Fic: Glow
Title: Glow
Author: Rachel Marie
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen, Merlin, Morgana, OCs
Word Count: 3609
Spoilers: None. Future!fic.
Disclaimer: On my wishlist, but sadly, not mine.
Summary: Gwen is glowing, and everyone notices.
A/N: Part six in the tale of Gwen’s pregnancy.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
My little holiday gift to you. I have to say, I really enjoyed writing this installment, so I hope you enjoy it too. Happy Thanksgiving to those of you who are stateside, and happy Thursday to everybody who is not!
Fluff. I'm not ashamed.
Morgana inhaled sharply. “My goodness, Gwen,” she exclaimed, and Guinevere couldn’t help the burst laughter that escaped her at her friend’s shock. “How do you live like this?”
She playfully hushed Morgana as she bit down on her lip and tried to focus on the little movements coming from deep inside her. She guided the pale hand to the spot just above her navel, and the baby rewarded Gwen’s intuition with a little kick.
The pair exchanged a grin. “She’s a little warrior,” murmured Morgana, withdrawing her hand.
Gwen gave her a look but couldn’t control the smile that had blossomed on her face. “You don’t know it’s a girl.”
“Oh don’t I?” Morgana rolled her eyes. She gave a little nod toward Gwen’s belly. “You ought to prepare him.”
Guinevere smoothed the silken fabric of her dress over her stomach, turning her back to her companion to hide her suddenly flushed face. Not that it mattered. She never could hide her feelings from Morgana, which was fine since Gwen had yet to find cause to do so.
Playful ruminations on the sex of her baby aside, Gwen wondered where Camelot’s young king was. Outside the thin crepe walls of the tent she and Morgana waited in, she could hear a crowd at full force in the adjacent stadium. There was a stool for her to sit on, but her nerves had her near pacing. She was certain to feel much better about the whole event once her husband arrived and she could focus on his frustrations rather than her own anxiety.
She knew Arthur too well. In the entire week leading up to the start of this jousting tournament, he’d been threatening to forgo presiding over it all in favor of participating. Gwen had teasingly suggested they see if Sir William was still amenable to the bait-and-switch.
On cue, Arthur appeared in the entrance of the tent, flanked by two guards. Gwen pressed her lips in a firm line, determined not to laugh at how obviously put out he was … but his current pout harkened back to the attitude of a spoiled prince being denied some fleeting treasure.
“Sire,” she greeted him, relieved.
He made no attempt to mitigate his sour look. “Guinevere, how far do you think Deira is from here?” He reached up to fiddle with his crown.
She kissed his cheek lightly before reaching up to help him. “Very far, my lord. So I think you’ll have to let this one pass.
Morgana rolled her eyes as she brushed by the pair of them. “Honestly.”
Arthur scowled at her. “What’s it to you?”
“You’d prefer to needlessly risk your life, for sport?” She paused at the tent threshold and scoffed. “I don’t think she’ll appreciate that.”
“Guinevere doesn’t-”
“Not Gwen,” Morgana interrupted pointedly, and then - with a chuckle and slight shake of her head, disappeared into the blistering sunlight to take her place in the stands.
Arthur stared after her for a moment before turning his attention back to Gwen, who moved her hand to cup his cheek. He seemed to relax a little under her touch, some of his previous edge gone. “’She’?” he repeated. His eyes fell to the belly pushing out the sky blue fabric of Gwen’s gown.
Gwen just shrugged noncommittally and hid a small smile. She’d let Morgana have her fun with Arthur - but she’d made her sister-in-law promise weeks ago not to tell either of the expectant parents if the baby would be a boy or girl, if she knew.
Arthur just cleared his throat. “Was … she moving around?”
“A few minutes ago, yes.”
“Can I … ?”
Taking his hand in hers, she placed his palm against her and concentrated, waiting for some hint of movement.
Nothing. Gwen watched Arthur try to hide his disappointment. She wasn’t sure what it was about his luck; since that first fateful try in the nursery, he hadn’t been able to catch Gwen when the baby kicked. Some of that blame was hers, Gwen thought. She’d gotten his hopes up before anyone touching her stomach would’ve been able to feel what she felt going on inside. And then, when the first real kicking began - the kind she could share with others - he was never around. But Merlin had felt it, and now Morgana, and the physician … Rosaline and Hannah … even Cookie the cook …
He looked up at her and forced a smile. “Maybe hundreth time’s a charm?”
She pressed her hand to his cheek again. “You just set my heart racing,” Gwen replied, leaning in to offer an apologetic kiss. “It’s a little hard for him to compete.”
Arthur grinned and Gwen felt satisfied. Lucky number one hundred it would be.
