The Long Road Home, Chs. 5 & 6
Two new chapters!
Warning: Herbal birth control - don’t try this at home! :P Rating upgraded to R due to sexual situations.
These are two long chapters (about 5,000 words combined), but I went ahead and posted them both, because I figured if I stopped after chapter 5, you all would come after me with flaming pitchforks. ;) Also I am just plain anxious to share the climax of the story!
Chapter 5
The next afternoon, Morgana was seated in the garden behind the castle, talking to Kian about arrangements for her arrival in Gleanntan. Truly, she could care less about the material of her bedspread or how many cupboards should be available in her chambers. He was a strange little thing, that Kian, but she liked him. There was something sweet and trustworthy about him. Morgana knew the young man had been spending a lot of time with Arthur, and she wondered if she should make a default apology for the way the young servant was probably being treated. Perhaps Merlin had warned him of Arthur’s impatience.
She had successfully managed to avoid being alone with Arthur. The only times they had interacted in the past few days was at the reception for Tavis, and the following meal. Even then, they hadn’t really spoken, but exchanged meaningful glances. She did not trust herself, or her willpower, to be alone with him. It hurt - hurt terribly - but she knew it was for the best.
“You’ll have your own retinue of ladies to attend to you,” Kian was saying. “I believe the selection process is going on right now. They are interviewing some of the most respectable ladies in the land.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need a whole company of attendants. I’ll be bringing my maid, Guinevere, with me.”
“Yes, but from what Sir Tavis has told me, she will only be allowed to stay for one month, to help with transition. After that, she must leave.” He shrugged. “King Tormod is paranoid about spies.”
We’ll see about that, Morgana thought. “And I’ll be bringing Delia with me as well,” she said, nodding to where the little spaniel was rolling in the grass. She remembered when Arthur had given her the puppy as a birthday gift, just three years prior. “Or does your king think dogs work as spies, too?”
“Uh, no, my Lady. But, the King doesn’t allow animals within the castle,” Kian replied. “He is a stickler for cleanliness.”
“She’s a ten pound lap dog,” Morgana volleyed back. “Not a bear-baiting mastiff. She’ll be staying with me.” If she was going through with this marriage, then dammit, she would get her way with these things. Her comfort was vital, and not having Gwen and Delia would only add to her misery.
She scuffed her feet against the ground. “So, tell me about my future husband.” The word ‘husband’ felt so wrong in this context.
“He’s been ruling for a long time. The people love him for the prosperity he has brought to Gleanntan.”
“And what of his looks?” Morgana challenged. She could see the instant, uncomfortable reaction on the part of Kian.
“I don’t know, I’ve never been too close to him. Being a servant, I’ve seen him only from a distance.” His eyes would not meet hers, as though he were hedging.
“Well, what have you heard about him, Kian?”
He sighed. “The truth, my Lady?”
“I need to be prepared,” she said firmly.
“I’ve heard that his teeth are rotten, and that his breath smells like a thousand dead cows on a hot summer day. He is bony all over, except for his big bloated belly. He is bald as a fish and wears a curly wig, and suffers from a wicked cough.”
Her stomach turned, over and over. “Excuse me, Kian,” she muttered, rising from her seat.
This cannot happen. She had to stop it.
---
Not even the guards could hold her back.
Morgana barged past them, with the advantage of surprise on her side, and into the room where Uther was holding a meeting with his council. The men all looked up from the various documents they were discussing, startled by her intrusion.
Uther stood up. “Morgana. What’s the meaning of this? Is something wrong?”
“I’m not going,” she spat.
“Excuse me?” He glanced the men seated around him. “Give us a moment, will you? We’ll reconvene in ten minutes.”
The council, aware that something most heated was about to take place, make their exit quickly. When Uther and Morgana were alone, he said, “What did you say?”
“You heard me. I’m not going.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “The only way you will get me to Gleanntan is to take my dead body on a cart. Tavis is making preparations to leave at this very moment, and I am going to his chambers to tell him the wedding is off.”
Uther grunted. “I was afraid of this. Tell me, Morgana, when Gleanntan declares war on Camelot and I banish you from the castle forever, what do you plan to do?”
“I will get a job in town, or wherever town you banish me to. I don’t need any of this.” Ripping off a bracelet, and a jeweled brooch, she threw them across the table at Uther. “I don’t believe that Tormod, if he is as peace-loving as they say, would risk lives by declaring war on us for a cancelled marriage contract.”
“How little you know of the business of government, Morgana. There are serious repercussions for disobeying a king. In this case, you are disobeying two kings. It is a serious crime.”
“My only crime is loving your son.”
Uther tapped his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “Perhaps I can… motivate you to change your mind.”
She laughed bitterly. “Try your best, Uther. Nothing could make me want to marry him.”
“Lord Kimble of Pembrokeshire has a young daughter who is just of marrying age. Everyone remarks of her beauty. A few of my councilmen have even suggested that she would be a most excellent princess for Arthur.”
Morgana’s breath caught. God, the bastard. He was using her - her love for Arthur - by suggesting a beautiful young bride for him. “You wouldn’t.”
“You will go to Gleanntan, and marry King Tormod as I have arranged. Or, Arthur will be married to Lady Carys immediately.”
“You’re threatening me?” she shouted, the anger so raw that it made her physically hurt.
“Not at all. In fact, I think that Arthur would be most happy with Lady Carys as his bride. She is truly beautiful. She has golden hair, fair skin. You know, young men are often fickle with their affection. I have no doubt Arthur would fall in love with her.”
“What makes you think Arthur will agree to marry anyone but me?”
“He doesn’t have to agree,” he shrugged. “If you try to get out of this marriage, I will put Arthur in the dungeon, and bring the Lady Carys and a priest there to him.”
“You are a bully to your own son,” she snarled. “Your own flesh and blood, and you would treat him as a pawn in a power struggle with me?” A scary realization hit her. “Besides, how do I know you won’t marry him to her anyway?”
