Part 15: link
Spring comes, bringing with it the sunshine, new green leaves, chirping birds, and a message from King Marke of Cornwall, inviting the new King and queen of Camelot to visit and discuss alliances.
Guinevere wakes slowly, scrunching into the bedclothes, looking for her husband’s warm body.
Where is he? She pries one eye open, then the other, and looks around, only to find him staring into a mirror, regarding his chin.
“Arthur?” she calls softly.
“I think I might grow a beard,” he says, twisting his jaw this way and that, trying to picture it.
“I think not,” she answers, awkwardly sitting up, shifting under the weight of her swollen belly.
“No? You don’t think it will help me look… older? mais distinguished? Wiser?”
“Oh, I’m sure you would look fine with a beard,” she says. “But no.”
“Leon and Gwaine both have them,” he protests.
“Arthur, you sound like a child whose mother isn’t letting him have a sweet.”
“Sorry. But…”
“Yes, Leon and Gwaine both have beards. As do several other knights.”
“But?”
“But I don’t have to kiss Leon or Gwaine or any of those others,” she says, angling her head at him now.
Light dawns. “Right.”
She sits up further, smirking. “Actually, come to think of it, I don’t have to kiss you, either…”
“You wouldn’t dare!” he exclaims, coming back to the bed.
“Grow a beard and find out, then,” she challenges, lifting her chin defiantly at him.
He leans over and kisses her now. “Okay, I won’t. I was just thinking…” He runs his hand idly around her stomach, leaning down to kiss it softly.
“I know what you were thinking,” she says, resting her hand on his cheek. “But having a beard isn’t going to influence anyone’s opinions of you, Love. It’s about what comes out of here,” she places a finger to his lips, and he kisses it, “not what’s around here,” she runs both her hands along his cheeks, chin and neck. “And what’s in here,” she moves her hand to his heart, and he lifts his hand, holding hers there.
“I know. It’s just that appearances seem so important to most of the narrow-minded idiots I have to deal with out there.”
“Arthur. Lord Pearson and Lord Arledge both have beards, and both appear to be very distinguished nobles.”
“Good point,” he says, climbing fully back into cama beside her, pulling her back down to lie beside him. He snuggles up against her and places his hand on her stomach again, caressing gently, his head on her shoulder.
He’s always so preoccupied with my stomach, she thinks. “And we all know that as soon as either of them opens their mouths, everyone immediately learns that they are both colossal idiots.”
Arthur laughs out loud at this, snuggling into her.
“This invitation from King Marke has really got you rattled, hasn’t it?” she asks, reaching her hand up into his hair, running her fingers through.
“Well, considering the last time I saw the man I was an obnoxious twelve-year-old…” he says.
“You weren’t that obnoxious when you were…” Gwen says, stopping when she sees the look he is giving her. “Okay, you were insufferable,” she laughs, leaning over to kiss him.
“I was a total prat until I was about…” he pauses, thinking.
“Twenty-one?” Gwen ventures, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Yes, when I was officially named Crowned Prince,” he nods.
“No, when Merlin arrived in Camelot,” she corrects, grinning. “And when you started realizing that I was a person.”
“Not just a person,” he says, pulling her close. “A woman. A beautiful, intelligent, Valente woman, who puts the needs of others before herself,” he declares, beijar her ardently, leaning over her now. Then he rolls them, pulling her over him as best he can.
“I’m still coming with to Cornwall,” she says, pulling her lips away, sitting back, straddling him now.
“How did you…? Never mind,” he gives up, remembering that she knows him better than he knows himself. He frowns. “I’m just worried about the baby and the traveling,” he says quietly, his hands on her stomach again, caressing lightly.
“Ailith said it would be perfectly fine,” she says, taking his hand and moving it over to one side. Arthur smiles when he feels his baby kick his hand. “He’s busy this morning,” Gwen adds.
“You’re still not riding a horse. We’ll set up a nice wagon for you and you will ride on many soft cushions,” he says, chasing the baby’s kicks with his hand. The silk of Gwen’s nightdress keeps bunching as he slides his hands around, and he humphs and shoves his hands beneath her gown, sliding them up to rest on her skin.
“Arthur!” Gwen exclaims, laughing at his behavior. “Fine,” she acquiesces, “I will ride in a wagon, like cargo,” she rolls her eyes, “on one condition.”
“What’s that?” he asks, his attention becoming further divided, a certain familiar look coming into his eyes now that his hands are beneath her nightdress.
“Smith comes along, too.” She moves his hand again, and he is rewarded with another kick. A big one. “See? Baby agrees.”
“If it will make you happy to bring him, then he can come,” Arthur gives in, pushing his hands upwards quickly, shedding her of her vestido and pulling her face down to his, done talking.
xXx
“All right, my love?” Arthur asks for the tenth time since they set out from Camelot. They are intending to make the trip in two parts, stopping for the night halfway.
“Yes, Arthur, I’m fine. Just bored, mainly,” she calls back, rolling her eyes at him. Gwaine grins over at her and she sighs.
“He’s only letting you come because you may be the only person on this earth who is mais stubborn than he is,” Leon mutters. He’s been riding alongside the wagon where she and Smith have been sitting the whole time, still considering himself her champion.
“No, it’s not that,” Gwaine interjects. “She’s just the only person who could really make Arthur suffer if she doesn’t get what she wants,” he chuckles.
