated – May 1. Gwen was exiled for two months prior to that and the Southron War ended on May 15 (in this story). Sorrows ended on Monday, May 19 and everything else in between brings us to this chapter which takes place on Saturday, June 7. So lots have happened in a short amount of time with the gang and lots more to come. All that to say, I may have written and posted some details in error – skip over it (lol).
Thanks for reading!
Chapter 13 Threads of Destiny
Castle repairs – dignitary meetings – citizens in need – quarreling councils – fraught plans with ministers – not to forget her coronation and the extensive preparations that entailed.
In their chambers now with Arthur, Gwen welcomed the quiet before another day of full responsibilities consumed her time. Paying little attention to Arthur as they ate supper, she nudged parsnips pieces around the hard-boiled egg on her plate, exhaustion permeating her.
And yet, a sense of balance had awakened in her, altered priorities to new things that now mattered most. She shifted in the chair at Arthur's right, shuffled the roasted vegetables back where they had been … afraid to wonder how she was certain she was pregnant after only a few weeks of intimate unions with Arthur. She lifted her eyes to him as she pierced a few parsnips and chewed them. He was chatting about something while starting on the stew, but she wasn't listening.
She pondered deeply about the man she married. Arthur's beginnings were shrouded in mysteries she was only beginning to grasp. Was it possible that magic was not just woven in his blood, but also in his seed? she thought. Did she truly sense life quickened as they joined on their wedding night – a surreal spark of creation prickling her skin? Could traces of magic be in this child – if indeed she was pregnant – and it now seeping into her, comforting her, giving her new purpose?
The hand on her lap slid to her middle, her thoughts ricocheting wildly from ecstatic joy to terrifying possibilities. What if it was all in her imagination? And what of Morgana's curse – could it twist something so innocent?
Lips thin, Gwen gave her head a swift shake. The fury she unleashed the day before – triggered by a young boy's death and then stinging accusations flung at Arthur – had left her shaken. Had that truly been her speaking with such venom? Shocked by her heightened emotions, clarity had sparked on the way to council, anchoring her to their destined course, thawing her bitterness into hope. She must believe in Arthur's vision. In their love. In this precious gift, imagined or real, now blossoming inside her.
Gwen paused still, surprised to find her enmity toward Morgana now dimmed. Her nightmares of captivity also fading, displaced by an apprehensive yet wondrous hope. In mere days, her cycle's arrival would confirm her deepest desire or cruelly crush what now felt so real.
A knock at the door jolted her, shifting her focus to outward duties still to come – final gown fitting – approving menus and entertainment – reviewing ceremony protocols – and so much more on her list to do before Thursday.
"Come," Arthur called.
Merlin entered the room swiftly, tall and handsome, eyes glinting with their familiar mischief. He bowed awkwardly, lips hinting at a suppressed smile. "Arthur, my queen."
Gwen giggled and Arthur scoffed. "Good lord, Merlin," he said. "Since when do you stand on ceremony with us?"
"Well, she was just 'Gwen' before. Now she's—"
"My wife?"
"The wife of a clod-pole king, soon to be his queen." Merlin rolled his eyes, his grin wide.
Gwen laughed again and Arthur snorted, though she caught his mouth ticking into a smile. She had missed their playful banter, and the affectionate spark in their eyes showed they had too.
"This clod-pole married the wisest and most beautiful woman in the kingdom," Arthur said, grasping her fingers to kiss them, his eyes never leaving hers. His face scrunched as he looked back at Merlin. "And you're just realizing that after all this time?"
Merlin shrugged. "I haven't had time to think about it, really. Training with Galahad – court protocols – transitioning into the role of physician."
He looked at Gwen. His expression turned sincere as he met her eyes. "I only know that I'm very proud of you, Gwen." He smiled warmly, then shifted his gaze to Arthur. "And you, Arthur. Thank you for all you've done and are going to do."
Arthur winked, thumbed to the chair beside him and Merlin sat, reaching for a bowl and then the stew.
Gwen smiled, gazed upon her friend. He looked quite handsome in the red tunic she'd had made for him. He deserved something special to go with his new responsibilities. She'd come to regard him as not simply a wizard. His magic was a special gift to all mankind Gaius had once told her, and she believed it now. The teasing over her status and Merlin's warm words soothed her. At least here in this room, she was still just Gwen.
And yet, could she ever be only Gwen again? The weight of crown and country now awaited her shoulders too.
"Here we are," she said after a moment, peeling a small portion of pheasant meat from bone. "The three of us at last."
"The way it should be." Arthur reached to tear a loaf of bread, nodding with satisfaction. He soaked up some stew gravy and popped the morsel into his mouth, the picture of contentment.
"No." Gwen spoke softly. "We're missing one." Arthur paused his eager chewing, smile fading, then aggressively tore more bread.