“Frankly, Arthur is too young to marry. Wives bring a certain amount of distraction. I’d rather he wait a few years, and learn more about how to be a king.”
“He’ll learn nothing from you but ruthlessness. But if I can spare Arthur from the fate of a loveless marriage, I will do it. I’ll do it with the hope that Tormod will die before too long.” She turned to leave, simply refusing to shed a tear in front of him.
He called after her. “This is the best for everyone. Someday, Morgana, I hope you’ll understand where I am coming from.”
“And Uther, someday I hope you will get what is coming to you.”
~ * ~ * ~
Arthur and Merlin stood on the rooftop of the castle, watching Tavis and Kian leave Camelot. This was his favorite spot to share with Morgana. As children, they would watch the stars here. They had shared several kisses here - one at fifteen, the result of experimentation with wine and a whispered dare, another just several months prior, when the levy holding back strong emotions finally gave way. He had no doubts that he would probably spend many a lonely night here in the future.
As the two figures on horseback grew smaller and smaller, Arthur felt some relief wash over him. “I thought they’d never leave,” he remarked with a grimace. “I couldn’t stand either one of them.”
“Tavis has a personality that leaves something to be desired,” Merlin admitted. “But Kian is a good lad. I think he is a better ambassador for Gleanntan than Tavis is.”
Arthur snorted. “You would say that.”
Merlin shrugged. “Their kingdom is peaceful and prosperous. Nobody wants Morgana to go, but she could have a good life there.” He paused. “Unless you are planning something?”
“We’ve been over this, Merlin. Father said that if I try to interfere, it will just make things harder for Morgana. That’s the last thing I want to do,” he confessed sadly.
Suddenly, far below in the courtyard, Arthur spotted Morgana. She was walking away swiftly, her dress billowing behind her. Judging from the fast pace of her movement, something was wrong - she was upset.
Without any elaboration, Arthur quickly turned and muttered, “I have to go.”
As fast as his legs would allow, he descended the castle steps and made his way to her chambers. As he slipped in the already-open door, he found Morgana slamming items around in a huff. Gwen stood by awkwardly, looking almost afraid of her mistress.
Both women noticed him at the same time. Gwen gestured awkwardly to the door. “I was, uh, just on my way out,” she explained. Excusing herself, she ducked past Arthur and made a beeline for the hall, closing the door behind her.
Then it was just the two of them. It seemed like forever since they had been alone together. The tension was thick, the air dripping with longing and despair. He wanted to rush to her, gather her in his arms, protect her from this future she was headed for.
“Morgana,” he said quietly.
“Arthur.” She was holding her hand mirror, gripping it so firmly that her knuckles were white.
“How are you?”
“I’m well. Thank you.” Her smile was false and forced.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said evenly.
“I have not. I’ve just been… preoccupied.” She lifted her chin, staring at him. She was putting on airs, because little did she know how transparent she truly was.
“Preoccupied? It’s a little early to be packing. What, have you suddenly developed a fancy for your future husband?”
She frowned. “Of course not. But I have to prepare.” She sighed. “What would you have me do? This is the price we pay, Arthur. We live a life of royalty but sell our souls in the process.”
“That’s not the Morgana I know. The Morgana I know would fight for what she thinks is best.”
She strode toward him, glaring. For a moment he wondered if she would use her hand mirror to hit him upside the head. “Maybe you should ask your father why I am not fighting for what is best.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” she frowned, mumbling. “It’s just… this is our only option.”
Arthur felt the frustration rising within him. Why was she not putting up more of a struggle? He put his hands on his hips. “Or maybe you’re looking forward to being bedded by the great King of Gleanntan?”
“Stop.” The tone of her voice told him he had gone too far. “Is that was this is about, then? You’re just mad because I’ll be bedding a king instead of you? Then I was a fool, for I suppose you never really loved me.” She tossed the mirror down on the table with a clatter.
He rolled his eyes. That was the most ridiculous thing she could possibly say. “Oh, really? Is that what you believe? Let me tell you something, Morgana! No, wait, let me show you something.”
Then he grabbed her forcefully, crashing his mouth to hers, swallowing her yelp of surprise. At first she resisted, but only for a second, because she began to kiss him back with equal fervor. There was nothing sweet and gentle about this kiss, it was full of raw, pent-up passion tinged by anger and grief. Their tongues battled for control, and he winced when her teeth marked his lower lip.
Morgana desperately began tugging at his shirt, tearing at the laces and lifting the garment up and over his head. He happily obliged by lifting his arms one at a time, shrugging the shirt away. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her directly against his chest, needing there to be absolutely no space between them. She raked her nails down his bare back, causing him to hiss with delicious pain.
Step by step, as they kissed, he directed her backwards to her bed. Lifting her body, he laid her down, settling over top of her. With her beneath him now, he began kissing her neck and shoulders. The scent of her skin was familiar and sweet. Her own hands explored his body, messing up his hair and caressing his shoulders. “My Morgana,” he breathed, gasping for air before kissing her again. He lightly kneaded her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress, causing her to arch beneath him. She cried out, and his mouth instinctively sought hers again.
He groaned in pain, as his pants had become unbearably tight. She slid her hand between their warm bodies, putting a finger into his waistband, moving it dangerously back and forth. God, he wanted her now more than ever. This could be the last time he would ever be this close to her. Lifting her skirt, he snaked a hand up her leg and to the inside of her thigh.
“Stop,” she murmured between his frantic kisses. The word he had been praying not to hear! He pretended he didn’t hear, but she pushed at his chest forcefully. “No,” she whimpered.
“Yes,” he replied, nibbling her earlobe.
“We can’t do this.” She licked her lips, panting, and pushed him away more forcefully. She rolled out from underneath him, and stood up shakily.
“We can. Remember what you once told me? ‘Damn the consequences’.”