“Well, King Marke’s invitation was to both of us, and he specifically mentioned wanting to meet me,” Gwen says, shifting her position slightly before shooting a pointed glare at Gwaine. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint him and risk insult.”
Leon smiles. “Mother was right. You are a born queen.”
Up ahead, Merlin pulls alongside Arthur. “Where are we stopping?” he asks.
“Fatigued already, Sir Wizard?” Arthur asks.
“No, just curious. Surely you won’t be having Gwen sleep on the cold ground in her condition,” he ventures.
“Of course not. She can sleep in the wagon,” he says, and Merlin’s eyes grow wide with surprise.
“You are too easy sometimes,” Arthur laughs. “I plan on stopping at the same inn where we spent our wedding night.”
“Oh,” Merlin says, his mind reeling now. “Um, okay.”
“Merlin, what did you do?”
“Well, before we left, I encantada the innkeeper and his wife. To cover our trail, you know.”
“And?”
“And their memory of us is slightly… skewed.”
“Skewed?”
“Altered. I kind of… jumbled us up. Made Gwen a tall blonde. They’ll remember you having my coloring, and me having Gwen’s…”
“Can you un-do it?”
“I’ll try. If not, then what’s the harm, really?”
“I suppose none. But do try. They were nice people and I should like to thank them again for their hospitality.”
“Arthur?” Gwen’s voice calls from the wagon.
“Yes?” he asks, turning back towards her.
“Can we stop for a bit? I need to, um, stretch my legs,” she says, looking at him pointedly.
“Oh. Um. Right. There’s a clearing just ahead, near that stream. We’ll stop and get some water and stretch a bit.”
“Water is the last thing I need,” Gwen mutters. Gwaine hears this and snickers.
They dismount, and Arthur helps Gwen down from the wagon. Smith hops easily down, happy to run around a bit. Now fully grown, he is as high as his mistress’s waist and wears a beautiful leatherwork colarinho, colar embossed with the Pendragon crest at regular intervals.
“Smith,” she calls, walking a distance into the woods, and the dog bounds after her, ever at her beck and call.
“Where’s she going?” Merlin asks, and Elyan thumps him on the shoulder. “What?” he asks. Then, “Oh, ‘stretch her legs.’ Got it.”
“For a wizard, you can be a bit dim,” Elyan mutters, chuckling.
“Hey, my brain is busy with mais important things!” Merlin calls after him, trying to defend himself.
Gwen checks that she is far enough away from the men and goes about her business, which is becoming steadily mais awkward for her. Still she manages, thanking the gods once again for her life of servitude because it has given her a stronger body than most Ladies would have.
Smith is snuffling around in the underbrush, lifting his leg here and there on things that interest him. Gwen spies the stream, so she picks her way down, wishing for a small drink and maybe a little cool water on her face to freshen up a bit.
She reaches the bank and crouches as best she can, cupping some of the clear water in her hands.
Behind her, a twig snaps, and she turns her head. “Arthur?” she calls quietly. Then, “Leon? Elyan?” Nothing. “Gwaine? …Merlin?”
A gruff man appears, appraising her. “Sorry, love, I don’t answer to any of them names,” he says, stepping forward. “But I’m wishing that I did,” he says, his eyes scanning up and down, resting only briefly on her pregnant belly.
Gwen says nothing, backing away from him, trying to appear calm. You don’t know that he’s a bandit. The only thing he’s done is look, she tells herself. Looking at me like I’m his seguinte meal, she realizes. She opens her mouth to call for help, and he stops her.
“Ah-ah, no need for that, my pretty,” he says, stalking forward. “Wouldn’t want one of your mates to surprise me and force me to do something… rash, now, would you?”
She closes her mouth, eyes darting to the side briefly. She breathes.
“There, now, that’s—aauurghh!” he screams as a giant grey beast lunges at him, toppling him over. Smith stands on the man’s chest, baring his large teeth, his whole body rumbling with his menacing growl. Then he lifts his head and barks, loudly, several times.
“Get… off… me…” the man struggles, pushing at the solid mural of dog. Smith snaps at his hand, and he stops struggling, jerking his hand away just in time. The dog growls again, then sits, dropping his hind end right on the man’s groin, and he yells in pain, trapped beneath 200 pounds of solid canine.
“Guinevere!” Arthur, Merlin, Leon, and Elyan come crashing down towards them now, swords drawn.
Arthur immediately rushes to Gwen; Leon and Elyan to the man pinned under Smith. “Thank you, Smith,” Elyan says softly. Smith respostas with a soft woof and stands, steps off, and goes to Gwen.
“You: up,” Leon commands, and the man stands. “Do you have any idea whom you just assaulted?”
“He didn’t do anything Leon,” Gwen says from the safety of Arthur’s arms. “Not yet, anyway. Good boy, Smith,” she coos to the dog, who is wagging his long tail at her, looking up at her adoringly.
“Almost assaulted, then,” Leon amends, holding the man at sword-point.
“No,” the man croaks.
“This lady is your queen,” Elyan tells him, lifting his chin proudly. He steps forward, his own sword threatening. “And my sister,” he adds menacingly.
The man goggles, his mouth opening and closing, his eyes darting. They land on Arthur and, recognizing him, he drops to his knees. “Please have mercy, I didn’t know… I didn’t mean nothin’… I would never…”
“Would never what?” Leon presses. “Never have done what you almost did had you known she was the queen?”
He nods.
“Not good enough,” he frowns. “How about never would menace a lady—”
“Especially one with child,” Elyan interjects.
“—at all?” Leon finishes.