They turned, shoulder to shoulder, to face the blinding light outside the tent. Gwen wouldn’t be made a liar; she took a deep breath to still her racing heart, though it did little good. She wondered if she’d ever get over this … the shock of greeting the masses … what she meant to them, and what they meant to her.
Arthur’s hand found hers. “Don’t be nervous,” he whispered into her ear. “You look the part.”
She grinned and looked up at him, the weight of her crown bearing down slightly on her head. “I know. So do you.”
***
Gwen’s eyes drifted shut, and she tipped her face toward the sun, letting out a contented sigh as the trio wandered aimlessly through the wheat field. She felt impossibly content in this peaceful place, just outside the lower town.
Only one thing could improve this bliss. She wished Arthur could enjoy this brief reprieve from duty, but he was held up in a brief meeting before they were due to dine with their guests and the knights. How Merlin managed to get out of attendance - anything Arthur had to suffer through, he insisted his friend-advisor did the same - Guinevere wasn’t entirely sure.
The joust that morning had been exhilarating, but exhausting. Deep down, she knew she’d never be able to repay the people of Camelot for their kindness to her. When crowned queen, more than a few members of the nobility looked down their noses at her, shocked by Arthur’s impudence and Gwen’s sheer gall, and a few openly scorned this affront to the court of Camelot. But the townspeople lifted Gwen up. Men and women, her friends and her fellows, elders who’d helped to raise her after her mother’s death, and children whom Gwen enabled and endured, they stood behind her with unwavering faith and admiration.
Today, in the face of her nerves at appearing in front of such a large crowd in this changed state, they cheered her as always. She’d spend her life showing them gratitude for their faith. And she’d remember to teach her child to honor them as they would inevitable honor him.
Or her.
She smiled and brought her hands to her belly once more. And when she opened her eyes to seek out her friends and remark on the day’s beauty, she found herself staring squarely at Morgana and Merlin, side-by-side, grinning at her.
Gwen’s face went hot under their scrutiny. “What?”
Merlin shrugged, pulling buds of grain from the stalk in his hands. “Nothing. You just look … different,” his non-committed only answer.
“Well,” she laughed, raising an eyebrow, “If that’s all-”
“I think it’s …” he gestured vaguely to his own stomach - and Gwen noted for the first time, upon glancing down at her protruding middle, that she was significantly larger than him there. “You’re … growing.”
She tried not to sound too indignant. “I am pregnant, you know,” and with that, Gwen turned and moved off a little, catching the tops of the wheat stalks between her fingertips.
Merlin could clearly feel the moment turning, and Gwen heard him take a few hasty steps after her. She turned to tell him that it was all right, that she didn’t mind - because she truly didn’t mind the belly so long as she didn’t do to much expanding anywhere else - only to find Morgana doing her work for her.
“Honestly, Merlin,” she sighed, rolling her eyes and taking a few light steps in front of him. He shrank a little under what had to have been a hard stare, and again Gwen was prepared to interrupt, but the look on her sister-in-law’s face stopped her. Morgana turned back to face Gwen, fair and beautiful, with a small smile and impossibly distant look in her eyes. She weaved through the waist high grass with ease, coming to stop just in front of Gwen.
Guinevere held her silent gaze, as she always did when Morgana seemed to be in a far away place … seeing things the young queen couldn’t even begin to imagine. They stood like that for a long while, until Gwen opened her mouth, ready to bring Morgana back to the present. But a sudden gust of wind made Gwen’s hair drift into her face and catch in the corner of her mouth. And by the time she righted herself, Morgana’s stare was decidedly less intense and even more tender, if possible.
She reached out and caught Gwen’s hand. “You look beautiful,” she murmured. “More every day.”
“That’s what I meant!” blurted Merlin from a few feet off.
Morgana rolled her eyes, but Gwen couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re both too good to me,” she replied loud enough for Merlin to hear as he approached. She squeezed Morgana’s hand and gave a slight nod toward the castle. “We’d better be getting back, Arthur will be looking for us.”
She turned to begin walking, but Merlin caught her arm. “What-?”
Just eye level, Merlin held up a small, intricately woven pony, fashioned entirely out of wheat stalk. Gwen gasped a little, eyes flicking between Merlin’s pleased smile and the tiny treasure he held out to her. “How’d you do this so quickly?” she breathed, then giggled. “Of course.”
“Magic, remember?” He blushed and nodded toward Gwen’s belly. “For him.”
“Her,” corrected Morgana.
“It’s perfect.” She turned the miniature figure over in her hands. “Thank you, Merlin.”
Gwen reached out and drew Merlin into a brief embrace, careful not to bend the wheat pony. And she tamped down the sudden tightness in her throat when she heard him whisper awkwardly, and sincerely, into her hair that he agreed with Morgana.