“It’s not that simple!” she protested. Her eyes filled with tears, and a wave of guilt coursed through Arthur. It was wrong, as much as he wanted her. It wasn’t meant to be like this. In his raging grief, he had pushed too hard. They were both in a highly vulnerable state, and he should have known better than to put her in that position.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out, fishing his shirt up off the floor. “Morgana, please-”.
She turned away from him, pointing to the door. “Go. Just go.”
Damn it all. The only thing louder than the slamming of the door was the cracking of his heart.
Chapter 6
Three days before she was to leave Camelot, Morgana visited Gaius in his chambers. She waited until she saw Merlin heading to the stables that morning, to be sure that she could talk to Gaius alone. Quietly, she dashed down the hall to Gaius’s quarters.
Not many people were milling about the castle that early, and she was especially glad she didn’t see Arthur. She had barely spoken to him in the past week. Honestly, she was only a little angry. More than anything, she felt ashamed for allowing herself to nearly make a dreadful mistake. But how wonderful it had been, those few moments! She had spent nights since then lying in bed, her skin tingling as she recalled the passion in Arthur’s touch. Still, it was better this way, she figured, for them to sort of ‘practice’ being apart - no matter that she felt like half a person without him.
Gaius’ door was open, and she peeked her head inside to find him frowning (as usual) over some bubbling concoction.
“Morgana, what can I do for you?” he asked as she walked in.
“I need your help,” she said softly.
“Of course, anything,” Gaius reassured her, patting her back and gesturing for her to sit down. “I can give you some herbs to soothe your anxieties, if that would help. Some ginger will settle your stomach over the long ride.”
She hook her head. “That’s not it. The thing is… if I do not conceive a child with Tormod, I will be sent back to Camelot after he dies.” Which hopefully won’t be too long, she thought. “This is my home Gaius, this is where I belong.”
He studied her curiously. “I don’t understand, my dear-.”
“I think you do,” she said firmly, looking him in the eye. “I may be a maiden, but I hear talk, Gaius. I know there are things that ladies use to… to keep themselves from getting with child.”
His jaw tensed as he realized what she was trying to say. “My Lady, to interfere with nature is considered a sin in every kingdom.”
“Please,” she begged him. “You must know something I can use. Won’t you help me?”
Gaius was silent for what seemed like an eternity. “Nothing is fool proof,” he sighed reluctantly. “But I’ll give you a mixture that has a good reputation for its effectiveness.” He shuffled over and opened a cupboard which contained bottles of various shapes and sizes.
After several minutes of tapping and mixing, Gaius handed Morgana a small pouch. “This is a mixture of wild yam and cotton root bark,” he explained. “Take a small pinch under your tongue, just before you… Well, before he…”.
“I understand,” Morgana said, sparing Gaius any further embarrassment and seizing the pouch from him.
“I beg you, be discrete,” he warned. “If anyone were to find this, tell them it is a remedy for headaches. To be caught carrying such a substance would get both of us in great trouble.”
“Thank you, Gaius,” she said, tearing up. The emotions of the past few weeks were weighing her down.
The old man smiled, and kissed her cheek. And she left, he spoke again. “Morgana?”
“Yes?”
“I hope we’ll see you back at Camelot before too long. You will be missed.”
* ~ * ~ *
On the morning of the departure, Arthur awoke unusually early. On any other morning, he would not wake until he heard Merlin trudging in for his duties - that is, on the mornings Merlin was on time. This would be the last morning he could lie here in his bed, knowing that Morgana was just down the hall. They hadn’t spoken since the heated exchange in her chamber.
There was much to be done before their departure. In his head, he ran through the list of things that still needed to be organized for the ride. His father also requested a meeting with him, no doubt to lecture him about proper behavior and safe-keeping of the dowry.
Arthur had packed his own belongings the night before. It would take two days and two nights to arrive in Gleanntan, then he expected to spend a few days there, before returning. Morgana’s actual coronation wasn’t taking place until a week after the wedding. He was glad he didn’t have to stay for that. In his life he had faced countless armed opponents and magical beasts, but nothing would surely kill him as seeing the woman he had always imagined as his queen being crowned to another.
After getting dressed, he silently crept to her room. He had done it so many times, once even sneaking a frog into her bed when they were thirteen. She had flailed and screamed, then that night when he slid into his own bed, his bare feet met with sticky, cold horse manure.
He knocked his signature five raps, and was surprised by how quickly she called for him to come in. Opening the door, he saw her seated at the window, looking out into the courtyard below. No doubt she was witnessing preparations for their journey.
“I suppose you still hate me,” he said softly, walking across the room.
She smiled, a sad smile which did not reach her eyes or light up her face the way it often would. “I never hated you, and I never could.”
“I wanted to say that I’m sorry. For the other day, I…”.
“No,” she interrupted. “Don’t apologize. The fact is that it will probably be a memory I cherish.” She blushed, and it pleased Arthur to see some humility from her. It even turned him on a little, but he reminded himself this was not the place nor time.
“Anyway, I have something for you.” From his pocket he withdrew the ring he had found in the box under his bed. He had taken it to the king’s jeweler, who polished it up. It was silver with a tiny row of diamonds, nothing fancy, but it had a special history.
Morgana stood up, looking at his outstretched palm curiously. “What is it?”
“This was my mother’s wedding ring,” he explained, taking her hand and pressing the ring into it. “I want you to have it. My father gave it to me, told me to keep it until I met my own queen someday.” He touched her face. “And you will forever be my queen, even if only in my heart.”
“Arthur, I… I don’t know what to say. I’m honored.” Her eyes grew misty as she rang her fingertip around the ring. “I know just how I shall wear it,” she said. Unfastening a necklace she was already wearing, she slipped the band onto it. Now, it dangled just over her heart.
“It’s not as fine as the jewels Tormod has given you,” Arthur admitted.
“No. But it means the world to me. I shall wear it always.”
For a moment they just looked at each other, unsure of what to say or how to express their varied feelings. At a loss, Arthur then grabbed her up in his arms, pulling her to him so tightly. “If only we had been born commoners. Then we could do as we please, and no one would tell us who to marry.”
