Title: The story of Warm Bronze
Author:
mustbethursday3Prompt(s): #82, Awkward for Camelot_love's drabble part of
Spring Fling.
Rating/Warnings: G
Word Count: 1100 ---So damn close to the word limit. But I NEED that extra 100, I tells ya.
Author's notes: It's some weird retelling of Snow White that popped into my head, well for 'Duel' anyway, but I figured a prequel for the fic I have yet to finish (for my other prompt 'Duel') would suit nicely. So, yeh, going to muddy up the waters of fairytaledom as much as possible. You should see what I'm thinking of doing with Lancelot XD . . . no wait, don't imagine anything, you'll just get disappointed if I don't use him.
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Young Queen Annalisa Leodegrance looked out over the Kingdom of Telia, her hands tracing over her stomach wishing for a daughter with skin as warm as bronze, lips red as blood, and hair black as ebony . . .
Later, she had but moments to realise her yearning had been answered, though her husband had silent vowed to cherish their child enough for the both of them.
A promise he later thoughtlessly broke.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
It had been widely agreed upon, from her very first days, that Guinevere, with her sweet temper and smile would be a beauty to rival her late mother’s.
The Princess had been a curious child, serene, her large doe eyes studying everything from the safety of her father’s lap, or as she peeked out from his side, and she could always be found at the battlements whenever visitors were expected. No matter how many guards or nursemaids where put on her tail.
Ever watchful, ever listening to the hum from the servants, or the drone from the council chambers.
And very aware of her surroundings for her age.
Though few, but those closest, had noticed the mischievous lilt to her smiles, or the purpose she seemed to carry, ever the little Queen, the diplomat, which only became more obvious into her later years.
It had been sometime later, at the tender age of twelve, when she’d experienced a life changing moment, one she would never fully recover from and always look back on as her greatest mistake.
The day she had foolishly let her father go.
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A party from the neighboring Kingdom of Camelot had arrived, including King Uther and his young son. Gwen had already scoped them out from her perch above the courtyard; she’d met Uther once before, a stern looking man who had surprised her with his extraordinary ability to tell jokes.
But the boy was new.
Short, being her first assessment, followed quickly by grumpy and stubborn as she watched him unwillingly dismount from his horse, standing arms crossed as another boy ran to his side.
A dark haired boy, who seemed to sense her gaze from above and turned his head up to met her surprised eyes, then he’d grinned and she’d been helpless but to respond in kind. Head ducking and pulling back from the edge as her cheeks flushed.
There weren’t many who could surprise her, which made this boy very interesting indeed.
“This is Arthur,” Tom told his daughter, as Gwen stood, hands clasped before her, seemingly composed, but he didn’t miss the way his daughter’s eyes flashed with amusement as the golden haired boy scowled at her.
There had been talk of a possible match between the two heirs ever since the time of their birth only a day apart. And both Kingdoms’ stood to gain from such a union, more or less equally matched in the size of their armies and the rich quality of life of their peoples.
The two children had eyed each other, before Arthur had made the first move, sticking out his hand, meaning to kiss the back of hers. But Gwen was quicker. Snatching the hand from the air and pressing her ruby mouth to his skin.
Stepping back, grinning as much as Arthur was gaping, Gwen had looked up at both adults and sobered her face. “I’m afraid I cannot marry him, Papa,” she’d apologized shaking her little head and sending a shower of curls bouncing. “He tastes funny.”
Eyes wide and indignant, Arthur had turned, appealing to his father.
“She licked me!”
He’d held up his hand as proof, jaw tightening in anger as both Kings had struggled not to laugh, while the girl. The Girl, he was starting not to like very much at all, had the audacity to wink at Merlin, who was now not so silently standing behind him.
It was officially the worst trip ever.
Then Merlin had moved to his side, completely ignoring decorum - as usual - and offered his hand.
“Merlin.”
The cheeky girl had nodded, reaching to shake his hand, “Gwen.”
“It’s nice to meet you,” Merlin had grinned. “Arthur can never be teased enough,” he’d added, bringing the small hand up to his mouth, pausing for a moment as the girl’s grin widened, before gently kissing it.
The girl’s cheeks had flushed as she giggled, “The pleasure’s all mine, Merlin.”
Arthur had rolled his eyes, already trying to block them both out by listening back into his father and King Thomas’ conversation, finding disappointedly that this ‘little display’ wasn’t enough to call for an early return home.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
There had been a flutter of movement, chatter that seemed to die and then restart with renewed vigor and Gwen felt a wave of nausea hit her, causing her to tighten her grip on Merlin’s hand.
The servant boy had moved to her side, not attempting to loosen her grip, as he paled as well. Together they’d looked back at the door and saw the swirl of silken cloak and gown as a mysterious woman strode confidently in their direction.
Towards the two Kings.
Later, Gwen would recognize the stuffy feeling in her head as her stepmother’s attempts to use her influence, to soften her mind and slow her thoughts. Which Gwen had quickly used her natural immunity to build up a resistance to, but this first time Gwen could do little more then tug at her father’s sleeve and draw his attention to the visitor.
Both Kings had sucked in a breath as they’d looked at the beautiful woman, sparkling jewels at her throat, a sway in her step, as she’d approached.
Instinctively, feeling her head getting more hazy with each step the woman took, Gwen had let go of her father’s sleeve and stepped forward to grab Arthur’s, pulling him towards her and Merlin.
Watching some of the blankness clear from the Prince’s eyes as she searched them, knowing Merlin’s eyes hadn’t left the woman. She wanted to ask if he was okay, she wanted someone to ask her if she was okay . . .no one did.
“My lords,” the woman had curtsied, demurely, before both Uther and Thomas, and then offered her hand to the latter, “I do hope you will excuse the intrusion. I am the Countess Morgana,” she’d smiled.
The children had felt their skin crawl.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
It was a moment Gwen dreamed of many nights after that.
Always waking to find her heart beating erratically, breath short and her cheeks wet with the tears she refused to shed while conscious.
Because that was the moment she should have hung on.
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Okay, so it might take me a few more days to finish 'Duel' (kind of know what I'm doing, but then i always think that!) and then I have 'Picnic' (ah, picnic, why did i choose you?), and 'Running' (which I actually have a plan for, HURRAY).
Am I pushing the limits of Drabble, and this is secretly a fic chapter? . . . May-be XD
Oh, dear.
Ohh and shameless plug of an RPF (B/A of course, with added M&M)
mydoctortennant and I worked on which can be found
here in HER writing journal :D
Part 2 - Duel
Part 3 - Running
Part 4 - Picnic