(no subject)
Title: A Very Good Feeling
Author: Rachel Marie
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Gwen, Morgana, Arthur/Gwen
Word Count: 1295
Disclaimer: Don’t own it! Would break it.
Summary: Some things are beyond prediction.
A/N: Installment one of a nine-part story. This first chapter is pretty gen, but there’ll be Arthur/Gwen throughout.
This is the tale of Gwen’s journey through unknown territory: pregnancy.
I hope you all enjoy. <3
It had taken Gwen a long time to get used to the notion of leisure.
The day she was crowned Queen of Camelot, she made a promise to herself that she would not allow the discipline and work ethic her parents so proudly bestowed upon her to fall by the wayside, victim to her new privilege.
Her stately parlor went woefully underused those first months. She and Arthur married in May, and she spent nearly the entire summer touring the village around the castle, talking with the people, who regarded her with a level of warmth Guinevere would never forget. They regarded her as one of theirs - and she was proud of that as they were proud of her. Though Arthur fixed her with an affectionate, if not imploring smile, she devoted herself to her people’s daily needs in those weeks … manual labor and the like. And because she was there, Morgana was at her side, helping as Gwen helped. And with Gwen and Morgana came a few others from the castle, and Gwen was pleased to see them devote their efforts as she did.
During their betrothal, Gwen had come to stay in the castle - in her own quarters’, not with Arthur. While she had servants at her disposal, Gwen had hardly forgotten herself … it was too odd to ask things of her former coworkers. So she tended to her own laundry, cleaned up after herself, and on at least a few occasions got away with getting her own breakfasts (until somebody put a stop to it, as she increasingly took her meals with the king instead). Though aware that this behavior would not suit a queen, when she could, Gwen made no mention of small tasks and took care of them herself.
When her mother died, her father had been lost. And though Gwen had been very young, she did exactly what she expected Eleanor would have wanted from her. She did the cooking and the cleaning and ran the household until her father was restored.
And when Tom passed away and Gwen was alone in the world, she carried on as well. She had no time to be idle, and so she did not languish and wish for it.
So Gwen did her best to suppress the small tickle of shame at the back of her mind for her current state.
It was hard to resist enjoying a day as beautiful as this one the way she was now.
She reclined into the soft cranberry cushions of her chaise lounge, knees propped up and bare feet crossed at the ankle, toes curled in the breeze that blew in through the open window nearby. She leaned to one side, chin resting delicately on her arm as she warmed her face in the sunlight, winter cold finally giving way to a bit of spring.
Gwen sighed and smiled, her hand drifting absently over the soft lavender fabric of her gown. She was glad not to be entertaining … or working, collecting supplies, mending, cleaning or enduring the drone of court. No, today, she could simply be, and she was happy for that.
It was an odd kind of happiness, one that she couldn’t pinpoint, and she absently wondered if it was just a dream pressing at her thoughts, willing her to give in and drift out and sleep … Gwen yawned.
“Tired?” came Morgana’s voice from across the room.
Gwen jumped a little, then grinned sheepishly. ”No,” she replied, a little petulantly, then laughed outright. She’d been drifting enough to forget she wasn’t entirely alone. “Maybe a little …”
She could hardly misread the teasing smile playing on her sister-in-law’s face, even from so far away. Morgana was seated clear on the other side of the room, in a rather high-backed - but comfortable, Gwen knew - chair, embroidering. She shifted a bit in her seat, pulling the shawl thrown over her shoulders a little tighter.
And then, for the first time, Gwen noticed the other girls in the room with them were wearing shawls as well, and were sitting conspicuously far away as well. Rosaline, Gwen’s handmaiden, rested upon a stool at Morgana’s side … and Hannah, another trusted servant - and friend - of Gwen’s stood behind them, still in a winter’s drape.
Gwen stretched a little, then pushed herself more upright, patting the space beside her. “Don’t you want to have a seat, Hannah?”
“No, my lady, I’m fine …”
But Gwen made a small noise in her throat and shook her head. “You’ve got nothing to tend to right now, come sit with me.”
With a small sigh, Hannah slowly made her way over, and as she walked, Gwen felt a wave of concern was over her. “Are you all right?” she asked softly when Hannah lowered herself into the place next to her.