“No, Camelot needs you as its king. Someday this kingdom will be a better place for everyone, no matter their gifts or rank,” she murmured.
That was quite possibly the nicest thing she had ever said to him, and he was too humbled to respond at first. She believed in him, still, just as she always had. So how was he ever going to manage without her? How could he manage to rule a kingdom, or even breathe, without her here?
“Loving you is the most natural thing I have ever done,” he whispered fiercely into her ear. Arthur was simply not the kind of man who expressed his emotions so freely, but he needed to get this off his chest. “It comes to be as easily as breathing. If I stop, I will die.”
“Then don’t stop. Ever. I certainly won’t.” A smile crept across her face as she tried to lighten the mood. “You’re quite the poet, you know. If your knights heard you speaking this way, they’d have a good laugh.”
“Don’t get used to it. I only go spouting off love sonnets once in a lifetime or so.” He sighed, resting his forehead against hers. “I should get going,” he explained. “I’ve got to see that the cart is loaded and meet with father about delivering your dowry.”
She nodded, and he released her reluctantly. “I have a few more things to finish packing, myself.” Her chambers were almost totally empty, missing the colorful tapestries and bouquets of flowers she usually adorned the rooms with.
“What do you suppose they’ll do with this place once I’m gone?” she asked, as though she could read Arthur’s thoughts.
“I don’t know. Save it for when you visit, perhaps?” he suggested hopefully, walking to the door. He glanced at her once more, realizing that this was probably their last private moment together. “Well. I’ll see you downstairs.”
She merely nodded, but then spoke as he was almost out of earshot. “Arthur?”
He peeked back in to see her fingering the ring beneath the fabric of her dress. “Thank you.”
* ~ * ~ *
This is really happening, Morgana thought to herself as she watched the last of her belongings being strapped to a horse-drawn cart. Poor Merlin was going to be stuck driving the thing, and the stubborn pony who was pulling it would no doubt give him trouble. Faithful little Delia was securely tied in the cart, her favorite blanket beneath her. The rest of them would be riding on horseback - herself, Gwen, Arthur, and two of Camelot’s knights, Sir Renfrew and Sir Bedwyr. Morgana knew them about as well as she did any other knight - they exchanged formal greetings at functions. Not that it made any difference in her fate, but it still felt comforting to have all of them with her for the journey and arrival in her new home. Her new residence, she reminded herself. Gleanntan would never be home.
Gwen and Merlin were milling about with last minute preparations, and Arthur was going over a map with Renfrew and Bedwyr. Attached to Arthur’s pack was the heavy bag of gold coins - her dowry. It made her shudder to see herself equated to goods, as if the old king was doing Uther a favor and buying her off. The bag bulged with the weight of its contents, and Morgana wondered if she had fetched a good price, as far as dowries go. Furthermore, they would be bringing an extra horse along as another part of her dowry - a silver palfrey sired by one of Camelot’s best stallions.
Feeling suddenly faint - she had not been able to eat any breakfast - she wobbled and grasped the cart to steady herself. This was all too real, too fast.
Merlin appeared and touched her elbow gently. “Are you all right, my Lady?”
“I feel as though I am going to my death,” she gasped.
He smiled understandingly. “Don’t worry. We won’t let that happen.”
“I sometimes think I would welcome that, over where I am going.” She allowed him to guide her over to a nearby barrel, where she sat uneasily. It was still early, and she hadn’t slept well last night.
“Don’t say that. Wait here, I’ll get you some water.”
Merlin returned with a flask of water, and she took small sips. Even at that, her stomach turned.
Gwen came over and kneeled beside her. “Can I get you anything before we go?”
Morgana squeezed her hand. “Just stay here with me for a moment.”
Crowds of people had begun to gather, to see off the king’s ward, the woman who many of them had expected would be their queen someday. Uther entered the courtyard. He spoke to Arthur for a moment, then made his way over to her, smiling.
“Time to put on a show,” she murmured under her breath.
Uther took her hands in his. “I never thought this day would come so fast,” he said, speaking loudly enough for the bystanders to hear. “It seems like just yesterday I remember your father telling me you had been born, and how proud he was of you. Today, I know he would be proud of the woman you have become.”
God, she was confused and overwhelmed by emotions right now. She was so angry at him, yet the sight of what was possibly a tear in his eye made her heart quiver. How did he manage to be so cruel one moment, and loving the next?
“I hope so, my Lord,” she said, her voice raspy, and Uther pulled her into a gentle hug.
She found it difficult to return his affection. “Goodbye, Uther,” was all she could manage.
“Be civil to him,” he said as he embraced her. “Remember that you are representing Camelot.” His tone was light but the message was not. It reminded her of her duty.
As she walked to her horse, she nodded and waved to several courtiers, people she had known for years but only considered acquaintances. Still, she would miss seeing their faces.
Gaius was the last in line, and he kissed her cheek. “I wish you a safe travel and that you find happiness.”
He had been in her life for so long, treating her for everything from skinned knees to insomnia. A lump formed in her throat. “Gaius. How I’ll miss you. Do you suppose we’ll ever meet again?”
Gaius smiled. “I hope so, my Lady. I hope you will return to Camelot.”
Morgana did not - could not - look at Arthur as he helped her onto her horse. Everyone else was mounted and ready, and Merlin sat on the wagon seat with the reins in his hands. Arthur mounted his own horse, then called her Sir Renfrew to lead the way. The caravan began to move.
Morgana glanced at the courtyard one last time, where she saw Uther nod and smile. She gave a light wave to everyone, then stared straight ahead, not daring to look back as they began to move toward the valley.
When she finally gathered the courage to look back, the turrets of Camelot had already disappeared into the early morning mist.
--
Chapters 7 & 8 here: http://a-boleyn1230.livejournal.com/138702.html
Warning: Herbal birth control - don’t try this at home! :P Rating upgraded to R due to sexual situations.