“Sire, what shall we do with this toad?” Leon asks.
“Hmm,” Arthur thinks. He looks down at Gwen, traces her cheek with his finger, then steps over. “Lord Merlin, what do you think?”
“L-lord Merlin? The Royal Wizard?” the man stammers, now really afraid.
“Oh, so you aren’t completely stupid!” Arthur declares. “You’ve heard that news, anyway.”
“Well, we can’t take him with us, obviously,” Merlin muses, coming to cadastrar-se Arthur as the regard the man. “We could leave him here and pick him up on the way back. You know, tie him to a tree,” he suggests.
“We’ll be gone several days, Merlin,” Arthur answers.
Gwen bends over Smith, beijar his head and giving him praise, hiding the fact that she is actually laughing now. Leon and Elyan step back, clenching their jaws shut as well.
Merlin shrugs. “He’d learn.”
“What else you got?”
“Well, I could turn him into—”
“No!” the man interrupts, “don’t turn me into anything. I don’t want to be a… frog, or a… spider… or…”
“Newt? I could use some fresh eye of newt, you know,” Merlin says, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
“No, please!” the man grovels. “I’ll be good! I’ll… find honest work… I’ll never do nothin’ bad again…”
“What is your name?” Arthur asks.
“Brockton, my lord.”
“Get out of my sight before I change my mind,” Arthur growls. “If we ever cruz paths in this manner again…” he leaves the threat dangling.
“Yes, my lord. I mean, no, my lord. I mean…”
“Go,” he snaps. The man scrambles to his feet and flees.
Arthur turns. “Guess that dog is worth keeping around after all,” he says. “Come on, let’s get moving.” He holds his hand out for Gwen, and she takes it, allowing him to help her back up the slight colina to the road, where Gwaine is waiting with the cavalos and wagon.
“Eye of newt?” Arthur asks as they walk.
“Wizarding joke,” Merlin says, as if that explains everything.
“I still don’t understand him half the time,” Arthur mutters to Gwen, and she giggles. “You’re okay, then?”
“Yes, Arthur, I told you, I’m fine.”
“I knew I should have come with you,” he says, frowning.
“Smith was with me. Four-legged Knight of Camelot,” she smiles at him.
“I know,” he sighs. He looks down at the dog, watching as he sniffs the air around them. I wonder what goes on in that head of his? he finds himself wondering. “Good boy,” he says, scratching him behind the ear.
xXx
“I know this inn,” Leon says as they dismount. “Bors and I stopped here to inquire about you after you’d fled,” he explains.
Arthur looks at Merlin. “What’s the harm, you asked?”
“I didn’t know Leon had been here!” Merlin exclaims.
“Wait, so you three were here?” Leon asks. “They lied to me…”
“No, they didn’t,” Merlin says. “I encantada them. Mixed up our looks in their memories. They didn’t lie. Not to their minds, they didn’t.”
“And now he’s going to fix it, right, Merlin?” Arthur asks, stepping over to help Gwen from the wagon again.
“Yeah, yeah…” he mutters, then walks to the window, peeking in. They are both inside, within view. Merlin thinks a moment, then closes his eyes. He mutters a few words, his eyes open with a flash, and he turns back to the group. “Okay. Let’s see if it worked.”
“Ah, nothing like confidence in one’s abilities,” Gwaine laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.
“You go first,” Arthur says, pushing Merlin lightly to the door.
“Don’t need to shove, I’m going,” Merlin complains, opening the door.
The innkeeper’s wife gasps, clapping her hands over her bosom. “Eldon! Look who it is!” she exclaims, rushing over to Gwen, who hugs her warmly. “Look at you, Lamb, all ripe with child,” she says, her eyes growing slightly misty. “And so finely dressed!”
“Hollis, don’t gush,” the innkeeper says, starting progressivo, para a frente and stopping. “Wait,” he blinks. “You… you’re that knight. The one looking for the prince…” He blinks at Leon, confused.
“Merlin,” Arthur says in his Warning Voice.
“Ah, let me explain,” Merlin steps forward.
“Still too thin,” Hollis mutters, but she is still smiling.
“Hang on,” Arthur interrupts. He turns to the innkeeper. “You have rooms?”
“Of course, you are always welcome here… you know, I never did catch your name, son.”
“I never gave it, and it was intentional. Forgive me,” Arthur says. “I’m Arthur Pendragon.”
“Prince— I mean, King Arthur? I thought… we thought…” Eldon stammers.
“Merlin will explain everything shortly,” Arthur smiles, clapping the confused innkeeper on the shoulder. “But I want to secure some rooms first.”
“Of course. How many?”
“We’ll double up, my lord,” Leon offers.
“Three, then. And we’d appreciate privacy. I will of course make it worth your while,” Arthur says.
“Three it is, then. Hollis…” the innkeeper is about to tell his wife to flip the vacancy sign to no vacancy, but when he looks up, she has already done it.
“If you’ll set us up with some refreshments, Lord Merlin here will enlighten you,” Arthur says, removing his cape and sitting at a table.
They sit, and Hollis fusses over them like they are her children returned home, particularly Gwen and Merlin.
“Well, when we last stayed here, we were, in fact, fleeing Camelot…” Merlin begins.
He tells of Gwen and Arthur’s love, which delights Hollis. Of Morgana’s treachery, how she framed Gwen, which infuriates Hollis. Their escape. The innkeeper and his wife refuse to believe that Merlin is a wizard until he bangs the shutters on the windows and blows the corks off of several bottles.