“No, m’lady.” Hannah gave her a forced smile, and Gwen wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be offended at her friend’s complete lack of desire for her company. She and Hannah had worked together for years - and they’d never quarreled, never even raised their voices at each other. Perhaps Gwen had done something to offend her that she was unaware of? It was complicated, negotiating this new relationship with old friends …
So Gwen reached out for Hannah’s hand, and squeezed the cold palm. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter,” supplied Morgana, her voice laced with laughter. “It’s just freezing in here!”
Rosaline suppressed a giggle, and Hannah’s eyebrows turned up in silent apology. Morgana just laughed.
Gwen was shocked. “Why didn’t anyone just say something?”
“It’s March. What’s there to say?”
But Gwen just smiled and moved - rather slowly - to stand. Truth was, she was surprised that anybody could be cold in this weather. Gwen - or at least the her top half - was a little hot … Perhaps she was catching something.
She put on a steady smile. “Well, let’s just close the window then-”
Hannah jumped up before her, as did Rosaline. “No, your majesty-”
“I’ve got it-”
“You all are ridiculous.” Gwen took a lurching step forward before she paused and caught herself.
A wave of something - like standing up too fast or nearly tripping down the stairs - rushed through her, from her toes up to her head, making the periphery of her vision flood with light. Betraying nothing, she reached out and grasped the back of the chaise, curling her fingers into the frame and closing her eyes. She felt Hannah brush by her, and heard the sound of the window snapping closed dimly. Even in blackness, the colors behind her lids were swirling, and Gwen merely stood still until the feeling ebbed.
When she opened her eyes again finally, her ladies in waiting were busy starting a fire, and Gwen was silently thankful that she’d managed not to call attention to herself.
Or not. Morgana, embroidery cast aside, had risen slightly out of her chair, her hands on either arm. With a small shake of her head, 'No,' she carefully stepped round to her seat again, to wait out this odd imbalance. Catching Morgana's clear gaze as she did so, she lowered herself down again, until she was tucked into the soft cushion with an arm draped over her head.
Perhaps she really did need that rest. Content to let the sounds of Hannah schooling her younger counterpart on the proper way to start a fire lull her into sleep, Gwen closed her eyes. Her previous comfort, like a warmth, settled over her again, and as she dozed off the incident was long forgotten.
Author: Rachel Marie
Rating: G
Characters/Pairings: Gwen, Morgana, Arthur/Gwen
Word Count: 1295
Disclaimer: Don’t own it! Would break it.
Summary: Some things are beyond prediction.
A/N: Installment one of a nine-part story. This first chapter is pretty gen, but there’ll be Arthur/Gwen throughout.
This is the tale of Gwen’s journey through unknown territory: pregnancy.
I hope you all enjoy. <3
It had taken Gwen a long time to get used to the notion of leisure.
The day she was crowned Queen of Camelot, she made a promise to herself that she would not allow the discipline and work ethic her parents so proudly bestowed upon her to fall by the wayside, victim to her new privilege.
Her stately parlor went woefully underused those first months. She and Arthur married in May, and she spent nearly the entire summer touring the village around the castle, talking with the people, who regarded her with a level of warmth Guinevere would never forget. They regarded her as one of theirs - and she was proud of that as they were proud of her. Though Arthur fixed her with an affectionate, if not imploring smile, she devoted herself to her people’s daily needs in those weeks … manual labor and the like. And because she was there, Morgana was at her side, helping as Gwen helped. And with Gwen and Morgana came a few others from the castle, and Gwen was pleased to see them devote their efforts as she did.
During their betrothal, Gwen had come to stay in the castle - in her own quarters’, not with Arthur. While she had servants at her disposal, Gwen had hardly forgotten herself … it was too odd to ask things of her former coworkers. So she tended to her own laundry, cleaned up after herself, and on at least a few occasions got away with getting her own breakfasts (until somebody put a stop to it, as she increasingly took her meals with the king instead). Though aware that this behavior would not suit a queen, when she could, Gwen made no mention of small tasks and took care of them herself.
When her mother died, her father had been lost. And though Gwen had been very young, she did exactly what she expected Eleanor would have wanted from her. She did the cooking and the cleaning and ran the household until her father was restored.
And when Tom passed away and Gwen was alone in the world, she carried on as well. She had no time to be idle, and so she did not languish and wish for it.
So Gwen did her best to suppress the small tickle of shame at the back of her mind for her current state.
It was hard to resist enjoying a day as beautiful as this one the way she was now.