***
On the walk back to the castle, Gwen was content to let Merlin and Morgana chat on about whatever magical trick they were discussing. As best she could tell, it was a continuation of some previous conversation - some bit of knowledge Morgana had surprised Merlin with her knowledge of, and Gwen didn’t doubt that it would take a good deal of effort to include her in it anyway.
Her thoughts were redirected to the little dance that seemed to be going on deep in her belly. For certain, the baby had been active about three weeks or so now. But early on and for long now, its movements felt more like an actual case of butterflies, or acorns bouncing around in her stomach. And more often than not, it seemed only to happen when she was lying flat, just before bed or early in the morning. But in recent days, it started to feel like the little thing was trying to stretch out, find a comfortable position. And though the little reminder that whoever was in there was alive and well, it still took a little getting used to.
“The queen!”
A little voice drew her out of her reverie.
They were halfway back to the castle entrance, just outside the apothecary and, Gwen knew, an inn on the other side of the road. The town was busy for the middle of the afternoon, likely the result of so many people putting off their duties for the day in honor of the tournament that morning. A few people looked out their windows and doors, and those who’d been milling about on the street had apparently stopped at the sight of Gwen, Merlin and Morgana walking, unattended by guards or fanfare.
A young boy, who probably didn’t remember Guinevere at all though she’d visited his mother in the days after his birth five years ago to bring her fresh bread, was in the middle of the road blocking their way.
She smiled, “Hello Benjamin.”
The wide-eyed - and slightly awestruck - boy stared up at the three of them, opened-mouthed.
Merlin’s voice was suddenly very close. “Looks like a fish,” he muttered.
Before Gwen could hush her friend, a much older woman joined the little boy. “Benjamin!” she scolded, before looking up at Guinevere apologetically. “Your highness, my lord Merlin-” Gwen distinctly saw Merlin’s chest puff out a little, “Lady Morgana. I am so sorry-”
“Louise, you have nothing to be sorry for!” Guinevere smiled brightly, “I barely recognized Benjamin, he’s so grown up!”
Louise blushed deeply, but could not hide her smile. “Clearly lacking in manners.”
“Oh, he hardly said two words-”
“He only said two words,” supplied Merlin.
Gwen shot him a quick look, to which Merlin just grinned. “He’s adorable.”
Another woman, much older than Gwen, spoke up from her doorway. “You’re looking well, my lady!” she interrupted, then - as an afterthought - gave a hasty curtsey to accompany the kind look on her face.
Gwen blushed. “Thank you.”
“What brings you out of the castle, my lady?”
Her gaze was drawn to her left, and Gwen noticed that the small crowd had grown by a few. She wasn’t quite sure who had asked the question, so Gwen let her eyes roam about the cluster of faces, curious, pleased, tan doubtless from hours spent in the summer sun. “There’s no better way to enjoy Camelot than to be out in such beautiful weather,” she offered, raising an eyebrow, then smiled, “I would not have the opportunity to greet you all otherwise.”
Many nodded in agreement, and Gwen looked back at her friends. “We should be on our way, I think?” Morgana gave Gwen an indecipherable smile.
There was a quiet, but meaningful chorus of, 'My lady's as the people parted for Gwen, Merlin and Morgana to pass. But Gwen hardly made it two steps before another young girl - a little older than Benjamin … perhaps close to the age Gwen had been at her mother’s passing - stepped in her path again, and held out a tiny spray of wildflowers, a little bent at the end, as though she’d been holding them for a while.
Guinevere’s heart swelled a little at the small gesture, and the queen dipped her head as she took them. “Thank you,” she murmured. The child smiled, and Gwen noticed two missing front teeth.
She was pleased, and her voice did not shrink … even in the presence of the king’s most cherished loved-ones. “You’re welcome, my lady.”
The baby fluttered again.
***
The great hall was filled with life in a way that Gwen had not seen before.
It gave her no end of happiness to think that it was Arthur’s reign that lifted the dark cloud that had long dampened the people of Camelot’s joy. Certainly there had been happy moments under Uther’s watch - in the castle walls and out - but around each corner there had been darkness, feeing on secrets and fear. In this hall, at this moment, the people before Gwen seemed truly happy. And it was to her husband’s credit.
Golden light filled the room. The meal was long finished, but minstrels played on exuberantly. In the center of the hall, more than a few people were dancing, Morgana included. Gwen’s sister-in-law was beautiful as ever as she took a turn with Sir Leon, while many men looked on, waiting their chance with her. Merlin, of course, was tucking in to what had to be his fourth.
Gwen remained alone at her seat up on the dais. She’d lost Arthur in the crowd; he was doubtless playing the gracious host, perhaps regaling the knights with an exaggerated telling of some adventure, or sharing a drink with one of the visiting kings. Whatever the case, Gwen thought with a smile, he would be fulfilling his duty admirably, and hopefully enjoying himself.