Her chewing slowed too, her mind drifting back to simpler times – when she and Morgana shared secrets no one else knew. Morgana had taught her to read and write, bonding them beyond mistress and servant. But time had twisted something once so innocent; only memories lingered now. Gwen exhaled, letting go of the past to face the urgent days ahead.
"You saw her, then?" she asked Merlin, her stomach twisting as she pictured Morgana confined in solitude on a desolate mountain peak, deprived of human contact.
Arthur shifted beside her, his tearing hand stilled, bread forgotten. Piercing blue eyes held uncomfortable curiosity – perhaps even a glimmer of compassion – as he looked upon their friend.
Merlin nodded. "Yes." He reached for his goblet suddenly and drank. Arthur glimpsed at her and then back to Merlin as he continued to consume the wine. Placing the goblet on the table, his Adam's apple bobbed as the last remnants went down. Glassy eyes brimmed with sadness.
"How is she?" Gwen probed. Once so dear, her former friend had cut her deeply. And though now locked away, the whispered threats of her curse may haunt Gwen's hopes.
"Extremely bitter," Merlin simply replied, his gaze lowered.
"Well, she's alive," Arthur huffed, picking up the spoon to resume his meal. "She should be happy about that."
Merlin flashed sorrowful eyes towards Arthur and Gwen tugged at her lower lip.
"You heard Kilgharrah's prophesy, Arthur," she said. "We need her."
Arthur dropped his spoon with a clank and leaned back in the chair, surprise on his face at her seemingly sudden willingness to accept Morgana's foretold path alongside them. He stared at her incredulously – and so did Merlin, though he gave her small reassuring nod.
"We can succeed without her," Arthur insisted.
Gwen reached out a hand and covered his. "You're studying about magic, Arthur," she said, "the doctrines and mysticism of the old religion, their customs and beliefs. Knowing all that you've learned now, do you truly believe that?"
Arthur brooded in his way – face in a deep scowl and lips in a pout; he massaged his temple and forehead. She could not fault him though – hadn't he vowed to shield her from that woman's shadow? Yet destiny seemed to pry open old wounds for them both – yet he choose to lick them sore.
Arthur scrubbed his chin, his shoulders relaxing. Covering her hand with his, his expression became solemn. "I cannot promise that I can make peace with her."
She gave Arthur's hand a gentle squeeze. Perhaps she could stand strong for him too until destiny was reconciled within him. Though, he still had more to weigh and reconcile within fate's design.
"Do you truly desire to fight destiny – jeopardize Albion's future?" she pressed, then immediately regretted her words when Arthur withdrew his hands, frustration thin on his lips. He bent over his bowl and ate in silence – stubborn as the ancient oaks in the Darkling Woods.
Gwen sighed, then salted her egg before taking a small bite and reclining in her chair. Arthur always believed that he controlled his own destiny. Finding out that mystical powers greater than he had plotted his course all along bristled against his being, his manhood, his honor.
"Gwen's, right, Arthur," Merlin said quietly. "Kilgharrah advises patience and wisdom as events unfold. No matter what we do, we can't alter destiny."
Arthur waved his spoon impatiently. "Morgana must be aware of this – collaboration we're supposed to establish," he grumbled. "How does she feel about it?"
"The same as you, Arthur. She despises the thought – doesn't trust us."
"Well," Gwen said. "At least we have a mutual starting point."
"Seriously, Gwen – you? Of all people?" Arthur asked, tossing his arms up in frustration, persistent in his disbelief in her change. "Am I the only one who still sees the threat in her?"
"She's now powerless," Gwen reminded him. "You said as much yourself just yesterday." And she knew belief was a choice – especially now.
"That doesn't mean she's trustworthy!" Arthur exploded, his agitation palpable as he pushed away from the table. Hands on hips, he paced a tight circle, wrestling with unseen doubts.
Gwen bit into her lip, annoyed with Arthur's obstinate resistance to unity – if not compromise. She didn't know why Morgana was still considered worthy, but powers grander and higher than they demanded obedience. "Who are we to defy the prophecy the gods have set forth for us?"
"They're not my gods, nor yours, Guinevere," Arthur said tightly. "Given another chance, she will betray us."
"She has value that we cannot fathom right now, Arthur," Merlin said. "She poses no threat."
Arthur stopped and glared at them both. "She has allies" His words hung ominously.
Gwen's breath caught, but she quickly steeled herself, sitting tall. "Greater powers compel us toward unity – no matter the past. People can change." Her moment of clarity struck just before the council meeting had steadied her. Though Lord Badawi's accusations had stirred her, she had emerged resolute – to stand stalwart for unity, come what may. "For now, we need only use her, not trust her."
Merlin's brows shot up, doubt creasing his face.