She reclined into the soft cranberry cushions of her chaise lounge, knees propped up and bare feet crossed at the ankle, toes curled in the breeze that blew in through the open window nearby. She leaned to one side, chin resting delicately on her arm as she warmed her face in the sunlight, winter cold finally giving way to a bit of spring.
Gwen sighed and smiled, her hand drifting absently over the soft lavender fabric of her gown. She was glad not to be entertaining … or working, collecting supplies, mending, cleaning or enduring the drone of court. No, today, she could simply be, and she was happy for that.
It was an odd kind of happiness, one that she couldn’t pinpoint, and she absently wondered if it was just a dream pressing at her thoughts, willing her to give in and drift out and sleep … Gwen yawned.
“Tired?” came Morgana’s voice from across the room.
Gwen jumped a little, then grinned sheepishly. ”No,” she replied, a little petulantly, then laughed outright. She’d been drifting enough to forget she wasn’t entirely alone. “Maybe a little …”
She could hardly misread the teasing smile playing on her sister-in-law’s face, even from so far away. Morgana was seated clear on the other side of the room, in a rather high-backed - but comfortable, Gwen knew - chair, embroidering. She shifted a bit in her seat, pulling the shawl thrown over her shoulders a little tighter.
And then, for the first time, Gwen noticed the other girls in the room with them were wearing shawls as well, and were sitting conspicuously far away as well. Rosaline, Gwen’s handmaiden, rested upon a stool at Morgana’s side … and Hannah, another trusted servant - and friend - of Gwen’s stood behind them, still in a winter’s drape.
Gwen stretched a little, then pushed herself more upright, patting the space beside her. “Don’t you want to have a seat, Hannah?”
“No, my lady, I’m fine …”
But Gwen made a small noise in her throat and shook her head. “You’ve got nothing to tend to right now, come sit with me.”
With a small sigh, Hannah slowly made her way over, and as she walked, Gwen felt a wave of concern was over her. “Are you all right?” she asked softly when Hannah lowered herself into the place next to her.
“No, m’lady.” Hannah gave her a forced smile, and Gwen wasn’t sure whether to laugh or be offended at her friend’s complete lack of desire for her company. She and Hannah had worked together for years - and they’d never quarreled, never even raised their voices at each other. Perhaps Gwen had done something to offend her that she was unaware of? It was complicated, negotiating this new relationship with old friends …
So Gwen reached out for Hannah’s hand, and squeezed the cold palm. “What’s the matter?”
“Nothing’s the matter,” supplied Morgana, her voice laced with laughter. “It’s just freezing in here!”
Rosaline suppressed a giggle, and Hannah’s eyebrows turned up in silent apology. Morgana just laughed.
Gwen was shocked. “Why didn’t anyone just say something?”
“It’s March. What’s there to say?”
But Gwen just smiled and moved - rather slowly - to stand. Truth was, she was surprised that anybody could be cold in this weather. Gwen - or at least the her top half - was a little hot … Perhaps she was catching something.
She put on a steady smile. “Well, let’s just close the window then-”
Hannah jumped up before her, as did Rosaline. “No, your majesty-”
“I’ve got it-”
“You all are ridiculous.” Gwen took a lurching step forward before she paused and caught herself.
A wave of something - like standing up too fast or nearly tripping down the stairs - rushed through her, from her toes up to her head, making the periphery of her vision flood with light. Betraying nothing, she reached out and grasped the back of the chaise, curling her fingers into the frame and closing her eyes. She felt Hannah brush by her, and heard the sound of the window snapping closed dimly. Even in blackness, the colors behind her lids were swirling, and Gwen merely stood still until the feeling ebbed.
When she opened her eyes again finally, her ladies in waiting were busy starting a fire, and Gwen was silently thankful that she’d managed not to call attention to herself.
Or not. Morgana, embroidery cast aside, had risen slightly out of her chair, her hands on either arm. With a small shake of her head, 'No,' she carefully stepped round to her seat again, to wait out this odd imbalance. Catching Morgana's clear gaze as she did so, she lowered herself down again, until she was tucked into the soft cushion with an arm draped over her head.
Perhaps she really did need that rest. Content to let the sounds of Hannah schooling her younger counterpart on the proper way to start a fire lull her into sleep, Gwen closed her eyes. Her previous comfort, like a warmth, settled over her again, and as she dozed off the incident was long forgotten.