Her part was done. For a while, she moved about, entertaining polite conversation with visiting ladies with Morgana at her side. But as soon as her friend moved off to enjoy the attention of dashing and unmarried men, Guinevere took her leave. It was a blessed and unexpected consequence of pregnancy … carte-blanche to seek personal peace away whenever she wanted a moment.
Rosaline approached, holding a gold pitcher close to her chest. “More to drink, my lady?”
“No, thank you,” Gwen replied, pushing her goblet away a little. “I’m too full as it is.”
Her handmaiden turned and surveyed the hall in front of Gwen before giving a decisive nod of approval. “It’s a lovely occasion. Everybody seems in high spirits.”
“They do.” Gwen reached out and took her hand, squeezing it briefly. “Except you! Go, dance.”
Rosaline blushed straight away. “I couldn’t.”
But Gwen smiled up at her, rising to stand as well. “Of course. Weren’t you just telling me about a young man the other day-”
“Sir Raphael?” blurted Rosaline.
The look in her eye was familiar, Gwen mused. “That’s the one. Won’t you dance with him?”
“Oh no, no, no, my lady. I couldn’t.”
“Of course you can.” She slipped her arm through Rosaline’s and together, they walked in step together, down the first step, then the second, down to the floor. “You look lovely,” she paused, then added with a wink, “And I saw him looking your way earlier.”
Rosaline gasped, but one look at her mistress set her grinning. “Perhaps I could say ‘hi.’”
Gwen released her arm and nodded. “Whatever you do, promise me you’ll enjoy yourself. This is for everyone.”
She released Rosaline’s arm and turned to retake her seat. After a few steps in Sir Raphael’s direction, however, Rosaline turned back to face Gwen. “My lady?” She curtseyed deeply.
Guinevere smiled and waved her hand, shooing her away. “Rosie-”
“You look beautiful tonight,” Rosaline interrupted in typical rushed fashion, a look of appreciation on her face. “More than ever before.”
It was Gwen’s turn to blush. Before she could reply, Rosaline whirled around and rushed off, caught in the throes of affection.
She was surprised to see Arthur hovering just above her, resting a casual arm on the head of her throne. Making no attempt to hide her smile, she wordlessly made her way to him, holding up the hem of her dress. He waited, gazing upon her warmly, and when she was close he held out his hand to her.
“You appeared out of no where,” Guinevere murmured, unexpectedly breathless.
Arthur shrugged a little, eyes flicking to the crowd. “Business. You were sitting for a while.” He paused. “How are you doing?”
She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand reassuringly. “Mother and child are well.”
Relief washed over his face, and he drew closer, leaving little space between them. Under other circumstances, Gwen might’ve teasingly backed away in favor of decorum. Now, she found she just didn’t care. Perhaps it was the weather or the music on the two sips of wine she’d allowed herself, but the way his head was bowed as he took in the sight of her, and the sparkle in his eye, she felt a little warm. Voices and laugher in the hall faded into an indecipherable buzz.
Arthur cleared his throat, looking up at her once more. “I heard you caused a small commotion in the town today.”
“False,” Gwen replied, playfully defiant.
“Really?” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Merlin says you had the people rendered speechless-”
She laughed outright. “A little boy-”
“And tonight,” interrupted Arthur. His hand found her tummy, and Gwen sidestepped so that no one behind her could see it resting there. He leaned a little closer. “King Olaf himself remarked on how radiant you look.” He hesitated, then pressed on with a cheeky grin. “I nearly challenged him to a duel.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “Arthur-”
“I didn’t, and that’s saying something.”
“Is it? And what’s that?”
He rubbed the curve of her stomach and looked away, self-effacing smile on his lips. “You do look beautiful. Like this.”
She was overcome by a strong desire to kiss him then, and Gwen forced herself to look at the corner of the room just above his right shoulder until she got a grip on the charge of desire that coursed through her. Just as she felt okay again, not like she was going to perform some objectionable act with the king in public, she gasped and gave a little start.
Guinevere almost laughed at Arthur’s wide-eyed shock, and she couldn’t help but giggle at the grin that followed. Or at the thought of warrior Arthur jumping a little as both his hands settled on the center of her belly. “Was that it?” he demanded loudly.
Gwen giggled, too pleased to shush him. He laughed brightly. “Do it again!”
“You know very well that I can’t-”
The baby kicked once more, to Arthur’s pleasure and Gwen’s amusement. She was certain they were calling attention to themselves; she felt more than a few pairs of eyes on her back. But Guinevere very quickly realized that for this special moment, she didn’t really care.
Author: Rachel Marie
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen, Merlin, Morgana, OCs
Word Count: 3609
Spoilers: None. Future!fic.
