The Ward 4/20
Title: The Ward 4/20
Author:tudor_rose445
Rating: Pg-13
Characters/Pairings:Arthur, Guinevere, Morgana, Uther, Igraine, Merlin, Gaius, Arthur/Guinevere, Igraine/Uther, Morgana/Merlin?.
Spoilers: Seasons 1-3
Disclaimer: I own nothing. BBC owns "Merlin".
Summary: AU. The life of Guinevere, daughter to Sir Thomas of Camelot, has seemingly changed over night. After the death of her father and brother she is sent to the court of King Uther to become his ward. There she grows amongst the two royal children, Prince Arthur and Princess Morgana. Her time with the Pendragons will have a large influence on her life, and help to shape her into the queen of legend.
Chapter 3:
An unexpected illness disrupts the royal progress, setting the scene for a life changing event.
Author’s notes: Beta-ed by the awesome Guardian Izz .
The beginning of June brought along a change with it for the three children. Upon Arthur's twelfth birthday it was decided that he was to be finally “released” from the children’s wing and move into his private chambers reserved for the heir of Camelot on the opposite side of the castle. Morgana exclaimed to all that would hear her that this change of arrangements was indeed for the best; she didn't wish to see the court ladies mooning over Arthur all the time now that he was getting closer to marriageable age. As an added bonus she was now even further away from her brother.
Gwen, for her part, was glad that she wouldn't have to hear Arthur running up and down the hall wearing his new chain mail and armor anymore. It was terribly noisy, in the quite mornings more so.
Over the two months since her arrival Guinevere and Morgana had grown closer, now sharing a companionship as if they had known each other their entire lives. Gwen no longer had to lament the fact that she didn't have a sister.
The princess on her part enjoyed spending time with her new friend and often went out of her way to 'protect' her as a 'big sister' should. Even though there was only a year’s difference between their ages Morgana felt that she was the worldlier one out of the two, thus making it her responsibility to look out for Gwen among the courtly gossips.
It was she who had explained the royal progress to Gwen.
“It takes about a month,” the princess said, glancing over at Gwen as the two were fitted for new gowns. Even though the rest of Gwen's belongings had arrived weeks earlier, the queen had decided that both girls needed a new riding dress each for that summer's journey. Igraine stood by, commenting on the cloth or the seamstress' basting from time to time. The dark haired girl raised her arm for the seamstress to wrap the cloth under her.
“We take a tour round the kingdom giving Father a chance to oversee the order in his lands. As we go along we normally stop by the estates of the feudal lords, governing over the neighbouring villages.” She frowned. “Father's never let me or Arthur come along till now. I wish we had... that way we might have already met you long ago.”
Gwen had never witnessed her estate being prepared for a royal visit. Often her father was one of the king's accompanying knights, meaning that his estate was not listed on King Uther’s route. She lamented the fact that she could have met her friend earlier had the king chosen to stop by in the bast.
The field trip seemed to be the talk of the day. At the midday meal Uther explained the route to the children after much badgering by his son. They would leave the citadel and travel west toward the border of the Summer County. They would first visit the home of Count Aldwulf before moving north to the estate of Baron Galfridus. The names and the titles soon turned into a blur for the little ward, as all she could concentrate on was the spectacular adventure that she felt was just around the corner. It was a difficult task, not to skip down the halls or jump up and down in her seat - jittery. She couldn’t conceal her excitement at vespers that evening with Igraine, but the queen was too amused by her ward's enthusiasm to scold her.
The three children waited with bated breath over the next two weeks for the much anticipated day to arrive. Gwen was woken early one morning about a week prior to their expected departure by Batilda quickly packing up her gowns. With a chill she was reminded of the almost exact situation a few months earlier. Who had died? What had happened?
But once she calmed herself she realized that there was no screaming or crying in the halls or servants rushing about like last time. She inwardly chastised herself for jumping to such conclusions. Batilda pulled her charge's new riding gown from the child's clothes-press before gesturing her to the changing screen.
Gwen frowned.
“The Queen was saving that for Progress,” she protested, nevertheless climbing out of bed to follow the older woman.
“And it would be fitting, as you are leaving on Progress today, dear Gwen” the nurse countered, chuckling in a somewhat forced manner. Too tired to pick up on the hidden paranoia in the woman's tone, Gwen reluctantly allowed herself to be laced into the gown. The nurse first pulled a fresh, white shift over her charge's head before helping her into a dark blue surcoat. This was then laced across Gwen's chest and finished off with a small bow.
