The Wife 2/?
Title: The Wife 2/?
Author:tudor_rose445
Rating: R
Characters/Pairings:Arthur, Guinevere, Morgana, Uther, Merlin, Gaius, Arthur/Guinevere,
Spoilers: Seasons 1-3
Disclaimer: I own nothing. BBC owns "Merlin".
Summary: AU. As the wife of the prince Gwen knows that she is destined to one day rule beside him. Yet the road to the throne will not be simple. Talks of an heir looming above her, the growing worry over Morgana, Uther's ill health, and her confusion over her spouse will not help in the slightest. Yet her trials are nesecary to grow into her title as 'wife' to one of legend's most famous kings. The second entry in "The Once and Future" series.
Chapter 2:
The couple learn to be more comfortable about each other.
Author's Note:
Thanks to Guardian Izz for beta-ing and helping to move around the, er, certain scene of this chapter.. :)
“Remember to write often,” Gwen instructed her friend, embracing Morgana as she waited beside her horse. The princess had expressed her concern in private about her pregnant friend riding, yet Morgana had brushed her worry aside.
Morgana nodded silently as she held onto her friend before moving to her brother, clutching him tightly. He whispered something to her before relinquishing the queen. She finished the small semi-circle of family with her father who had barely hidden tears in his eyes.
Was it just Gwen, or did Morgana not seem as sincere in her embrace with her father as she had been with herself and Arthur?
Still confused, she watched as her friend was helped atop her horse, giving her family a last farewell before being led off by her entourage of knights.
Thankfully Morgana hadn't, to Guinevere's knowledge, sought out Merlin. Perhaps she had accepted that it was over.
The princess wished that her friend could have stayed longer, but she knew that the woman couldn't dare tarry anymore. The queen had arrived earlier than the rest of the wedding guests and had left a day after they had. Not to mention that she had a husband waiting for her in Gore.
What would Ursien do when he found out that his wife was with child? Hopefully he would leave her alone until the birth of the babe. Yet, judging by what she had seen and heard of the king, Gwen doubted that he would.
Thoughts involving her future niece or nephew reminded her of the conversation she had with Arthur the previous night. She knew that it wasn’t meant to be an ultimatum when he mentioned that visiting Morgana would only be possible after the birth of their first child. All the same it sounded like a condition. And it was fair; once they had a baby, preferably a son, she would be allowed more freedom to do what she wished.
A baby.
What would it feel like to carry a child within her womb? To feel it move and grow? She had seen plenty of pregnant women at court before but had never been present at an actual birth. She knew it would hurt; reading catechism about Eve's punishment, even as a child she understood the extent of such pain.
She found herself shifting her footing in her unease.
Well, Arthur had managed to fit but that had been painful.
And, even though she hadn't actually looked at his manhood, she had felt it. And what she had felt had been rather large.
But not as large as a baby’s head!
“Guinevere?”
Her husband's hand on her arm brought her back to the present.
“I was just thinking,” she said, trying to push away her discomfort with a small smile.
He furrowed his eyebrows, clearly wishing for her to elaborate.
Well, she couldn't tell him exactly what she had been thinking of. “Of your birthday feast,” she amended, knowing that she indeed had yet to plan it.
He linked their arms, steering her from the courtyard.
“You could start with the preparations the morning before, it would still turn out a spectacular sight,” he teased, pleased noticing a blush now spreading across cheeks at his compliment.
“You had best take care,” she said, swatting his forearm playfully. “If you continue flattering me as such, I shall have as large of an ego as you.”
He rolled his eyes as she laughed.
“I had promised you a riding trip. I left Leon in charge of the knights for the afternoon… hoping that you would accompany me.”
His demeanor changed to hopefulness, as if he fully expected her to turn him down. Surely she wasn’t that disagreeable towards him, if she was it was not on purpose. Though still a bit sore, her discomfort was nothing compared to the aching the previous day.
“With the pillion pad?” she asked, curious to try this new riding style.
He nodded, changing their course to the stables.
Being alone together both intrigued and discomforted her.
Alone, without the eyes of the nobles and the small, knowing looks that she had gotten all of yesterday and today would be a relief. She knew it was now a common knowledge that she and the prince had consummated their marriage, yet the approving looks and hidden smiles made her rather uncomfortable.
Yet, getting away from the court meant that she would be alone with her husband. Alone, where no one else would see or hear them.