Disclaimer: On my wishlist, but sadly, not mine.
Summary: Gwen is glowing, and everyone notices.
A/N: Part six in the tale of Gwen’s pregnancy.
Part One
Part Two
Part Three
Part Four
Part Five
My little holiday gift to you. I have to say, I really enjoyed writing this installment, so I hope you enjoy it too. Happy Thanksgiving to those of you who are stateside, and happy Thursday to everybody who is not!
Fluff. I'm not ashamed.
Morgana inhaled sharply. “My goodness, Gwen,” she exclaimed, and Guinevere couldn’t help the burst laughter that escaped her at her friend’s shock. “How do you live like this?”
She playfully hushed Morgana as she bit down on her lip and tried to focus on the little movements coming from deep inside her. She guided the pale hand to the spot just above her navel, and the baby rewarded Gwen’s intuition with a little kick.
The pair exchanged a grin. “She’s a little warrior,” murmured Morgana, withdrawing her hand.
Gwen gave her a look but couldn’t control the smile that had blossomed on her face. “You don’t know it’s a girl.”
“Oh don’t I?” Morgana rolled her eyes. She gave a little nod toward Gwen’s belly. “You ought to prepare him.”
Guinevere smoothed the silken fabric of her dress over her stomach, turning her back to her companion to hide her suddenly flushed face. Not that it mattered. She never could hide her feelings from Morgana, which was fine since Gwen had yet to find cause to do so.
Playful ruminations on the sex of her baby aside, Gwen wondered where Camelot’s young king was. Outside the thin crepe walls of the tent she and Morgana waited in, she could hear a crowd at full force in the adjacent stadium. There was a stool for her to sit on, but her nerves had her near pacing. She was certain to feel much better about the whole event once her husband arrived and she could focus on his frustrations rather than her own anxiety.
She knew Arthur too well. In the entire week leading up to the start of this jousting tournament, he’d been threatening to forgo presiding over it all in favor of participating. Gwen had teasingly suggested they see if Sir William was still amenable to the bait-and-switch.
On cue, Arthur appeared in the entrance of the tent, flanked by two guards. Gwen pressed her lips in a firm line, determined not to laugh at how obviously put out he was … but his current pout harkened back to the attitude of a spoiled prince being denied some fleeting treasure.
“Sire,” she greeted him, relieved.
He made no attempt to mitigate his sour look. “Guinevere, how far do you think Deira is from here?” He reached up to fiddle with his crown.
She kissed his cheek lightly before reaching up to help him. “Very far, my lord. So I think you’ll have to let this one pass.
Morgana rolled her eyes as she brushed by the pair of them. “Honestly.”
Arthur scowled at her. “What’s it to you?”
“You’d prefer to needlessly risk your life, for sport?” She paused at the tent threshold and scoffed. “I don’t think she’ll appreciate that.”
“Guinevere doesn’t-”
“Not Gwen,” Morgana interrupted pointedly, and then - with a chuckle and slight shake of her head, disappeared into the blistering sunlight to take her place in the stands.
Arthur stared after her for a moment before turning his attention back to Gwen, who moved her hand to cup his cheek. He seemed to relax a little under her touch, some of his previous edge gone. “’She’?” he repeated. His eyes fell to the belly pushing out the sky blue fabric of Gwen’s gown.
Gwen just shrugged noncommittally and hid a small smile. She’d let Morgana have her fun with Arthur - but she’d made her sister-in-law promise weeks ago not to tell either of the expectant parents if the baby would be a boy or girl, if she knew.
Arthur just cleared his throat. “Was … she moving around?”
“A few minutes ago, yes.”
“Can I … ?”
Taking his hand in hers, she placed his palm against her and concentrated, waiting for some hint of movement.
Nothing. Gwen watched Arthur try to hide his disappointment. She wasn’t sure what it was about his luck; since that first fateful try in the nursery, he hadn’t been able to catch Gwen when the baby kicked. Some of that blame was hers, Gwen thought. She’d gotten his hopes up before anyone touching her stomach would’ve been able to feel what she felt going on inside. And then, when the first real kicking began - the kind she could share with others - he was never around. But Merlin had felt it, and now Morgana, and the physician … Rosaline and Hannah … even Cookie the cook …
He looked up at her and forced a smile. “Maybe hundreth time’s a charm?”
She pressed her hand to his cheek again. “You just set my heart racing,” Gwen replied, leaning in to offer an apologetic kiss. “It’s a little hard for him to compete.”
Arthur grinned and Gwen felt satisfied. Lucky number one hundred it would be.