Merlin tells some of their life in Lyonesse; how Arthur was a terrible farmer. He even explains to them how they were able to lie to Leon and Bors.
“And how fares Sir Bors?” Eldon asks, setting another tankard in front of Gwaine.
“Sir Bors fell in the battle for Camelot,” Elyan explains sadly.
“Oh, I am sorry,” the innkeeper apologizes.
“He died nobly,” Leon says. “He died saving his kingdom.”
So Merlin launches into the tale of the battle, then, how Lancelot and Percival came to help; how Arthur knighted them.
“Where are these other two?” Hollis asks, frowning. Clearly she wishes to meet all of them.
“They lost the toss and had to stay back in Camelot to keep an eye on things there,” Gwaine says. He winks at her and she giggles like a maid, causing her husband to sigh and roll his eyes.
“Honestly, Hollis, you could be his mother,” he huffs.
“Well it’s not like you pay me any mind any more,” she shoots back.
“Anyway,” Merlin interjects, steering the conversation back, “Lady Morgana had gone quite mad, and—”
“Oi! Eldon!” There is a voice outside and pounding on the door. “Open up! Do you know there’s a donkey sitting out here? What’s going on?”
“Excuse me,” the innkeeper stands and goes to the door, opening it a crack. “I’m closed, Robert,” he snaps.
“Who’re they, then?” Robert motions to the group seated inside, chatting.
“Private party. I’m closed up tonight. What was that about a donkey?”
Robert steps back and points to Smith, sitting attentively outside the door.
“That’s a dog, idiot,” Eldon says, then turns. “Excuse me, but did you bring a dog?”
“Yes, he’s mine,” Gwen says. “Is he being a bother?”
“No, just this fool thinks he’s a donkey, that’s all.”
“Well, he’s nearly as big as one,” Gwen chuckles. “He’s my bodyguard.” Her eyes flit briefly to Arthur, and the fleeting image of two large donkey ears sprouting from either side of his head flashes across her memory. Arthur gives her a look that clearly says Not a word, woman. We agreed.
“Who is she that she needs a guard dog?” Robert asks. “She’s very pretty.” He cranes his neck, trying for another look.
“She ain’t for your piggy eyes, Bob. Besides, she’s married and her husband wouldn’t think twice about breaking your arm for less. Not to mention whatever it is that dog there is capable of. Now go away.”
“But…”
“Closed. Bugger off.”
Robert finally relents, stomping away, muttering something that sounds like, “No need to be rude.”
Eldon turns around to see his wife standing there with a bowl of water and the bone from a cordeiro shank she had made a bobó, guisado of.
“For the dog,” she says, thrusting it at her husband.
He takes it and regards the beast. “Um… here,” he says, setting it down about halfway between them. He knows the dog is Gwen’s protector, but he doesn’t know if the dog knows that he means her no harm.
Smith’s tail thumps a couple times and he lopes over, lapping the water up greedily, sloshing it everywhere. In seconds, the bowl is empty.
“I’ll just… refill that, then,” Eldon says, reaching slowly down. Smith nudges the bowl towards him with his nose, and Eldon jumps in surprise. As he reaches for the bowl, Smith licks his hand in a friendly way.
“Okay,” Eldon says, relaxing. He quickly refills the bowl and returns it to the dog before rejoining the group, now being served the aforementioned cordeiro stew.
Merlin continues his tale, continuing with the battle, only now the other men constantly interrupt him, excited to recount the adventure.
xXx
“If you need anything at all, let me know. I know sometimes when you’re expecting you get cravings for certain things, so…” Hollis tells Gwen outside their rooms.
“Thank you, Hollis, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Gwen says, smiling at the kind woman.
“Queen of Camelot,” Hollis remarks, still trying to get over the news.
“I’m still the same girl that was here all those months ago,” Gwen reassures her, patting her hand.
“No, dear, you’re not,” Hollis disagrees. “Well, you are, but you are… more than you were before, if you take my meaning.”
“Do you have children, Hollis?” Gwen asks.
“I did, once,” she says, her eyes getting a faraway look about them. “I had a son. He was beautiful and sweet. Smart as can be.”
“What happened to him?”
“Died of fever one terrible winter,” Hollis says. “Never was able to have any more; I was already old when I had him,” she adds. “Eldon and me, we got a late start,” she chuckles.
“I’m so sorry,” Gwen says, squeezing her hand now.
“Thank you, dear. Oh, I probably should address you as ‘my lady,’ shouldn’t I?” she asks, slightly flustered.
“Hollis, if it weren’t for your hospitality, I wouldn’t even be here,” Gwen says. “You may address me however you like.”
“Well, my hospitality and your wizard friend,” Hollis corrects, chuckling again.
“Guinevere, are you going to stand in the corridor chatting all night?” Arthur’s voice calls out from the room. It is the same room they had last time; Hollis had made certain of that.
“Be right there,” she answer. “No patience at all, that one,” she mutters conspiratorially.
Hollis shrugs. “He’s a man, even if he is a king.”
Gwen laughs, then hugs the older woman. “Thank you, Hollis. You and Eldon have both been wonderful.”
“My pleasure, Lamb. Now go tend to your husband.”
“Hollis?” Gwen asks, and the other woman turns back.
“Yes?”
“What was his name? Your son?”
“Llacheu,” she says, smiling sadly.