Brushing aside her apprehension she half-listened to him as he requested his palfrey to be saddled with the gift, not making a move toward him until the stable boy returned leading the horse. His sword, resting in his scabbard moments before, had been transferred to the leather holder attached to the saddle.
Gwen picked up the hem of her skirts, clearly expecting him to give her a leg up onto the horse. Instead the knight grabbed her about the waist, depositing her behind the saddle on the pad set for her. She scrambled to set her skirts in order once more, catching sight of her husband's barely hidden mirth.
Grumbling to herself she moved to wrap her arms about his torso once he had mounted.
“Find your center of balance,” he instructed, turning his head slightly to look at her once he had steered them from the stable yard. His ungloved hands guided the horse onto the path taken just recently by Morgana's party. Instead of following the main road, as they had, he turned them off to a horse trodden path.
She balanced herself upon the pad, thinking that his instructions sounded rather like when her father's Master of the Horse had first taught her years ago. They trotted along the path and, Gwen decided, this style of riding was rather alike how she normally rode. Without the pommel, that is, which she wrapped her leg around for the support. But if she used Arthur as a sort of 'pommel' for her arms and if she kept her back straight she found it much easier to sit the gait.
She could feel, so closely pressed up to him, that his arms were straining to hold the animal back.
“Let him run,” she said, tilting her head so that she could speak closer to his ear.
“You had best hold on then,” he instructed, chuckling softly as he adjusted his grip.
“Tell me if I'm squeezing you too hard.”
“Squeeze away milady, squeeze away.”
With that he relaxed his grip a bit upon the reins, nudging the animal slightly with his heels. The grateful gelding took off at a swift canter, carrying the two down the tree-lined path.
Gwen allowed a laugh to bubble up from her throat, not worrying about whether anyone might hear and criticize her on showing such emotion.
She focused on keeping her seat, refraining from turning too stiff, and found that she was able to sit the canter much easier than she had expected.
Moving up to rest her chin upon her friend's shoulder she felt his back muscles move as he followed the rhythm of the horse with his arms. She felt freedom like she hadn't felt in quite some time as they nearly flew along the path. A feeling of abandon, with no danger of dread ahead.
They weren't the Crown Prince and his Princess. Nor were they husband and wife. Here, alone in the woods with nothing but mother nature surrounding them, they could be just Arthur and Gwen.
Slowly the prince returned the horse to a trot, allowing him to wind down into a walk.
Gwen loosened her grip about the man's waist having not realized how tightly she had been holding him.
“How was it?” he asked, patting the horse's neck before turning to glance at her.
Her cheeks, bright from both the excitement and the pace they had travelled, dimpled as she smiled. “It was fun,” quite genuine with her smile.
“I think, I would like to ride like this, for at least some of the journey, when we go on this year’s progress tour.”
He nodded and, as he was turned away at the time, she couldn't see the excitement barely hidden on his face.
He halted the horse beside a brook of fresh running water and dismounted.
Arthur held out his arms for her, helping her to slide down to her feet.
As she dusted off her skirt he pulled out a blanket from the leather saddlebag, handing it to her: “I'll just tie up the horse; could you put this down?”
She nodded, unfolding the thick warm wool with linen coverlet carefully before spreading it out upon the grass. Her gaze moved to the stream as she slipped off her shoes.
It was terribly hot out for June-nearly July- and no one could fault her with taking this opportunity away from the court’s prying eyes to cool down. She indiscreetly cast a look at Arthur, checking to see that he was still attending to his horse, before rolling down her stockings.
Sighing she walked carefully into the water. The stream, running low in the summer drought, lapped just above her ankles. With her skirt bunched in one hand she allowed herself to close her eyes, breathing in the very scent of the forest about her.
“Do you remember-,” he started, breaking her from her reverie as she opened her eyes, “-that time Morgana went to chase me out of the water, and fell in the mud?”
Gwen giggled, turning to face the man that she now called husband, before making her way back to him.
He held out his hand for her to grasp as she climbed up the bank.
“I do not think I have ever seen her that astounded since then,” she commented, remembering the event quite well. She had been nearly in tears from her laughter as she had tried to help her friend clear the mud from both her gown, skin and hair.
She dropped his hand as they both sat upon the blanket. Reaching for her stockings she moved to roll them back up her legs.
“No...leave them,” he requested, causing her hands to still.