They turned, shoulder to shoulder, to face the blinding light outside the tent. Gwen wouldn’t be made a liar; she took a deep breath to still her racing heart, though it did little good. She wondered if she’d ever get over this … the shock of greeting the masses … what she meant to them, and what they meant to her.
Arthur’s hand found hers. “Don’t be nervous,” he whispered into her ear. “You look the part.”
She grinned and looked up at him, the weight of her crown bearing down slightly on her head. “I know. So do you.”
***
Gwen’s eyes drifted shut, and she tipped her face toward the sun, letting out a contented sigh as the trio wandered aimlessly through the wheat field. She felt impossibly content in this peaceful place, just outside the lower town.
Only one thing could improve this bliss. She wished Arthur could enjoy this brief reprieve from duty, but he was held up in a brief meeting before they were due to dine with their guests and the knights. How Merlin managed to get out of attendance - anything Arthur had to suffer through, he insisted his friend-advisor did the same - Guinevere wasn’t entirely sure.
The joust that morning had been exhilarating, but exhausting. Deep down, she knew she’d never be able to repay the people of Camelot for their kindness to her. When crowned queen, more than a few members of the nobility looked down their noses at her, shocked by Arthur’s impudence and Gwen’s sheer gall, and a few openly scorned this affront to the court of Camelot. But the townspeople lifted Gwen up. Men and women, her friends and her fellows, elders who’d helped to raise her after her mother’s death, and children whom Gwen enabled and endured, they stood behind her with unwavering faith and admiration.
Today, in the face of her nerves at appearing in front of such a large crowd in this changed state, they cheered her as always. She’d spend her life showing them gratitude for their faith. And she’d remember to teach her child to honor them as they would inevitable honor him.
Or her.
She smiled and brought her hands to her belly once more. And when she opened her eyes to seek out her friends and remark on the day’s beauty, she found herself staring squarely at Morgana and Merlin, side-by-side, grinning at her.
Gwen’s face went hot under their scrutiny. “What?”
Merlin shrugged, pulling buds of grain from the stalk in his hands. “Nothing. You just look … different,” his non-committed only answer.
“Well,” she laughed, raising an eyebrow, “If that’s all-”
“I think it’s …” he gestured vaguely to his own stomach - and Gwen noted for the first time, upon glancing down at her protruding middle, that she was significantly larger than him there. “You’re … growing.”
She tried not to sound too indignant. “I am pregnant, you know,” and with that, Gwen turned and moved off a little, catching the tops of the wheat stalks between her fingertips.
Merlin could clearly feel the moment turning, and Gwen heard him take a few hasty steps after her. She turned to tell him that it was all right, that she didn’t mind - because she truly didn’t mind the belly so long as she didn’t do to much expanding anywhere else - only to find Morgana doing her work for her.
“Honestly, Merlin,” she sighed, rolling her eyes and taking a few light steps in front of him. He shrank a little under what had to have been a hard stare, and again Gwen was prepared to interrupt, but the look on her sister-in-law’s face stopped her. Morgana turned back to face Gwen, fair and beautiful, with a small smile and impossibly distant look in her eyes. She weaved through the waist high grass with ease, coming to stop just in front of Gwen.
Guinevere held her silent gaze, as she always did when Morgana seemed to be in a far away place … seeing things the young queen couldn’t even begin to imagine. They stood like that for a long while, until Gwen opened her mouth, ready to bring Morgana back to the present. But a sudden gust of wind made Gwen’s hair drift into her face and catch in the corner of her mouth. And by the time she righted herself, Morgana’s stare was decidedly less intense and even more tender, if possible.
She reached out and caught Gwen’s hand. “You look beautiful,” she murmured. “More every day.”
“That’s what I meant!” blurted Merlin from a few feet off.
Morgana rolled her eyes, but Gwen couldn’t help but laugh. “You’re both too good to me,” she replied loud enough for Merlin to hear as he approached. She squeezed Morgana’s hand and gave a slight nod toward the castle. “We’d better be getting back, Arthur will be looking for us.”
She turned to begin walking, but Merlin caught her arm. “What-?”
Just eye level, Merlin held up a small, intricately woven pony, fashioned entirely out of wheat stalk. Gwen gasped a little, eyes flicking between Merlin’s pleased smile and the tiny treasure he held out to her. “How’d you do this so quickly?” she breathed, then giggled. “Of course.”
“Magic, remember?” He blushed and nodded toward Gwen’s belly. “For him.”
“Her,” corrected Morgana.
“It’s perfect.” She turned the miniature figure over in her hands. “Thank you, Merlin.”
Gwen reached out and drew Merlin into a brief embrace, careful not to bend the wheat pony. And she tamped down the sudden tightness in her throat when she heard him whisper awkwardly, and sincerely, into her hair that he agreed with Morgana.