These are two long chapters (about 5,000 words combined), but I went ahead and posted them both, because I figured if I stopped after chapter 5, you all would come after me with flaming pitchforks. ;) Also I am just plain anxious to share the climax of the story!
Chapter 5
The next afternoon, Morgana was seated in the garden behind the castle, talking to Kian about arrangements for her arrival in Gleanntan. Truly, she could care less about the material of her bedspread or how many cupboards should be available in her chambers. He was a strange little thing, that Kian, but she liked him. There was something sweet and trustworthy about him. Morgana knew the young man had been spending a lot of time with Arthur, and she wondered if she should make a default apology for the way the young servant was probably being treated. Perhaps Merlin had warned him of Arthur’s impatience.
She had successfully managed to avoid being alone with Arthur. The only times they had interacted in the past few days was at the reception for Tavis, and the following meal. Even then, they hadn’t really spoken, but exchanged meaningful glances. She did not trust herself, or her willpower, to be alone with him. It hurt - hurt terribly - but she knew it was for the best.
“You’ll have your own retinue of ladies to attend to you,” Kian was saying. “I believe the selection process is going on right now. They are interviewing some of the most respectable ladies in the land.”
She shook her head. “I don’t need a whole company of attendants. I’ll be bringing my maid, Guinevere, with me.”
“Yes, but from what Sir Tavis has told me, she will only be allowed to stay for one month, to help with transition. After that, she must leave.” He shrugged. “King Tormod is paranoid about spies.”
We’ll see about that, Morgana thought. “And I’ll be bringing Delia with me as well,” she said, nodding to where the little spaniel was rolling in the grass. She remembered when Arthur had given her the puppy as a birthday gift, just three years prior. “Or does your king think dogs work as spies, too?”
“Uh, no, my Lady. But, the King doesn’t allow animals within the castle,” Kian replied. “He is a stickler for cleanliness.”
“She’s a ten pound lap dog,” Morgana volleyed back. “Not a bear-baiting mastiff. She’ll be staying with me.” If she was going through with this marriage, then dammit, she would get her way with these things. Her comfort was vital, and not having Gwen and Delia would only add to her misery.
She scuffed her feet against the ground. “So, tell me about my future husband.” The word ‘husband’ felt so wrong in this context.
“He’s been ruling for a long time. The people love him for the prosperity he has brought to Gleanntan.”
“And what of his looks?” Morgana challenged. She could see the instant, uncomfortable reaction on the part of Kian.
“I don’t know, I’ve never been too close to him. Being a servant, I’ve seen him only from a distance.” His eyes would not meet hers, as though he were hedging.
“Well, what have you heard about him, Kian?”
He sighed. “The truth, my Lady?”
“I need to be prepared,” she said firmly.
“I’ve heard that his teeth are rotten, and that his breath smells like a thousand dead cows on a hot summer day. He is bony all over, except for his big bloated belly. He is bald as a fish and wears a curly wig, and suffers from a wicked cough.”
Her stomach turned, over and over. “Excuse me, Kian,” she muttered, rising from her seat.
This cannot happen. She had to stop it.
---
Not even the guards could hold her back.
Morgana barged past them, with the advantage of surprise on her side, and into the room where Uther was holding a meeting with his council. The men all looked up from the various documents they were discussing, startled by her intrusion.
Uther stood up. “Morgana. What’s the meaning of this? Is something wrong?”
“I’m not going,” she spat.
“Excuse me?” He glanced the men seated around him. “Give us a moment, will you? We’ll reconvene in ten minutes.”
The council, aware that something most heated was about to take place, make their exit quickly. When Uther and Morgana were alone, he said, “What did you say?”
“You heard me. I’m not going.” She lifted her chin defiantly. “The only way you will get me to Gleanntan is to take my dead body on a cart. Tavis is making preparations to leave at this very moment, and I am going to his chambers to tell him the wedding is off.”
Uther grunted. “I was afraid of this. Tell me, Morgana, when Gleanntan declares war on Camelot and I banish you from the castle forever, what do you plan to do?”
“I will get a job in town, or wherever town you banish me to. I don’t need any of this.” Ripping off a bracelet, and a jeweled brooch, she threw them across the table at Uther. “I don’t believe that Tormod, if he is as peace-loving as they say, would risk lives by declaring war on us for a cancelled marriage contract.”
“How little you know of the business of government, Morgana. There are serious repercussions for disobeying a king. In this case, you are disobeying two kings. It is a serious crime.”
“My only crime is loving your son.”
Uther tapped his fingers on the table thoughtfully. “Perhaps I can… motivate you to change your mind.”
She laughed bitterly. “Try your best, Uther. Nothing could make me want to marry him.”
“Lord Kimble of Pembrokeshire has a young daughter who is just of marrying age. Everyone remarks of her beauty. A few of my councilmen have even suggested that she would be a most excellent princess for Arthur.”
Morgana’s breath caught. God, the bastard. He was using her - her love for Arthur - by suggesting a beautiful young bride for him. “You wouldn’t.”
“You will go to Gleanntan, and marry King Tormod as I have arranged. Or, Arthur will be married to Lady Carys immediately.”
“You’re threatening me?” she shouted, the anger so raw that it made her physically hurt.
“Not at all. In fact, I think that Arthur would be most happy with Lady Carys as his bride. She is truly beautiful. She has golden hair, fair skin. You know, young men are often fickle with their affection. I have no doubt Arthur would fall in love with her.”
“What makes you think Arthur will agree to marry anyone but me?”
“He doesn’t have to agree,” he shrugged. “If you try to get out of this marriage, I will put Arthur in the dungeon, and bring the Lady Carys and a priest there to him.”
“You are a bully to your own son,” she snarled. “Your own flesh and blood, and you would treat him as a pawn in a power struggle with me?” A scary realization hit her. “Besides, how do I know you won’t marry him to her anyway?”
“Frankly, Arthur is too young to marry. Wives bring a certain amount of distraction. I’d rather he wait a few years, and learn more about how to be a king.”