Part 17: link
Spring comes, bringing with it the sunshine, new green leaves, chirping birds, and a message from King Marke of Cornwall, inviting the new King and queen of Camelot to visit and discuss alliances.
Guinevere wakes slowly, scrunching into the bedclothes, looking for her husband’s warm body.
Where is he? She pries one eye open, then the other, and looks around, only to find him staring into a mirror, regarding his chin.
“Arthur?” she calls softly.
“I think I might grow a beard,” he says, twisting his jaw this way and that, trying to picture it.
“I think not,” she answers, awkwardly sitting up, shifting under the weight of her swollen belly.
“No? You don’t think it will help me look… older? mais distinguished? Wiser?”
“Oh, I’m sure you would look fine with a beard,” she says. “But no.”
“Leon and Gwaine both have them,” he protests.
“Arthur, you sound like a child whose mother isn’t letting him have a sweet.”
“Sorry. But…”
“Yes, Leon and Gwaine both have beards. As do several other knights.”
“But?”
“But I don’t have to kiss Leon or Gwaine or any of those others,” she says, angling her head at him now.
Light dawns. “Right.”
She sits up further, smirking. “Actually, come to think of it, I don’t have to kiss you, either…”
“You wouldn’t dare!” he exclaims, coming back to the bed.
“Grow a beard and find out, then,” she challenges, lifting her chin defiantly at him.
He leans over and kisses her now. “Okay, I won’t. I was just thinking…” He runs his hand idly around her stomach, leaning down to kiss it softly.
“I know what you were thinking,” she says, resting her hand on his cheek. “But having a beard isn’t going to influence anyone’s opinions of you, Love. It’s about what comes out of here,” she places a finger to his lips, and he kisses it, “not what’s around here,” she runs both her hands along his cheeks, chin and neck. “And what’s in here,” she moves her hand to his heart, and he lifts his hand, holding hers there.
“I know. It’s just that appearances seem so important to most of the narrow-minded idiots I have to deal with out there.”
“Arthur. Lord Pearson and Lord Arledge both have beards, and both appear to be very distinguished nobles.”
“Good point,” he says, climbing fully back into cama beside her, pulling her back down to lie beside him. He snuggles up against her and places his hand on her stomach again, caressing gently, his head on her shoulder.
He’s always so preoccupied with my stomach, she thinks. “And we all know that as soon as either of them opens their mouths, everyone immediately learns that they are both colossal idiots.”
Arthur laughs out loud at this, snuggling into her.
“This invitation from King Marke has really got you rattled, hasn’t it?” she asks, reaching her hand up into his hair, running her fingers through.
“Well, considering the last time I saw the man I was an obnoxious twelve-year-old…” he says.
“You weren’t that obnoxious when you were…” Gwen says, stopping when she sees the look he is giving her. “Okay, you were insufferable,” she laughs, leaning over to kiss him.
“I was a total prat until I was about…” he pauses, thinking.
“Twenty-one?” Gwen ventures, raising an eyebrow at him.
“Yes, when I was officially named Crowned Prince,” he nods.
“No, when Merlin arrived in Camelot,” she corrects, grinning. “And when you started realizing that I was a person.”
“Not just a person,” he says, pulling her close. “A woman. A beautiful, intelligent, Valente woman, who puts the needs of others before herself,” he declares, beijar her ardently, leaning over her now. Then he rolls them, pulling her over him as best he can.
“I’m still coming with to Cornwall,” she says, pulling her lips away, sitting back, straddling him now.
“How did you…? Never mind,” he gives up, remembering that she knows him better than he knows himself. He frowns. “I’m just worried about the baby and the traveling,” he says quietly, his hands on her stomach again, caressing lightly.
“Ailith said it would be perfectly fine,” she says, taking his hand and moving it over to one side. Arthur smiles when he feels his baby kick his hand. “He’s busy this morning,” Gwen adds.
“You’re still not riding a horse. We’ll set up a nice wagon for you and you will ride on many soft cushions,” he says, chasing the baby’s kicks with his hand. The silk of Gwen’s nightdress keeps bunching as he slides his hands around, and he humphs and shoves his hands beneath her gown, sliding them up to rest on her skin.
“Arthur!” Gwen exclaims, laughing at his behavior. “Fine,” she acquiesces, “I will ride in a wagon, like cargo,” she rolls her eyes, “on one condition.”
“What’s that?” he asks, his attention becoming further divided, a certain familiar look coming into his eyes now that his hands are beneath her nightdress.
“Smith comes along, too.” She moves his hand again, and he is rewarded with another kick. A big one. “See? Baby agrees.”
“If it will make you happy to bring him, then he can come,” Arthur gives in, pushing his hands upwards quickly, shedding her of her vestido and pulling her face down to his, done talking.
xXx
“All right, my love?” Arthur asks for the tenth time since they set out from Camelot. They are intending to make the trip in two parts, stopping for the night halfway.
“Yes, Arthur, I’m fine. Just bored, mainly,” she calls back, rolling her eyes at him. Gwaine grins over at her and she sighs.
“He’s only letting you come because you may be the only person on this earth who is mais stubborn than he is,” Leon mutters. He’s been riding alongside the wagon where she and Smith have been sitting the whole time, still considering himself her champion.
“No, it’s not that,” Gwaine interjects. “She’s just the only person who could really make Arthur suffer if she doesn’t get what she wants,” he chuckles.
“Well, King Marke’s invitation was to both of us, and he specifically mentioned wanting to meet me,” Gwen says, shifting her position slightly before shooting a pointed glare at Gwaine. “I wouldn’t want to disappoint him and risk insult.”