***
On the walk back to the castle, Gwen was content to let Merlin and Morgana chat on about whatever magical trick they were discussing. As best she could tell, it was a continuation of some previous conversation - some bit of knowledge Morgana had surprised Merlin with her knowledge of, and Gwen didn’t doubt that it would take a good deal of effort to include her in it anyway.
Her thoughts were redirected to the little dance that seemed to be going on deep in her belly. For certain, the baby had been active about three weeks or so now. But early on and for long now, its movements felt more like an actual case of butterflies, or acorns bouncing around in her stomach. And more often than not, it seemed only to happen when she was lying flat, just before bed or early in the morning. But in recent days, it started to feel like the little thing was trying to stretch out, find a comfortable position. And though the little reminder that whoever was in there was alive and well, it still took a little getting used to.
“The queen!”
A little voice drew her out of her reverie.
They were halfway back to the castle entrance, just outside the apothecary and, Gwen knew, an inn on the other side of the road. The town was busy for the middle of the afternoon, likely the result of so many people putting off their duties for the day in honor of the tournament that morning. A few people looked out their windows and doors, and those who’d been milling about on the street had apparently stopped at the sight of Gwen, Merlin and Morgana walking, unattended by guards or fanfare.
A young boy, who probably didn’t remember Guinevere at all though she’d visited his mother in the days after his birth five years ago to bring her fresh bread, was in the middle of the road blocking their way.
She smiled, “Hello Benjamin.”
The wide-eyed - and slightly awestruck - boy stared up at the three of them, opened-mouthed.
Merlin’s voice was suddenly very close. “Looks like a fish,” he muttered.
Before Gwen could hush her friend, a much older woman joined the little boy. “Benjamin!” she scolded, before looking up at Guinevere apologetically. “Your highness, my lord Merlin-” Gwen distinctly saw Merlin’s chest puff out a little, “Lady Morgana. I am so sorry-”
“Louise, you have nothing to be sorry for!” Guinevere smiled brightly, “I barely recognized Benjamin, he’s so grown up!”
Louise blushed deeply, but could not hide her smile. “Clearly lacking in manners.”
“Oh, he hardly said two words-”
“He only said two words,” supplied Merlin.
Gwen shot him a quick look, to which Merlin just grinned. “He’s adorable.”
Another woman, much older than Gwen, spoke up from her doorway. “You’re looking well, my lady!” she interrupted, then - as an afterthought - gave a hasty curtsey to accompany the kind look on her face.
Gwen blushed. “Thank you.”
“What brings you out of the castle, my lady?”
Her gaze was drawn to her left, and Gwen noticed that the small crowd had grown by a few. She wasn’t quite sure who had asked the question, so Gwen let her eyes roam about the cluster of faces, curious, pleased, tan doubtless from hours spent in the summer sun. “There’s no better way to enjoy Camelot than to be out in such beautiful weather,” she offered, raising an eyebrow, then smiled, “I would not have the opportunity to greet you all otherwise.”
Many nodded in agreement, and Gwen looked back at her friends. “We should be on our way, I think?” Morgana gave Gwen an indecipherable smile.
There was a quiet, but meaningful chorus of, 'My lady's as the people parted for Gwen, Merlin and Morgana to pass. But Gwen hardly made it two steps before another young girl - a little older than Benjamin … perhaps close to the age Gwen had been at her mother’s passing - stepped in her path again, and held out a tiny spray of wildflowers, a little bent at the end, as though she’d been holding them for a while.
Guinevere’s heart swelled a little at the small gesture, and the queen dipped her head as she took them. “Thank you,” she murmured. The child smiled, and Gwen noticed two missing front teeth.
She was pleased, and her voice did not shrink … even in the presence of the king’s most cherished loved-ones. “You’re welcome, my lady.”
The baby fluttered again.
***
The great hall was filled with life in a way that Gwen had not seen before.
It gave her no end of happiness to think that it was Arthur’s reign that lifted the dark cloud that had long dampened the people of Camelot’s joy. Certainly there had been happy moments under Uther’s watch - in the castle walls and out - but around each corner there had been darkness, feeing on secrets and fear. In this hall, at this moment, the people before Gwen seemed truly happy. And it was to her husband’s credit.
Golden light filled the room. The meal was long finished, but minstrels played on exuberantly. In the center of the hall, more than a few people were dancing, Morgana included. Gwen’s sister-in-law was beautiful as ever as she took a turn with Sir Leon, while many men looked on, waiting their chance with her. Merlin, of course, was tucking in to what had to be his fourth.
Gwen remained alone at her seat up on the dais. She’d lost Arthur in the crowd; he was doubtless playing the gracious host, perhaps regaling the knights with an exaggerated telling of some adventure, or sharing a drink with one of the visiting kings. Whatever the case, Gwen thought with a smile, he would be fulfilling his duty admirably, and hopefully enjoying himself.