She gave him a questioning look but nevertheless set the stockings back on the blanket.
Silence fell between the two for a moment, as each seemed transfixed with thoughts circling through their minds.
Finally he spoke.
“How are you feeling?”
The question could have meant a myriad of different things. Was she feeling well? Were her humors off, perhaps? Was she adjusting well as the wedding chaos settled down? Was she … healed?
Knowing it was most likely the last mentioned, she nodded.
“I am feeling... much better,” she said, unsure of what to say. She was feeling better but she certainly wasn't going to describe it to him in detail.
He nodded - a movement she caught from the corner of her eye. “Good.” He hesitated before placing a warm comforting hand on her arm. “You know that I would never hurt you, do you not? That the discomfort the other night was unavoidable?”
She nodded, not speaking for fear that her tone would wobble in her embarrassment.
His hand drifted up to her face, brushing back a stray curl.
“We should head back,” she announced, gathering up her discarded stockings, “I did not tell my ladies where I was going”. She slipped the two transparent garments back on, trying to keep her legs covered with her skirts as much as possible before stepping into her shoes.
She tried not to notice the barely hidden look of disappointment upon his features as he folded up the cover they had been sitting upon.
Wordlessly he hoisted her up onto the pad once more, untied the palfrey, and swung himself up into the saddle.
She frowned into his back as they broke into a trot. Did he honestly expect to … have relations with her here? In the middle of the woods? Or had he just been trying to assure her that things would be different next time? Either way she had just rejected him.
She wasn't supposed to do that, was she?
Feeling torn between self-preservation and obedience she kept quiet the entire ride back.
0o0o0
Arthur stared up at the ceiling as he waited for Gwen to finish preparing for bed. She was, as she had the previous night, taking an inordinately long time dressing.
Had his attentions scared her off?
He hadn't meant to frighten her this afternoon, truly. He had simply wanted to just talk to her. With the constant threat of prying ears overhearing their private conversations in the citadel he had chosen that remote spot in the woods, hoping that she too would appreciate the secluded solitude.
He had drawn up a noble plan to soothe her fears by speaking to her in confidence, but that had all been dashed when his young bride had taken off her damned stockings. He had then thought back to the other night, when her bare legs had met his for the first time. And then his mind had turned to mush - his thoughts and intentions not so noble. They forgot to mention this when he vowed to follow the knights’ Code of Chivalry…
He wasn't proud of how she made him feel. For some time now, the prince has been struggling with the constant urge of simply grabbing a hold of his father’s ward and kissing her senseless, propriety be damned. He’s lost count of the number of feasts and banquets, when he’s lost track of time while staring openly at either her or shooting daggers with his eyes at one of her male dinner companions. Even Merlin has come under suspicion on one or two occasions.
Thinking as a typical male warrior would, Arthur fully expected these urges to subside once he’s claimed her as his wife for all the world to witness, neither knights nor Barons would dare to linger their gazes upon her now. Yet, it seemed that after he’s finally acted upon his urges on their wedding night he couldn’t stop the swelling within his limbs every time thoughts of her crossed his mind - most inconveniently frequent thoughts they were. His possessive thoughts and behaviour worried him; he felt something akin to a stumbling boy in love.
In love…
He exhaled rather loudly, letting his fingertips beat out a pattern against the coverlet.
Who was he kidding?
He had been in love with her since he had seen her at his crowning ceremony, two years ago.
The door opening broke him from his thoughts as his wife appeared, clad in her nightdress.
Gwen gave him a half smile before padding across the room to their bed. Once she had pulled the blankets over herself, the princess chanced a look at him. Her shyness was endearing, but it was beginning to put a damper on their child-making.
She gave him a look bordering on apprehension and expectation.
Gently, as if he was going to reach for a spooked horse, he cupped her face. “Do you remember what I said? This afternoon?” he questioned, watching as she nodded.
“Arthur-”
“Do you trust me?”
She seemed surprised that he had asked her such a question and she stuttered over herself. “I- I trust you,” she answered, watching him in slight confusion.
Once hearing her confirmation his lips descended upon hers.
Within a few moments she relaxed against him, moulding her lips to his as she allowed herself to melt into his embrace.
Slowly he let his hand drift up her leg, resting upon her upper thigh. Her hands drifted through his hair, leaving his scalp tingling.
There.