Leon smiles. “Mother was right. You are a born queen.”
Up ahead, Merlin pulls alongside Arthur. “Where are we stopping?” he asks.
“Fatigued already, Sir Wizard?” Arthur asks.
“No, just curious. Surely you won’t be having Gwen sleep on the cold ground in her condition,” he ventures.
“Of course not. She can sleep in the wagon,” he says, and Merlin’s eyes grow wide with surprise.
“You are too easy sometimes,” Arthur laughs. “I plan on stopping at the same inn where we spent our wedding night.”
“Oh,” Merlin says, his mind reeling now. “Um, okay.”
“Merlin, what did you do?”
“Well, before we left, I encantada the innkeeper and his wife. To cover our trail, you know.”
“And?”
“And their memory of us is slightly… skewed.”
“Skewed?”
“Altered. I kind of… jumbled us up. Made Gwen a tall blonde. They’ll remember you having my coloring, and me having Gwen’s…”
“Can you un-do it?”
“I’ll try. If not, then what’s the harm, really?”
“I suppose none. But do try. They were nice people and I should like to thank them again for their hospitality.”
“Arthur?” Gwen’s voice calls from the wagon.
“Yes?” he asks, turning back towards her.
“Can we stop for a bit? I need to, um, stretch my legs,” she says, looking at him pointedly.
“Oh. Um. Right. There’s a clearing just ahead, near that stream. We’ll stop and get some water and stretch a bit.”
“Water is the last thing I need,” Gwen mutters. Gwaine hears this and snickers.
They dismount, and Arthur helps Gwen down from the wagon. Smith hops easily down, happy to run around a bit. Now fully grown, he is as high as his mistress’s waist and wears a beautiful leatherwork colarinho, colar embossed with the Pendragon crest at regular intervals.
“Smith,” she calls, walking a distance into the woods, and the dog bounds after her, ever at her beck and call.
“Where’s she going?” Merlin asks, and Elyan thumps him on the shoulder. “What?” he asks. Then, “Oh, ‘stretch her legs.’ Got it.”
“For a wizard, you can be a bit dim,” Elyan mutters, chuckling.
“Hey, my brain is busy with mais important things!” Merlin calls after him, trying to defend himself.
Gwen checks that she is far enough away from the men and goes about her business, which is becoming steadily mais awkward for her. Still she manages, thanking the gods once again for her life of servitude because it has given her a stronger body than most Ladies would have.
Smith is snuffling around in the underbrush, lifting his leg here and there on things that interest him. Gwen spies the stream, so she picks her way down, wishing for a small drink and maybe a little cool water on her face to freshen up a bit.
She reaches the bank and crouches as best she can, cupping some of the clear water in her hands.
Behind her, a twig snaps, and she turns her head. “Arthur?” she calls quietly. Then, “Leon? Elyan?” Nothing. “Gwaine? …Merlin?”
A gruff man appears, appraising her. “Sorry, love, I don’t answer to any of them names,” he says, stepping forward. “But I’m wishing that I did,” he says, his eyes scanning up and down, resting only briefly on her pregnant belly.
Gwen says nothing, backing away from him, trying to appear calm. You don’t know that he’s a bandit. The only thing he’s done is look, she tells herself. Looking at me like I’m his seguinte meal, she realizes. She opens her mouth to call for help, and he stops her.
“Ah-ah, no need for that, my pretty,” he says, stalking forward. “Wouldn’t want one of your mates to surprise me and force me to do something… rash, now, would you?”
She closes her mouth, eyes darting to the side briefly. She breathes.
“There, now, that’s—aauurghh!” he screams as a giant grey beast lunges at him, toppling him over. Smith stands on the man’s chest, baring his large teeth, his whole body rumbling with his menacing growl. Then he lifts his head and barks, loudly, several times.
“Get… off… me…” the man struggles, pushing at the solid mural of dog. Smith snaps at his hand, and he stops struggling, jerking his hand away just in time. The dog growls again, then sits, dropping his hind end right on the man’s groin, and he yells in pain, trapped beneath 200 pounds of solid canine.
“Guinevere!” Arthur, Merlin, Leon, and Elyan come crashing down towards them now, swords drawn.
Arthur immediately rushes to Gwen; Leon and Elyan to the man pinned under Smith. “Thank you, Smith,” Elyan says softly. Smith respostas with a soft woof and stands, steps off, and goes to Gwen.
“You: up,” Leon commands, and the man stands. “Do you have any idea whom you just assaulted?”
“He didn’t do anything Leon,” Gwen says from the safety of Arthur’s arms. “Not yet, anyway. Good boy, Smith,” she coos to the dog, who is wagging his long tail at her, looking up at her adoringly.
“Almost assaulted, then,” Leon amends, holding the man at sword-point.
“No,” the man croaks.
“This lady is your queen,” Elyan tells him, lifting his chin proudly. He steps forward, his own sword threatening. “And my sister,” he adds menacingly.
The man goggles, his mouth opening and closing, his eyes darting. They land on Arthur and, recognizing him, he drops to his knees. “Please have mercy, I didn’t know… I didn’t mean nothin’… I would never…”
“Would never what?” Leon presses. “Never have done what you almost did had you known she was the queen?”
He nods.
“Not good enough,” he frowns. “How about never would menace a lady—”
“Especially one with child,” Elyan interjects.
“—at all?” Leon finishes.