It wasn't the most elaborate gown out of Gwen's wardrobe, but the queen had insisted that neither Gwen nor Morgana wore their best gowns when riding. The roads were much too dry this time of year, and the dust flying through the air would only damage the fabric. She quickly ate a slice of bread and cheese to break her fast as Batilda braided her hair. Batilda would give no reason as to why the progress was suddenly pushed forward except that the king had willed it.
Nearly twenty minutes later the pair appeared in the courtyard, followed by two servants carrying a trunk of Gwen's things. Morgana, looking rather bleary eyed, was already mounted on her own horse. Gwen craned her neck to spot the queen, but did not catch sight of Igraine or Uther.
“Do you need help?”
Gwen blinked a few times, realizing that Arthur was speaking to her. He looked rather pale, but she supposed that this rather early hour was to blame. She nodded, watching as one of the grooms brought over her gray mare. Arthur held the horse steady as he cupped his hand. Gwen reached up, placing one slender hand on each end of the saddle. She placed one foot into Arthur's proffered hands before balancing herself as he raised her up. Once settled she looked down at the boy, noticing again how tired he seemed.
“Thank you,” she said, a little surprised by his actions. He had never been outright mean to her, but he had never gone out of his way to show gentile kindness with her either. The prince nodded absentmindedly before patting her mare's neck.
“You,” he said, catching the attention of the stable boy holding his own horse. The prince moved on to his own steed, reaching to adjust the stirrups.
Suddenly he yelped, catching Gwen and Morgana's attention as he angrily rubbed at his elbow.
“Bloody horse,” he murmured, glaring at the animal before inspecting his now chewed-on sleeve.
“There are ladies present, Arthur,” admonished his mother as she strode into the courtyard. Her husband was not far behind her and personally helped his wife into the saddle before leading the group over the drawbridge.
The lower town was still quiet at this unsightly hour of the morning. The only sound that could be heard was the creaking of the supply carts and the clopping of the horses' hooves against the ground. Gwen glanced behind her horse at the group bringing up the rear of the small party. Batilda, no doubt somewhere among the dozen or so servants trailing behind with the supplies. On every side of the party a knight clad in the arms of Camelot rode alongside the group. She knew traveling was not the safest event, and was glad for the armed men that rode with them.
To her surprise the king set them off at a rather fast pace. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy it, but she did wonder as for the cause. Wasn't this supposed to be a trip of leisure? She would have thought that they would have gone rather slow, especially now that they had left days early. Morgana looked just as puzzled by this yet both girls knew better than to question either the king or queen about it.
The party had covered a substantial amount of ground by the time they stopped around midday. Gregory, now part of Uther's vast guard, was there to assist her off of her horse. Out of all of her father's staff the only two people to be absorbed into Uther's household had been Gregory and Batilda. The nurse was chosen because of her connection to the young ward, while Gregory had proved his courage and loyalty for his deceased master by escorting his only living child into safety.
She smiled slightly at the familiar face before following the queen and Morgana, hand in hand. The servants were unpacking provisions for the midday meal while Igraine led both girls over to a boulder not too far from their little camp. A servant spread a thick blanket on the grassy floor to allow the two young girls to sit at Igraine's feet.
“As we were not able to hear mass this morning, we shall read additional passages today to make up for it,” the woman explained to the two girls. “Just because we are on road doesn't mean that we shall shirk your lessons ladies.” Both girls hid their disappointment and instead readied themselves to listen to the woman next to them as she turned her gentle gaze onto Gwen.
“Would you please retrieve my Bible from my saddlebag, Guinevere?”
The girl curtsied carefully, nodding before winding her way between servants and knights to the cluster of horses. She picked out the queen's mare easily before unlatching the leather tooled bag. A pair of servants currently loosening the girths of the nearby steeds were whispering back and forth and, try as she might, it was difficult to ignore them.
“Sick as a dog,” the nearest said quietly, shaking his head forlornly. “Lad couldn't even stand up. I've never seen a man so ill in my life.” He looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was near, causing Gwen to step a bit further back - the queens mare blocking her from his vision.
“And the swelling!” She heard the exhale of his fellow man. “He was dead within the week.”
She shuddered even though she didn't know the exact context of their conversation.
“I heard they've already closed Ectorial to any travelers. Me and Percy just got out in time.”
Gwen peeped under the neck of the mare to sneak a glance at the two men.
“The King didn't find out too long after I 'spect. No wonder we basically tore out of the citadel at dawn.” The man's voice grew cynical. “As if you can run from the Plague.”
Gwen's head darted back behind the horse as she repeated the word in her mind. The Plague? Her delicate hands fumbled with the small latch on the saddle bag. She had heard of the disease but had thankfully never seen it firsthand. To see it is to risk contamination; the two men should be lucky that they got away with their lives.
