The Wife 3/?
Title: The Wife 3/?
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 3:
Progress begins with a failure.
Author's Note:
I had orginally decided to skip a week as school has been keeping me busy, but I never told any of you, and then I decided not to, and then I forgot to tell Guardian Izz...
If this chapter is a mess, blame me. :P
As I am trying to remain as historically correct as possible, I have included the medieval view of pregnancy. For example, it was thought that the correct way to make a child was for both partners to reach completetion, as there was no sense of 'sperm' and 'egg' then. It was simply fluid. Also, some of you might feel annoyed with the fact that Gwen is upset that she is not yet pregnant, although only married for a few weeks. Pregnancy was expected to happen right away, even though in most cases it did not.
This is more of a filler. Sorry guys.
But the next chapter will be post in 10 days instead of 14.
“And what she said next-”
Gwen stiffened as she listened to Catherine prattle on about the court lady she had overheard the previous day as a warm liquid exuded from her.
Hoping against hope that it wasn't what she thought it was she excused herself from the conversation, ducking behind her changing screen. Batilda glanced up from where she had double checking the princess' clothing trunks, which were to be carried down to the courtyard in a few moments to prepare for Progress, by the woman's abrupt flight. She followed the young woman behind the partition, watching as Gwen's face fell upon seeing blood in her undergarments.
Without being asked Batilda ordered Catherine to fetch a fresh garment and linen padding, while Beatrice and Eleanor looked on in confusion. It took them only to see the soiled garment for them to realize what had occurred, which caused them to fall silent.
She knew that even though they had only been married for about two and a half weeks that she shouldn't have expected to fall pregnant right away, but she had supposed with the frequency in which he had taken her that they might have gotten lucky.
Her skin burned, as if she could feel his touch.
She had become more used to sex despite not yet being the one to initiate it. She didn't shrink away from it; that was an improvement, right?
The entire concept and the fact that he was still coming to her bed had confused her. She had expected, by the simpering looks that most of the female courtiers gave him, that he would have gone to the more experienced ones than her. Yet instead he had returned night after night, slowly easing her into this new form of intimacy.
It wasn't that she didn't appreciate his patience; it had helped her get over her fear somewhat of who he was beneath his layers of clothing. It was just that she hadn't exactly expected to enjoy it.
What she had been told of the act, especially by Morgana, was that it was to be terribly uncomfortable and embarrassing. That was what she had set herself up for their first night, and hadn't found herself very off her mark. Yet the second time they had she had felt something different all together.
That climbing, mounting burning that had both frightened and delighted her.
Gwen hadn't exactly known what it was yet he had been pleased by it. It had only been later, sometime during the night as she was unable to drift off, did she realize that she had made sounds during it. Her cheeks had flamed as she lay across the very person who had elicited those noises from her. Yet, if anything, he had seemed pleased by the short gasps and soft moans that had arisen from her.
It had only been the morning after that she thought to ask Arthur what she had felt. Yet, facing him in the light of day, she found that she could not. She had three options then: Gaius, Batilda, or Beatrice. If she couldn't bring herself to ask her husband she couldn't imagine asking Gaius, even if he was her physician. Batilda she knew would try to sugarcoat it; the woman still saw her as a child.
Yet Beatrice was married and so far had proven trustful.
As discreetly as possible Gwen cornered her lady-in-waiting the next morning to ask about the sensation. What she learned had set her skin on fire.
But not from embarrassment, but from annoyance.
'To make a baby' she had been told. Apparently both partners needed an emission of fluid in order to conceive. Yet why had no one told her that?
If anyone it should have been her former nurse to explain things to her, yet the woman refused to acknowledge her former charge's non-virgin state. She loved the woman dearly, yet her motherly attitude could be most frustrating.
Emerging from behind her dressing partition she tried to appear as if nothing was wrong in the early morning dimness. Yet it was clear to every member of the room what had just happened.
“We must make haste,” she ordered, flying about as she tried to help speed up the last bits of packing. It was much easier to worry about whether or not she would need an extra shift or a heavier cloak than the lack of a child in her womb.
As page boys were directed into her chambers to bring her trunks down to the courtyard she pondered the choice of the king to go ahead with that summer's Progress. He couldn't be faulted for missing one year, especially as it concerned his health. Yet it was exactly because of his health that she knew he insisted on going. He could hide his fatigue from his courtiers yet the people would wonder why, if he claimed he was healed, that he did not take his annual trip to survey the kingdom.