Arthur held silent, jaw clenched. His eyes betrayed the anger still churning within, yet her audacity gave him pause. They matched wills; she did not blink.
She continued after a moment, "There is much more guiding us through this – Arthur, your sword. Merlin, your magic…" Her child … She trailed off, studying Merlin. "We've spoken so little about your magic and your past."
"Yes, I know," Merlin said softly, averting his eyes.
Gwen rose and stepped over to him, looking at him warmly. Weary of defending Morgana, she was happy to divert their conversation. Taking his hand in hers, she asked softly, "Will you share some of it with us now?"
"He rides the dragon," Arthur interjected, plopping heavily into his chair with exaggerated weariness.
Gwen clicked her tongue, though a small smile crept onto her lips. "Yes, I do recall you blurting that out last Sunday." She met Merlin's eyes. "What does it mean, to be a dragonlord?"
He nodded, reflecting on how to begin. They'd been friends since that day she introduced herself while he was pinned in the stocks. Even during that humiliating experience, he'd found words to make her laugh. She hoped that spark in him lasted a lifetime. She returned to her seat, and waited patiently for him while she nibbled on a honey nut cake.
"Well, I ... can commune with dragons – speak to them, summon them." He cleared his throat, shifted in his seat. So did Arthur. "Inherited talent from my father, really."
"Your father?" she asked. "You knew him then?"
"Yes. No – not for long." His rims reddened; his voice quivered. "We found him a few days before he was killed."
"Oh, Merlin," she gasped, a hand covering her mouth.
"There was nothing I could do to save him." He recovered after a moment, his voice firmer. "His death was the only way for me to become a dragonlord."
"What a terrible price to pay for a gift." She'd known her father well into her adulthood; missed him even to this day. For Merlin to have only a moment with his father broke her heart. Did the gods also orchestrate their fleeting reunion only to usher Merlin closer to his destiny? "I'm so sorry, Merlin."
"It wasn't easy losing him so soon after finding him." His tears had resurfaced and Merlin wiped his face with a sleeve. Arthur's expression was a shadow of loss and pain, too, his eyes downcast.
"I used to dream about growing up with him," Merlin continued, "learning from him – what my life would have been had he been a part of it. Gaius is the closest I've come to having a father, but it isn't the same."
"Tell me his name," she said softly.
"Balinor."
Arthur said, "He was the dragonlord we sought after the great dragon was freed and attacked Camelot. I didn't know at the time that he was Merlin's father. I discovered that last month."
The peril of the dragon attack came rushing back to Gwen. The raging fires, the broken peoples dropped by it from great heights, the harrowing cries of pain and agony. Her brush with the creature while trying to retrieve fresh water made her skin crawl. Only Arthur's shouting of her name alerted her to the danger diving toward her from the black sky.
She shuddered at memories once repressed now stirred too near. "Did you ever learn who freed the dragon?" she asked with unease.
Merlin stared at the table silently, Arthur chewed his lip, glanced away.
Gwen pressed on, outrage leaking into her voice. "It was you, wasn't it, Merlin?" Her eyes burned with wrath reliving her vulnerability beneath merciless wings and talons. "You set rampaging fury into our skies? What madness seized, unleashing such calamity upon us?" Grace could not restrain the outrage coiling inside; accusation tinged her inquiry.
"I released a creature of light and air from the madness of twenty years of captivity. Yes. I set him free." There was no regret in his voice – only conviction in penetrating blue eyes.
"Don't blame him, Gwen," Arthur admonished her. "As you say, greater powers compel this unity. Maybe it was part of their plans too."
Gwen cast him a scornful look, though she felt her cheeks flush, chastened. Arthur had the benefit of his sword to help him reconcile with their magical pasts and uncertain futures. Merlin was Magic. She was still attempting to catch up with them. She inhaled, centering herself.
"Forgive me, Merlin." Gwen reclined in her chair, the fight ebbing out of her. His past was not hers to judge. "Everything we've done has led to these moments with or without the gods."
"The good and the bad, I suppose," Merlin added. "There's more I need to tell you."
Gwen reached across the table and placed a hand over her friend's white-knuckled fist. "Whatever it is, I promise to do my best to remember where we're headed. I want to see how all the parts of the past fit together." She smiled and returned on her meal.
Listening intently to the telling of his deeds, their meal soon cooled forgotten. Blank spaces in Gwen's memory filled as she listened, disjointed events now imbued with clarity and meaning. She watched understanding dawn across Arthur's face too at times, their friend's solitary sorrows unveiled fully into light at last.
Her eyes drifted to Arthur, his brows now relaxed, hints of a smile on his lips. She caressed her belly, imagining the tiny life they had created. However long the road ahead, they would walk it together with friends beside them. All the shadows of the past could not dim the radiant future she suddenly saw unfolding – Albion, their child, and the adventures left to come.