She fished the book out of the bag before latching it back. Eager to put such worrying thoughts behind her she took off at a rather fast, unladylike stride to reach the queen, who gave her a slightly perplexed glance as to why Gwen had taken so long, but didn't comment on her ward's behavior before starting that day's lessons.
0o0o0o0
After stopping at Sir Aldwulf's estate for three days the party took off again. Both young girls found the first stop on their supposedly exciting trip to be rather boring. Sir Aldwulf looked as old as the bishop that presided over mass back in the royal chapel, and his equally elderly wife had no patience for anyone under the age of thirty. Arthur had gotten rather good at imitating the woman's grating voice and delighted in sneaking up behind Guinevere admonishing her much like the elderly lady. Morgana found this rather amusing, unlike Gwen. Not only did Arthur cause her to jump every single time he performed his mime, but some of the knights had caught onto his new found talent and laughed whenever he did it. It made Gwen's face burn to hear the men laughing. Though it wasn't necessarily at her and was due something that was done to her, it hurt just the same as if they had been teasing her.
The morning that they departed from the elderly couple's estate was the first sunny day since their arrival. The earth felt springy against her boots as she was helped down from her horse that evening. After pausing to speak to Batilda, she moved to follow Igraine and Morgana to tidy themselves up before their meal.
Servants were carefully constructing billowing tents for the party to sleep in.
“Stand up straight girl! You've got the posture of a milkmaid!” Gwen flinched at the creaky voice coming from just behind her right ear.
The prince's laughter seemed to reverberate in her head as he fell into step beside her.
“You'd think you would be able to expect that by now,” he teased, stepping in front of her to halt his victim. He seemed rather pleased with his imitation of the older lady.
Gwen stopped short to avoid crashing into him. Didn't he have something better to do? Knowing that the best thing to do was to ignore him, the girl chose to step aside, past him.
Yet again the arrogant prince placed himself in her path.
“I'm speaking to you, Guinevere,” he said, drawing out her name. He, along with Morgana, most often addressed her by 'Gwen' when in informal company. The use of her full name, and in such a tone, visibly surprised her.
He laughed at the emotion flicking across her face. “I know full well that you know how to speak,” he chided her. “Your Prince commands you.” He stood up a bit taller, fixing her with a rather haughty look.
Gwen rolled her eyes before brushing her shoulder against him in an attempt to get him to move. He narrowed his eyes before pushing her back with his own.
“Move,” she ordered, locking eyes with him. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, sending out a clear message that he wasn't going to budge. His haughty expression was soon wiped off his face as he quickly shuffled his feet to keep himself upright. Both of them looked down, focusing on Gwen's extended arms, still frozen from where she had pushed him. He curled his lip before reaching forward to push her right back.
Stumbling, the girl landed on her rear on the mushy ground.
The prince started to laugh, attracting attention from the servants just finishing with the tents. Feeling her face turn bright red from his ridicule Gwen lunged forward, tackling the prince down with her. The two landed back in the mud with Gwen pummeling her fists against his chest. Had she been thinking rationally she would have pondered why Arthur had been so easy to tackle; he was a trained fighter; a lunge from an eight year old shouldn't have taken him down.
His hands felt clammy as they wrapped around her petite wrists in an effort to stop her. He rolled them over as the two struggled.
“Arthur! Guinevere!”
The two froze, looking up at Igraine with wide eyes. A small audience was now conspicuously watching the admonishment of the children.
“Consider yourselves lucky that it was I and not The King who witnessed your intolerable behavior,” the queen chided, staring at each child in turn. The two now looked anywhere but the queen's face, unable to face their shame.
“I think it best that you both retire to your quarters for the evening while I consider your punishment.”
Gwen felt herself pale. Punishment? Father had tapped her once or twice when she had been younger and done something to upset him. But out of the two children Elyan was more prone to being disciplined. Panic ran through her. Would the queen order her to be beaten? Her father had been tolerant toward her but she knew that administering a switch on an errant child was common enough.
With tear filled eyes Gwen picked herself off of the muddy ground.
She hurried to her tent, passing by a concerned looking Morgana, before closing the flap behind herself. She looked up in alarm as someone entered the tent, fully expecting the queen to be there with a switch. But instead Batilda entered with a small bucket of water and a rag.
Settling herself down on her cot the girl allowed her nurse to help her wipe away the remains of the mud.
“He...he's so mean!” she whispered, finding her throat tight with unshed tears. “Why can't he just leave me alone?” She closed her eyes tightly as the older woman bathed her face.