“Sire, what shall we do with this toad?” Leon asks.
“Hmm,” Arthur thinks. He looks down at Gwen, traces her cheek with his finger, then steps over. “Lord Merlin, what do you think?”
“L-lord Merlin? The Royal Wizard?” the man stammers, now really afraid.
“Oh, so you aren’t completely stupid!” Arthur declares. “You’ve heard that news, anyway.”
“Well, we can’t take him with us, obviously,” Merlin muses, coming to cadastrar-se Arthur as the regard the man. “We could leave him here and pick him up on the way back. You know, tie him to a tree,” he suggests.
“We’ll be gone several days, Merlin,” Arthur answers.
Gwen bends over Smith, beijar his head and giving him praise, hiding the fact that she is actually laughing now. Leon and Elyan step back, clenching their jaws shut as well.
Merlin shrugs. “He’d learn.”
“What else you got?”
“Well, I could turn him into—”
“No!” the man interrupts, “don’t turn me into anything. I don’t want to be a… frog, or a… spider… or…”
“Newt? I could use some fresh eye of newt, you know,” Merlin says, tapping his chin thoughtfully.
“No, please!” the man grovels. “I’ll be good! I’ll… find honest work… I’ll never do nothin’ bad again…”
“What is your name?” Arthur asks.
“Brockton, my lord.”
“Get out of my sight before I change my mind,” Arthur growls. “If we ever cruz paths in this manner again…” he leaves the threat dangling.
“Yes, my lord. I mean, no, my lord. I mean…”
“Go,” he snaps. The man scrambles to his feet and flees.
Arthur turns. “Guess that dog is worth keeping around after all,” he says. “Come on, let’s get moving.” He holds his hand out for Gwen, and she takes it, allowing him to help her back up the slight colina to the road, where Gwaine is waiting with the cavalos and wagon.
“Eye of newt?” Arthur asks as they walk.
“Wizarding joke,” Merlin says, as if that explains everything.
“I still don’t understand him half the time,” Arthur mutters to Gwen, and she giggles. “You’re okay, then?”
“Yes, Arthur, I told you, I’m fine.”
“I knew I should have come with you,” he says, frowning.
“Smith was with me. Four-legged Knight of Camelot,” she smiles at him.
“I know,” he sighs. He looks down at the dog, watching as he sniffs the air around them. I wonder what goes on in that head of his? he finds himself wondering. “Good boy,” he says, scratching him behind the ear.
xXx
“I know this inn,” Leon says as they dismount. “Bors and I stopped here to inquire about you after you’d fled,” he explains.
Arthur looks at Merlin. “What’s the harm, you asked?”
“I didn’t know Leon had been here!” Merlin exclaims.
“Wait, so you three were here?” Leon asks. “They lied to me…”
“No, they didn’t,” Merlin says. “I encantada them. Mixed up our looks in their memories. They didn’t lie. Not to their minds, they didn’t.”
“And now he’s going to fix it, right, Merlin?” Arthur asks, stepping over to help Gwen from the wagon again.
“Yeah, yeah…” he mutters, then walks to the window, peeking in. They are both inside, within view. Merlin thinks a moment, then closes his eyes. He mutters a few words, his eyes open with a flash, and he turns back to the group. “Okay. Let’s see if it worked.”
“Ah, nothing like confidence in one’s abilities,” Gwaine laughs, clapping him on the shoulder.
“You go first,” Arthur says, pushing Merlin lightly to the door.
“Don’t need to shove, I’m going,” Merlin complains, opening the door.
The innkeeper’s wife gasps, clapping her hands over her bosom. “Eldon! Look who it is!” she exclaims, rushing over to Gwen, who hugs her warmly. “Look at you, Lamb, all ripe with child,” she says, her eyes growing slightly misty. “And so finely dressed!”
“Hollis, don’t gush,” the innkeeper says, starting progressivo, para a frente and stopping. “Wait,” he blinks. “You… you’re that knight. The one looking for the prince…” He blinks at Leon, confused.
“Merlin,” Arthur says in his Warning Voice.
“Ah, let me explain,” Merlin steps forward.
“Still too thin,” Hollis mutters, but she is still smiling.
“Hang on,” Arthur interrupts. He turns to the innkeeper. “You have rooms?”
“Of course, you are always welcome here… you know, I never did catch your name, son.”
“I never gave it, and it was intentional. Forgive me,” Arthur says. “I’m Arthur Pendragon.”
“Prince— I mean, King Arthur? I thought… we thought…” Eldon stammers.
“Merlin will explain everything shortly,” Arthur smiles, clapping the confused innkeeper on the shoulder. “But I want to secure some rooms first.”
“Of course. How many?”
“We’ll double up, my lord,” Leon offers.
“Three, then. And we’d appreciate privacy. I will of course make it worth your while,” Arthur says.
“Three it is, then. Hollis…” the innkeeper is about to tell his wife to flip the vacancy sign to no vacancy, but when he looks up, she has already done it.
“If you’ll set us up with some refreshments, Lord Merlin here will enlighten you,” Arthur says, removing his cape and sitting at a table.
They sit, and Hollis fusses over them like they are her children returned home, particularly Gwen and Merlin.
“Well, when we last stayed here, we were, in fact, fleeing Camelot…” Merlin begins.
He tells of Gwen and Arthur’s love, which delights Hollis. Of Morgana’s treachery, how she framed Gwen, which infuriates Hollis. Their escape. The innkeeper and his wife refuse to believe that Merlin is a wizard until he bangs the shutters on the windows and blows the corks off of several bottles.