“He’ll learn nothing from you but ruthlessness. But if I can spare Arthur from the fate of a loveless marriage, I will do it. I’ll do it with the hope that Tormod will die before too long.” She turned to leave, simply refusing to shed a tear in front of him.
He called after her. “This is the best for everyone. Someday, Morgana, I hope you’ll understand where I am coming from.”
“And Uther, someday I hope you will get what is coming to you.”
~ * ~ * ~
Arthur and Merlin stood on the rooftop of the castle, watching Tavis and Kian leave Camelot. This was his favorite spot to share with Morgana. As children, they would watch the stars here. They had shared several kisses here - one at fifteen, the result of experimentation with wine and a whispered dare, another just several months prior, when the levy holding back strong emotions finally gave way. He had no doubts that he would probably spend many a lonely night here in the future.
As the two figures on horseback grew smaller and smaller, Arthur felt some relief wash over him. “I thought they’d never leave,” he remarked with a grimace. “I couldn’t stand either one of them.”
“Tavis has a personality that leaves something to be desired,” Merlin admitted. “But Kian is a good lad. I think he is a better ambassador for Gleanntan than Tavis is.”
Arthur snorted. “You would say that.”
Merlin shrugged. “Their kingdom is peaceful and prosperous. Nobody wants Morgana to go, but she could have a good life there.” He paused. “Unless you are planning something?”
“We’ve been over this, Merlin. Father said that if I try to interfere, it will just make things harder for Morgana. That’s the last thing I want to do,” he confessed sadly.
Suddenly, far below in the courtyard, Arthur spotted Morgana. She was walking away swiftly, her dress billowing behind her. Judging from the fast pace of her movement, something was wrong - she was upset.
Without any elaboration, Arthur quickly turned and muttered, “I have to go.”
As fast as his legs would allow, he descended the castle steps and made his way to her chambers. As he slipped in the already-open door, he found Morgana slamming items around in a huff. Gwen stood by awkwardly, looking almost afraid of her mistress.
Both women noticed him at the same time. Gwen gestured awkwardly to the door. “I was, uh, just on my way out,” she explained. Excusing herself, she ducked past Arthur and made a beeline for the hall, closing the door behind her.
Then it was just the two of them. It seemed like forever since they had been alone together. The tension was thick, the air dripping with longing and despair. He wanted to rush to her, gather her in his arms, protect her from this future she was headed for.
“Morgana,” he said quietly.
“Arthur.” She was holding her hand mirror, gripping it so firmly that her knuckles were white.
“How are you?”
“I’m well. Thank you.” Her smile was false and forced.
“You’ve been avoiding me,” he said evenly.
“I have not. I’ve just been… preoccupied.” She lifted her chin, staring at him. She was putting on airs, because little did she know how transparent she truly was.
“Preoccupied? It’s a little early to be packing. What, have you suddenly developed a fancy for your future husband?”
She frowned. “Of course not. But I have to prepare.” She sighed. “What would you have me do? This is the price we pay, Arthur. We live a life of royalty but sell our souls in the process.”
“That’s not the Morgana I know. The Morgana I know would fight for what she thinks is best.”
She strode toward him, glaring. For a moment he wondered if she would use her hand mirror to hit him upside the head. “Maybe you should ask your father why I am not fighting for what is best.”
“What is that supposed to mean?”
“Nothing,” she frowned, mumbling. “It’s just… this is our only option.”
Arthur felt the frustration rising within him. Why was she not putting up more of a struggle? He put his hands on his hips. “Or maybe you’re looking forward to being bedded by the great King of Gleanntan?”
“Stop.” The tone of her voice told him he had gone too far. “Is that was this is about, then? You’re just mad because I’ll be bedding a king instead of you? Then I was a fool, for I suppose you never really loved me.” She tossed the mirror down on the table with a clatter.
He rolled his eyes. That was the most ridiculous thing she could possibly say. “Oh, really? Is that what you believe? Let me tell you something, Morgana! No, wait, let me show you something.”
Then he grabbed her forcefully, crashing his mouth to hers, swallowing her yelp of surprise. At first she resisted, but only for a second, because she began to kiss him back with equal fervor. There was nothing sweet and gentle about this kiss, it was full of raw, pent-up passion tinged by anger and grief. Their tongues battled for control, and he winced when her teeth marked his lower lip.
Morgana desperately began tugging at his shirt, tearing at the laces and lifting the garment up and over his head. He happily obliged by lifting his arms one at a time, shrugging the shirt away. He wrapped his arms around her waist and pulled her directly against his chest, needing there to be absolutely no space between them. She raked her nails down his bare back, causing him to hiss with delicious pain.
Step by step, as they kissed, he directed her backwards to her bed. Lifting her body, he laid her down, settling over top of her. With her beneath him now, he began kissing her neck and shoulders. The scent of her skin was familiar and sweet. Her own hands explored his body, messing up his hair and caressing his shoulders. “My Morgana,” he breathed, gasping for air before kissing her again. He lightly kneaded her breasts through the thin fabric of her dress, causing her to arch beneath him. She cried out, and his mouth instinctively sought hers again.
He groaned in pain, as his pants had become unbearably tight. She slid her hand between their warm bodies, putting a finger into his waistband, moving it dangerously back and forth. God, he wanted her now more than ever. This could be the last time he would ever be this close to her. Lifting her skirt, he snaked a hand up her leg and to the inside of her thigh.
“Stop,” she murmured between his frantic kisses. The word he had been praying not to hear! He pretended he didn’t hear, but she pushed at his chest forcefully. “No,” she whimpered.
“Yes,” he replied, nibbling her earlobe.
“We can’t do this.” She licked her lips, panting, and pushed him away more forcefully. She rolled out from underneath him, and stood up shakily.
“We can. Remember what you once told me? ‘Damn the consequences’.”