Her part was done. For a while, she moved about, entertaining polite conversation with visiting ladies with Morgana at her side. But as soon as her friend moved off to enjoy the attention of dashing and unmarried men, Guinevere took her leave. It was a blessed and unexpected consequence of pregnancy … carte-blanche to seek personal peace away whenever she wanted a moment.
Rosaline approached, holding a gold pitcher close to her chest. “More to drink, my lady?”
“No, thank you,” Gwen replied, pushing her goblet away a little. “I’m too full as it is.”
Her handmaiden turned and surveyed the hall in front of Gwen before giving a decisive nod of approval. “It’s a lovely occasion. Everybody seems in high spirits.”
“They do.” Gwen reached out and took her hand, squeezing it briefly. “Except you! Go, dance.”
Rosaline blushed straight away. “I couldn’t.”
But Gwen smiled up at her, rising to stand as well. “Of course. Weren’t you just telling me about a young man the other day-”
“Sir Raphael?” blurted Rosaline.
The look in her eye was familiar, Gwen mused. “That’s the one. Won’t you dance with him?”
“Oh no, no, no, my lady. I couldn’t.”
“Of course you can.” She slipped her arm through Rosaline’s and together, they walked in step together, down the first step, then the second, down to the floor. “You look lovely,” she paused, then added with a wink, “And I saw him looking your way earlier.”
Rosaline gasped, but one look at her mistress set her grinning. “Perhaps I could say ‘hi.’”
Gwen released her arm and nodded. “Whatever you do, promise me you’ll enjoy yourself. This is for everyone.”
She released Rosaline’s arm and turned to retake her seat. After a few steps in Sir Raphael’s direction, however, Rosaline turned back to face Gwen. “My lady?” She curtseyed deeply.
Guinevere smiled and waved her hand, shooing her away. “Rosie-”
“You look beautiful tonight,” Rosaline interrupted in typical rushed fashion, a look of appreciation on her face. “More than ever before.”
It was Gwen’s turn to blush. Before she could reply, Rosaline whirled around and rushed off, caught in the throes of affection.
She was surprised to see Arthur hovering just above her, resting a casual arm on the head of her throne. Making no attempt to hide her smile, she wordlessly made her way to him, holding up the hem of her dress. He waited, gazing upon her warmly, and when she was close he held out his hand to her.
“You appeared out of no where,” Guinevere murmured, unexpectedly breathless.
Arthur shrugged a little, eyes flicking to the crowd. “Business. You were sitting for a while.” He paused. “How are you doing?”
She rubbed her thumb over the back of his hand reassuringly. “Mother and child are well.”
Relief washed over his face, and he drew closer, leaving little space between them. Under other circumstances, Gwen might’ve teasingly backed away in favor of decorum. Now, she found she just didn’t care. Perhaps it was the weather or the music on the two sips of wine she’d allowed herself, but the way his head was bowed as he took in the sight of her, and the sparkle in his eye, she felt a little warm. Voices and laugher in the hall faded into an indecipherable buzz.
Arthur cleared his throat, looking up at her once more. “I heard you caused a small commotion in the town today.”
“False,” Gwen replied, playfully defiant.
“Really?” Arthur raised an eyebrow. “Merlin says you had the people rendered speechless-”
She laughed outright. “A little boy-”
“And tonight,” interrupted Arthur. His hand found her tummy, and Gwen sidestepped so that no one behind her could see it resting there. He leaned a little closer. “King Olaf himself remarked on how radiant you look.” He hesitated, then pressed on with a cheeky grin. “I nearly challenged him to a duel.”
Gwen rolled her eyes. “Arthur-”
“I didn’t, and that’s saying something.”
“Is it? And what’s that?”
He rubbed the curve of her stomach and looked away, self-effacing smile on his lips. “You do look beautiful. Like this.”
She was overcome by a strong desire to kiss him then, and Gwen forced herself to look at the corner of the room just above his right shoulder until she got a grip on the charge of desire that coursed through her. Just as she felt okay again, not like she was going to perform some objectionable act with the king in public, she gasped and gave a little start.
Guinevere almost laughed at Arthur’s wide-eyed shock, and she couldn’t help but giggle at the grin that followed. Or at the thought of warrior Arthur jumping a little as both his hands settled on the center of her belly. “Was that it?” he demanded loudly.
Gwen giggled, too pleased to shush him. He laughed brightly. “Do it again!”
“You know very well that I can’t-”
The baby kicked once more, to Arthur’s pleasure and Gwen’s amusement. She was certain they were calling attention to themselves; she felt more than a few pairs of eyes on her back. But Guinevere very quickly realized that for this special moment, she didn’t really care.