Smoothing a wrinkle from her sleeve she nodded to her ladies, leading the small party from her dressing chamber to the corridor. Moving about the busy servants she took the path to the courtyard where already members of the court that were to accompany the king were mounting their horses.
Gwen tried to hide her feeling of apprehension as Arthur trotted up to her, pillion pad in place behind his saddle. Bouncing on the animal's back with her cycle- not to mention the stomach pains that were currently forming in her womb- didn't seem like the most ideal activity. Yet she had promised him, hadn't she?
She forced a smile onto her face as if nothing was wrong. As if she hadn't already failed at being his wife.
One of the stable boys, having just handed off a steed to an awaiting noble, moved to help her onto the back of the horse.
“We are just waiting on my father,” he explained, readjusting his hands upon the leather reins. He turned his head slightly, observing her from the corner of his eye.
“We shan't be following our normal route; it is much shorter this year.”
No elaboration was needed upon the prince's words, as both knew that a long trip would be too much for the king.
He cleared his throat, turning to face forward once more.
“I'm sorry that we won't be able to stop at your estate this year.”
Gwen was glad that he had his back turned, as she thought she was doing a poor job of hiding her disappointment.
“Perhaps next year,” she suggested, thinking that it seemed such a long time away.
She knew what needed to happen though before she could even take a foot in her family's estate's direction: she needed to birth a child. It had been the same with visiting Morgana.
“Arthur, I need to-”
“Let's get a move on.”
The king appeared at the entrance of the courtyard, brusquely walking past members of the court already astride. From far away one might think that the king was the picture of vibrancy. Yet his eyes told a different story entirely.
Knowing that this wasn't the right time to tell Arthur that their efforts had failed, she instead gripped his waist as the party took off.
0o0o0
The estate of Lord and Lady Edgar was nearly brimming with people. The two hosts were constantly circling about the banquet hall, speaking to their guests and urging them to accept more goblets of wine. The pair had always been a favorite of hers to visit whenever they went on Progress as the two had always been so kind to her and the royal children during their youth.
She remembered that the couple had had a son while she had been a child, yet the boy had died shortly after his fifth birthday. It seemed that their grief, especially that of Lady Edgar, had effectively sealed up the woman's womb.
Yet while many of the nobles had no interest in children, let alone their own, the noble pair would inquire after health and educations of the Pendragon children.
Gwen had just finished speaking to Lady Edgar, as the woman had greeted the small gaggle of noblewomen she had been standing near, and moved to grab a goblet of wine off a servant's tray.
“Not with child yet, are we?”
She turned suddenly, her hand tightening upon the stem of the glass.
One of the noblewomen that had been in the royal entourage had broken away from the other women and was approaching the princess.
Without waiting for an answer she continued.
“Everyone knows by now, my lady. I'm surprised that the prince doesn't.”
Was it her, or did this woman sound insincere when addressing her with her title?
She searched for the woman's name, recognizing her as Lady Arabella.
“How-”
“Washerwomen are very talkative with coins in their hands,” she explained, her brow furrowing. Her tone changed as she paused before the woman.
“'Tis a shame though, is it not? I thought, with the frequency in which the prince was seeing you, that you would be with child by the end of the month. But alas, it is the first of July and you are not holding the future heir.”
Gwen opened her mouth as if to retort but was unsure of what to say, yet the woman continued.
“Perhaps His Majesty is simply bored. Why, how can you expect a man to be virile if he cannot become 'stiff'? Maybe what the prince needs is someone to excite him. Have they spoken to you about that? Lapping at a man with your tongue?”
The woman sounded as if she was concerned, yet her icy gaze kept Gwen from believing her.
Lapping at what?
“I...I do not know what you mean,” she said, feeling her cheeks grow red.
“Come now, all you have to do is ask,” the woman baited, a smirk threatening her cherry red lips.
“He has always enjoyed it in the past.”
Realizing that she had been conversing to one of her husband's former mistresses, she hurriedly excused herself before melting into the crowd.
Arabella watched her leave, a satisfied look about her features, before returning to her friends.
Beatrice turned from where she stood, back to where the two women had been speaking, casting the treacherous noblewoman a severe look.