“It’s not that simple!” she protested. Her eyes filled with tears, and a wave of guilt coursed through Arthur. It was wrong, as much as he wanted her. It wasn’t meant to be like this. In his raging grief, he had pushed too hard. They were both in a highly vulnerable state, and he should have known better than to put her in that position.
“I’m sorry,” he choked out, fishing his shirt up off the floor. “Morgana, please-”.
She turned away from him, pointing to the door. “Go. Just go.”
Damn it all. The only thing louder than the slamming of the door was the cracking of his heart.
Chapter 6
Three days before she was to leave Camelot, Morgana visited Gaius in his chambers. She waited until she saw Merlin heading to the stables that morning, to be sure that she could talk to Gaius alone. Quietly, she dashed down the hall to Gaius’s quarters.
Not many people were milling about the castle that early, and she was especially glad she didn’t see Arthur. She had barely spoken to him in the past week. Honestly, she was only a little angry. More than anything, she felt ashamed for allowing herself to nearly make a dreadful mistake. But how wonderful it had been, those few moments! She had spent nights since then lying in bed, her skin tingling as she recalled the passion in Arthur’s touch. Still, it was better this way, she figured, for them to sort of ‘practice’ being apart - no matter that she felt like half a person without him.
Gaius’ door was open, and she peeked her head inside to find him frowning (as usual) over some bubbling concoction.
“Morgana, what can I do for you?” he asked as she walked in.
“I need your help,” she said softly.
“Of course, anything,” Gaius reassured her, patting her back and gesturing for her to sit down. “I can give you some herbs to soothe your anxieties, if that would help. Some ginger will settle your stomach over the long ride.”
She hook her head. “That’s not it. The thing is… if I do not conceive a child with Tormod, I will be sent back to Camelot after he dies.” Which hopefully won’t be too long, she thought. “This is my home Gaius, this is where I belong.”
He studied her curiously. “I don’t understand, my dear-.”
“I think you do,” she said firmly, looking him in the eye. “I may be a maiden, but I hear talk, Gaius. I know there are things that ladies use to… to keep themselves from getting with child.”
His jaw tensed as he realized what she was trying to say. “My Lady, to interfere with nature is considered a sin in every kingdom.”
“Please,” she begged him. “You must know something I can use. Won’t you help me?”
Gaius was silent for what seemed like an eternity. “Nothing is fool proof,” he sighed reluctantly. “But I’ll give you a mixture that has a good reputation for its effectiveness.” He shuffled over and opened a cupboard which contained bottles of various shapes and sizes.
After several minutes of tapping and mixing, Gaius handed Morgana a small pouch. “This is a mixture of wild yam and cotton root bark,” he explained. “Take a small pinch under your tongue, just before you… Well, before he…”.
“I understand,” Morgana said, sparing Gaius any further embarrassment and seizing the pouch from him.
“I beg you, be discrete,” he warned. “If anyone were to find this, tell them it is a remedy for headaches. To be caught carrying such a substance would get both of us in great trouble.”
“Thank you, Gaius,” she said, tearing up. The emotions of the past few weeks were weighing her down.
The old man smiled, and kissed her cheek. And she left, he spoke again. “Morgana?”
“Yes?”
“I hope we’ll see you back at Camelot before too long. You will be missed.”
* ~ * ~ *
On the morning of the departure, Arthur awoke unusually early. On any other morning, he would not wake until he heard Merlin trudging in for his duties - that is, on the mornings Merlin was on time. This would be the last morning he could lie here in his bed, knowing that Morgana was just down the hall. They hadn’t spoken since the heated exchange in her chamber.
There was much to be done before their departure. In his head, he ran through the list of things that still needed to be organized for the ride. His father also requested a meeting with him, no doubt to lecture him about proper behavior and safe-keeping of the dowry.
Arthur had packed his own belongings the night before. It would take two days and two nights to arrive in Gleanntan, then he expected to spend a few days there, before returning. Morgana’s actual coronation wasn’t taking place until a week after the wedding. He was glad he didn’t have to stay for that. In his life he had faced countless armed opponents and magical beasts, but nothing would surely kill him as seeing the woman he had always imagined as his queen being crowned to another.
After getting dressed, he silently crept to her room. He had done it so many times, once even sneaking a frog into her bed when they were thirteen. She had flailed and screamed, then that night when he slid into his own bed, his bare feet met with sticky, cold horse manure.
He knocked his signature five raps, and was surprised by how quickly she called for him to come in. Opening the door, he saw her seated at the window, looking out into the courtyard below. No doubt she was witnessing preparations for their journey.
“I suppose you still hate me,” he said softly, walking across the room.
She smiled, a sad smile which did not reach her eyes or light up her face the way it often would. “I never hated you, and I never could.”
“I wanted to say that I’m sorry. For the other day, I…”.
“No,” she interrupted. “Don’t apologize. The fact is that it will probably be a memory I cherish.” She blushed, and it pleased Arthur to see some humility from her. It even turned him on a little, but he reminded himself this was not the place nor time.
“Anyway, I have something for you.” From his pocket he withdrew the ring he had found in the box under his bed. He had taken it to the king’s jeweler, who polished it up. It was silver with a tiny row of diamonds, nothing fancy, but it had a special history.
Morgana stood up, looking at his outstretched palm curiously. “What is it?”
“This was my mother’s wedding ring,” he explained, taking her hand and pressing the ring into it. “I want you to have it. My father gave it to me, told me to keep it until I met my own queen someday.” He touched her face. “And you will forever be my queen, even if only in my heart.”
“Arthur, I… I don’t know what to say. I’m honored.” Her eyes grew misty as she rang her fingertip around the ring. “I know just how I shall wear it,” she said. Unfastening a necklace she was already wearing, she slipped the band onto it. Now, it dangled just over her heart.
“It’s not as fine as the jewels Tormod has given you,” Arthur admitted.
“No. But it means the world to me. I shall wear it always.”