She liked that, apparently.
He knew that he had to take things slow with her but it was so difficult. After months of wanting her, he still couldn't ravish her as he wished, despite him being her husband in every sense of the word. He couldn't - wouldn't - be able to stomach the distrust glistening in her eyes if he acted upon his desires.
Carefully he pushed the cloth further up her stomach, right before the line of her bust.
Still kissing her he began to untie the elaborate lacing.
Her hand, threaded through his locks, came to rest hurriedly upon his hand among the laces. She tore her lips from his, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath.
The newly-weds had a staring match for a beat before Arthur brushed back her curls in a comforting manner.
“Trust me,” he repeated, determinedly finishing the lacing.
With wary Guinevere she raised her arms, helping him to free her from the garment.
Fully expecting his eyes to meet her bare bust his view was blocked by her arms, snugly covering her breasts.
“Gwen,” he said, drawing out her name in a teasing manner. Gently he placed his hands on her wrists, moving them down slightly. She allowed him, refusing to meet his eye the entire time. Instead, it seemed, a crack on the ceiling had suddenly become fascinating.
Blue eyes scanned eagerly the rounded form, bared fully for the first time. “Beautiful,” he whispered, not noticing that she had finally looked at him.
Was the awe that he felt that obvious?
His lips collided with hers as he began to shrug himself out of his pants. One of his legs caught in the fabric, causing her glorious little chuckle at his ineptness. Arthur smiled against his beloved’s lips as one of his hands drifted across her toned stomach, climbing to her now unclothed bosom. He felt her breath catch in her throat as he slowly kneaded the softness, making sure to be as gentle as possible despite his own need. He was then pleased to hear the small gasps that escaped her throat in response to his ministrations, prompting him to grip them more determinedly.
If she liked that, would she like this?
He moved from her lips, kissing down her neck as she arched it for him. Instead of stopping at her collarbone, where he had left a mark two nights earlier that had yet to heal, he dipped to her breasts.
A gasp escaped her lips as his mouth lingered there, 'testing out the waters' to see how she would react. Finding that she didn't move to bat him away he turned his attention to her right breast.
“Arthur…”
The sound of his name, pronounced in a pleased whisper set him hard in a way he hadn't thought possible. It almost hurt, how much he wanted her.
He readjusted himself at her opening before slowly entering her.
Exhaling with pleasure, he gave her a moment to become used to the appendage again, despite his eagerness to just keep going.
Gently he started a rhythm, holding onto her hips with his hands to show her how to follow. He shifted one of his hands to grip her shoulder, finding, much to his satisfaction, that she followed the movement-pattern that he had showed her. Without jarring her too much he raised himself to his knees, lifting her lower half with him.
Her mouth fell into a soft 'o' shape at the movement. Rocking against her he found that she picked up on this new pace, meeting his hips. He had to get her to completion first, otherwise it would be more difficult for him.
Shifting his weight forward he was met with a rather glorious gasp from his wife.
Smirking to himself he repeated the thrust, a bit harder this time, and was met with a soft moan.
That delightful little gasp that he could liken almost to a kitten mew. It would seem that Guinevere had a difficult time to keep quiet, and he rather liked that he was the cause for her indiscretion.
Arthur studied her expression waiting for the moment that it would dawn upon her. She was being extremely expressive tonight and he hoped their second night joined together wouldn't disappoint.
He moved closer in between her thighs, as close as he could so that she couldn’t distinguish where she began and he ended - finally, he saw the realization in her eyes.
She looked marginally confused for a second before her doe eyes widened.
Feeling her lower muscles tighten around him was enough to send his own release within her.
He leaned down, capturing her lips and the moan that had been halfway through her throat.
Carefully lowering her hips back to the mattress, he unwrapped her legs from around his waist, and placed them back on the blankets.
He stayed rooted inside of her for a moment longer, enjoying the warmth that she provided as they fought to catch their breath.
“See?” he questioned, his tone sounding odd even to himself as he was winded. “You can trust me,” he whispered, leaning his forehead against hers.
She nodded touching his shaved jaw with trembling palms, not bothering with words, and pecked his lips.
Reluctantly extracting himself Arthur moved onto his side, drawing her closer. Content to have Guinevere so close to him, enveloped in his strong arms, the prince fell asleep rather quickly.
While he slumbered the young woman beside him stayed awake, confusion marring her mind.