0o0o0
As space was limited to the amount of courtiers that had accompanied the royal party, and the fact that their hosts' home was nowhere near the size of their citadel, the couple was given a single bedchamber. It was there that she found herself sitting upon a plush lined stool while Beatrice combed her long hair.
Batilda was helping the other women unpack Gwen's clothing for the next day while going about turning down the bed. By all rights Merlin, as Arthur's servant, should have been helping them. But knowing Arthur he had probably sent the boy on an errand.
Seeing that the other women were busy with their tasks, Beatrice leaned down to Gwen's ear.
“You should not permit courtiers to talk to you the way Lady Arabella did, Your Highness,” she commented, meeting Gwen's eyes in the mirror before the stool.
The young woman carefully rearranged the jeweled hairpins that had dotted her onyx curls earlier that night where they rested upon the table top as she thought over her lady's words.
“I can handle myself, Beatrice,” she admonished lightly, half-turning on her stool to observe the older lady.
“I thank you for your concern, but it is unneeded.”
Beatrice bowed her head slightly, knowing that to say more would be upsetting to her mistress.
Without bothering to knock Arthur strode into the room, taking in the excess of females, before settling upon his wife.
“That will be all,” he ordered, nodding as the women curtsied before leaving the couple alone. Gwen allowed him a half-smile before turning back to the mirror, wielding Beatrice's discarded brush in her hand.
“Here.”
Gently he took it from her, having crossed the room to where she was, and began to drag the bristles gently through her curls.
Without having realized it, the princess gave a soft sigh of satisfaction at the sensation of the bristles caressing her scalp..
His movement halted for a moment, causing her to meet his eyes in the mirror. The blue depths were considerably darker, as they often were when he was atop her at night.
But what had she done? She had sighed....had that pleased him so much?
She supposed, if she thought about it, that it had rather sounded like the soft noises she made alone with him.
Feeling redness spread across her face she averted her eyes to the table top. She had to tell him that she would be unable to be physical with him this moment, or she would find herself being pressed down upon the bed a moment later.
“I am on my menses,” she explained, the blush burning from both embarrassment at the topic and shame that she had yet to become pregnant.
Once more he began to brush out her hair, as if the moment that had just passed between them hadn't happened.
“It is only the start of July,” he commented as he let his fingers drift through the silky strands.
“Do not fault yourself so early.”
He rested the brush against the table top before moving to rummage through his clothing chests for sleeping pants. He mumbled something about his 'inept servant' before finally coming across the clothing that he wished for.
Carefully she divided her hair into three sections, beginning to braid it.
She tried not to glance at him as he dressed, and instead moved toward their borrowed bed to settle herself in. Why she felt that she should not look she did not understand; it wasn't as if she hadn't already seen what was beneath his clothes.
He came to rest beside her bare-chested, looking rather cooler than her in his attire. She inwardly lamented that because of the flowing of menstrual blood she too could not sleep with less layers. Instead of keeping away from her, as she had imagined he would, Arthur pulled her closer to him.
He pressed a kiss atop her head, leaving her to wonder if he was not upset with her lack of child as she had first thought.
0o0o0
“I sometimes think about him.”
The group had left Lord Edgar's early that morning, moving onto the next leg of their trip. If they kept this pace, and were unheeded by any rain or other such weather, they would arrive at Baron Galfridus' not long after sunset.
Having found her thoughts drifting as their horse trotted on she tried to bring herself back to reality.
“Or her.”
Ah.
Their future child.
She wasn't exactly sure what type of father her husband would be. Would he be involved in his child's life? Or would he prefer at the offspring stay with his tutors and nurse? Uther had been rather involved in the lives of the royal children although his interest had waned slightly after his wife's death.
Having thought that Arthur would follow this track, she was surprised that he was even thinking of the person they would be bringing into the world.
Even though she did not comment, he knew that she was listening.
“I know it is rather sentimental,” he said, dropping his tone so that he was not to be overheard by anyone other than her. She knew it wasn't the most becoming look for the head of the army to be gushing over his unborn child. She placed her chin upon his shoulder, listening closer.
“But I can't help thinking about them from time to time.”
She tightened her grip about his waist slightly, telling him without words that she understood him.
As the conversation dropped once he was overtaken by Sir Owen, Gwen found herself thinking about a little boy with caramel curls and a little girl with onyx hair.
One day.