For a moment they just looked at each other, unsure of what to say or how to express their varied feelings. At a loss, Arthur then grabbed her up in his arms, pulling her to him so tightly. “If only we had been born commoners. Then we could do as we please, and no one would tell us who to marry.”
“No, Camelot needs you as its king. Someday this kingdom will be a better place for everyone, no matter their gifts or rank,” she murmured.
That was quite possibly the nicest thing she had ever said to him, and he was too humbled to respond at first. She believed in him, still, just as she always had. So how was he ever going to manage without her? How could he manage to rule a kingdom, or even breathe, without her here?
“Loving you is the most natural thing I have ever done,” he whispered fiercely into her ear. Arthur was simply not the kind of man who expressed his emotions so freely, but he needed to get this off his chest. “It comes to be as easily as breathing. If I stop, I will die.”
“Then don’t stop. Ever. I certainly won’t.” A smile crept across her face as she tried to lighten the mood. “You’re quite the poet, you know. If your knights heard you speaking this way, they’d have a good laugh.”
“Don’t get used to it. I only go spouting off love sonnets once in a lifetime or so.” He sighed, resting his forehead against hers. “I should get going,” he explained. “I’ve got to see that the cart is loaded and meet with father about delivering your dowry.”
She nodded, and he released her reluctantly. “I have a few more things to finish packing, myself.” Her chambers were almost totally empty, missing the colorful tapestries and bouquets of flowers she usually adorned the rooms with.
“What do you suppose they’ll do with this place once I’m gone?” she asked, as though she could read Arthur’s thoughts.
“I don’t know. Save it for when you visit, perhaps?” he suggested hopefully, walking to the door. He glanced at her once more, realizing that this was probably their last private moment together. “Well. I’ll see you downstairs.”
She merely nodded, but then spoke as he was almost out of earshot. “Arthur?”
He peeked back in to see her fingering the ring beneath the fabric of her dress. “Thank you.”
* ~ * ~ *
This is really happening, Morgana thought to herself as she watched the last of her belongings being strapped to a horse-drawn cart. Poor Merlin was going to be stuck driving the thing, and the stubborn pony who was pulling it would no doubt give him trouble. Faithful little Delia was securely tied in the cart, her favorite blanket beneath her. The rest of them would be riding on horseback - herself, Gwen, Arthur, and two of Camelot’s knights, Sir Renfrew and Sir Bedwyr. Morgana knew them about as well as she did any other knight - they exchanged formal greetings at functions. Not that it made any difference in her fate, but it still felt comforting to have all of them with her for the journey and arrival in her new home. Her new residence, she reminded herself. Gleanntan would never be home.
Gwen and Merlin were milling about with last minute preparations, and Arthur was going over a map with Renfrew and Bedwyr. Attached to Arthur’s pack was the heavy bag of gold coins - her dowry. It made her shudder to see herself equated to goods, as if the old king was doing Uther a favor and buying her off. The bag bulged with the weight of its contents, and Morgana wondered if she had fetched a good price, as far as dowries go. Furthermore, they would be bringing an extra horse along as another part of her dowry - a silver palfrey sired by one of Camelot’s best stallions.
Feeling suddenly faint - she had not been able to eat any breakfast - she wobbled and grasped the cart to steady herself. This was all too real, too fast.
Merlin appeared and touched her elbow gently. “Are you all right, my Lady?”
“I feel as though I am going to my death,” she gasped.
He smiled understandingly. “Don’t worry. We won’t let that happen.”
“I sometimes think I would welcome that, over where I am going.” She allowed him to guide her over to a nearby barrel, where she sat uneasily. It was still early, and she hadn’t slept well last night.
“Don’t say that. Wait here, I’ll get you some water.”
Merlin returned with a flask of water, and she took small sips. Even at that, her stomach turned.
Gwen came over and kneeled beside her. “Can I get you anything before we go?”
Morgana squeezed her hand. “Just stay here with me for a moment.”
Crowds of people had begun to gather, to see off the king’s ward, the woman who many of them had expected would be their queen someday. Uther entered the courtyard. He spoke to Arthur for a moment, then made his way over to her, smiling.
“Time to put on a show,” she murmured under her breath.
Uther took her hands in his. “I never thought this day would come so fast,” he said, speaking loudly enough for the bystanders to hear. “It seems like just yesterday I remember your father telling me you had been born, and how proud he was of you. Today, I know he would be proud of the woman you have become.”
God, she was confused and overwhelmed by emotions right now. She was so angry at him, yet the sight of what was possibly a tear in his eye made her heart quiver. How did he manage to be so cruel one moment, and loving the next?
“I hope so, my Lord,” she said, her voice raspy, and Uther pulled her into a gentle hug.
She found it difficult to return his affection. “Goodbye, Uther,” was all she could manage.
“Be civil to him,” he said as he embraced her. “Remember that you are representing Camelot.” His tone was light but the message was not. It reminded her of her duty.
As she walked to her horse, she nodded and waved to several courtiers, people she had known for years but only considered acquaintances. Still, she would miss seeing their faces.
Gaius was the last in line, and he kissed her cheek. “I wish you a safe travel and that you find happiness.”
He had been in her life for so long, treating her for everything from skinned knees to insomnia. A lump formed in her throat. “Gaius. How I’ll miss you. Do you suppose we’ll ever meet again?”
Gaius smiled. “I hope so, my Lady. I hope you will return to Camelot.”
Morgana did not - could not - look at Arthur as he helped her onto her horse. Everyone else was mounted and ready, and Merlin sat on the wagon seat with the reins in his hands. Arthur mounted his own horse, then called her Sir Renfrew to lead the way. The caravan began to move.
Morgana glanced at the courtyard one last time, where she saw Uther nod and smile. She gave a light wave to everyone, then stared straight ahead, not daring to look back as they began to move toward the valley.
When she finally gathered the courage to look back, the turrets of Camelot had already disappeared into the early morning mist.
--
Chapters 7 & 8 here: http://a-boleyn1230.livejournal.com/138702.html