Merlin tells some of their life in Lyonesse; how Arthur was a terrible farmer. He even explains to them how they were able to lie to Leon and Bors.
“And how fares Sir Bors?” Eldon asks, setting another tankard in front of Gwaine.
“Sir Bors fell in the battle for Camelot,” Elyan explains sadly.
“Oh, I am sorry,” the innkeeper apologizes.
“He died nobly,” Leon says. “He died saving his kingdom.”
So Merlin launches into the tale of the battle, then, how Lancelot and Percival came to help; how Arthur knighted them.
“Where are these other two?” Hollis asks, frowning. Clearly she wishes to meet all of them.
“They lost the toss and had to stay back in Camelot to keep an eye on things there,” Gwaine says. He winks at her and she giggles like a maid, causing her husband to sigh and roll his eyes.
“Honestly, Hollis, you could be his mother,” he huffs.
“Well it’s not like you pay me any mind any more,” she shoots back.
“Anyway,” Merlin interjects, steering the conversation back, “Lady Morgana had gone quite mad, and—”
“Oi! Eldon!” There is a voice outside and pounding on the door. “Open up! Do you know there’s a donkey sitting out here? What’s going on?”
“Excuse me,” the innkeeper stands and goes to the door, opening it a crack. “I’m closed, Robert,” he snaps.
“Who’re they, then?” Robert motions to the group seated inside, chatting.
“Private party. I’m closed up tonight. What was that about a donkey?”
Robert steps back and points to Smith, sitting attentively outside the door.
“That’s a dog, idiot,” Eldon says, then turns. “Excuse me, but did you bring a dog?”
“Yes, he’s mine,” Gwen says. “Is he being a bother?”
“No, just this fool thinks he’s a donkey, that’s all.”
“Well, he’s nearly as big as one,” Gwen chuckles. “He’s my bodyguard.” Her eyes flit briefly to Arthur, and the fleeting image of two large donkey ears sprouting from either side of his head flashes across her memory. Arthur gives her a look that clearly says Not a word, woman. We agreed.
“Who is she that she needs a guard dog?” Robert asks. “She’s very pretty.” He cranes his neck, trying for another look.
“She ain’t for your piggy eyes, Bob. Besides, she’s married and her husband wouldn’t think twice about breaking your arm for less. Not to mention whatever it is that dog there is capable of. Now go away.”
“But…”
“Closed. Bugger off.”
Robert finally relents, stomping away, muttering something that sounds like, “No need to be rude.”
Eldon turns around to see his wife standing there with a bowl of water and the bone from a cordeiro shank she had made a bobó, guisado of.
“For the dog,” she says, thrusting it at her husband.
He takes it and regards the beast. “Um… here,” he says, setting it down about halfway between them. He knows the dog is Gwen’s protector, but he doesn’t know if the dog knows that he means her no harm.
Smith’s tail thumps a couple times and he lopes over, lapping the water up greedily, sloshing it everywhere. In seconds, the bowl is empty.
“I’ll just… refill that, then,” Eldon says, reaching slowly down. Smith nudges the bowl towards him with his nose, and Eldon jumps in surprise. As he reaches for the bowl, Smith licks his hand in a friendly way.
“Okay,” Eldon says, relaxing. He quickly refills the bowl and returns it to the dog before rejoining the group, now being served the aforementioned cordeiro stew.
Merlin continues his tale, continuing with the battle, only now the other men constantly interrupt him, excited to recount the adventure.
xXx
“If you need anything at all, let me know. I know sometimes when you’re expecting you get cravings for certain things, so…” Hollis tells Gwen outside their rooms.
“Thank you, Hollis, I’m sure I’ll be fine,” Gwen says, smiling at the kind woman.
“Queen of Camelot,” Hollis remarks, still trying to get over the news.
“I’m still the same girl that was here all those months ago,” Gwen reassures her, patting her hand.
“No, dear, you’re not,” Hollis disagrees. “Well, you are, but you are… more than you were before, if you take my meaning.”
“Do you have children, Hollis?” Gwen asks.
“I did, once,” she says, her eyes getting a faraway look about them. “I had a son. He was beautiful and sweet. Smart as can be.”
“What happened to him?”
“Died of fever one terrible winter,” Hollis says. “Never was able to have any more; I was already old when I had him,” she adds. “Eldon and me, we got a late start,” she chuckles.
“I’m so sorry,” Gwen says, squeezing her hand now.
“Thank you, dear. Oh, I probably should address you as ‘my lady,’ shouldn’t I?” she asks, slightly flustered.
“Hollis, if it weren’t for your hospitality, I wouldn’t even be here,” Gwen says. “You may address me however you like.”
“Well, my hospitality and your wizard friend,” Hollis corrects, chuckling again.
“Guinevere, are you going to stand in the corridor chatting all night?” Arthur’s voice calls out from the room. It is the same room they had last time; Hollis had made certain of that.
“Be right there,” she answer. “No patience at all, that one,” she mutters conspiratorially.
Hollis shrugs. “He’s a man, even if he is a king.”
Gwen laughs, then hugs the older woman. “Thank you, Hollis. You and Eldon have both been wonderful.”
“My pleasure, Lamb. Now go tend to your husband.”
“Hollis?” Gwen asks, and the other woman turns back.
“Yes?”
“What was his name? Your son?”
“Llacheu,” she says, smiling sadly.
Part 17: link