“Hush now love,” the nurse said gently, frowning as she wrung out the rag. “You have to make yourself presentable for the queen.”
The switch loomed in the forefront of her mind as she waited for the queen to arrive. The woman, managing to still look regal even though they were in the middle of a field, surveyed the girl before her.
“Leave us,” she said, focusing on Gwen without even glancing at Batilda. The nurse quickly curtsied before ducking out of the tent.
Gwen held her breath as the woman neared her, finally feeling a few tears slip from her eyes.
“Milady, I am terribly sorry. I will do whatever you feel is right in response to my misbehavior but please, do not use a switch!”
Gwen found her throat tight with a buildup of tears, causing her voice to sound rather garbled.
The woman sighed before taking up Batilda's discarded rag to finish cleaning off Gwen. Neither spoke for a few moments until the queen finished.
“No one is going to be beaten,” she reassured her ward, going over to the girl's trunk of clothing. She extracted another dress before gesturing for Gwen to strand. The queen unlaced her charge from her soiled gown before helping her into a fresh one.
“There will be a punishment, however. Both you and Arthur know better than to fight like urchins.” The woman frowned lightly. “Neither of you will be allowed to join the banquets for the rest of the trip. If you can't behave properly in each others company, then you will not have the chance among The King's nobles.”
Gwen nodded, feeling a sigh of relief escape her. She could handle that.
The queen placed herself on the cot before helping Gwen climb into her lap. She drew the girl close to her, allowing Gwen to rest her head on her shoulder.
“I know that Arthur provoked you,” the queen began, gently brushing down Gwen's curls with one of her soft hands. “I've already spoken to him.” She sighed, turning Gwen's face so that the two could see each other.
“He truly is a good boy, dear. He'll be a good man....a good king, someday. You mustn't take his behavior seriously. This period of his life is very crucial; he needs to prove himself so that his father can knight him. Neither of us as women can understand such a privilege, but I know it means the world to him to be acknowledged such by Uther.”
The queen gently set Gwen back on her feet before rising to stand.
“I would like you both to apologize to each other before the night ends. Can you please do that for me, Guinevere?”
The girl nodded quickly.
“For you milady, anything. Th-thank you.”
She looked up hopefully to the woman who had become her role model, finding to her delight that the queen had bestowed a soft smile upon her. She ducked out of the tent, leaving Gwen alone.
Gwen remained alone in the tent for nearly a half an hour before a curious Morgana entered to question her friend on what had happened. The girl refused to elaborate on the incident and the disgruntled princess left her shortly afterward. Gwen placed herself on her cot, turning away from Morgana's empty one beside her.
The queen had asked her and Arthur to apologize to each other before the end of the night, yet he had not yet approached her. Should she make the first move? She knew, rather stubbornly, that she shouldn't be the first one to apologize. After all, Arthur had been the one to rile her up. Yet she knew that if she made the first move Igraine would appreciate her attempts at peacemaking. To make the queen proud was a wish she held dear to her heart so, after mentally prepping herself, the young girl exited her tent.
With downcast eyes she approached the prince's tent before speaking up.
“Arthur? Are you there?” She hesitated. “I, er… I wanted to speak to you.”
She gained no response. Was he not there? She hadn't seen him around the fire where many members of the group were positioning themselves for that night's meal.
Carefully she lifted up the flap of the tent before entering.
Her eyes instantly drifted to the prince's cot, only to find it empty. She moved to exit before nearly tripping on something. Thinking it a discarded piece of clothing she tried to brush it aside with her boot. Glancing down she saw that it was not, in fact, a piece of cloth, but Arthur's hand. The blond boy lay prone on the floor, a thick sweat breaking out over his forehead.
A shrill scream reverberated in her head as she stared down at the boy, unable to move.
Who was screaming? Why wouldn't they stop?
It was only when Arthur's valet entered and began to shake her by the shoulders that she realized she had been the one screaming at the seemingly dead prince.
Author:tudor_rose445
Rating: Pg-13
Characters/Pairings:Arthur, Guinevere, Morgana, Uther, Igraine, Merlin, Gaius, Arthur/Guinevere, Igraine/Uther, Morgana/Merlin?.
Spoilers: Seasons 1-3
Disclaimer: I own nothing. BBC owns "Merlin".
Summary: AU. The life of Guinevere, daughter to Sir Thomas of Camelot, has seemingly changed over night. After the death of her father and brother she is sent to the court of King Uther to become his ward. There she grows amongst the two royal children, Prince Arthur and Princess Morgana. Her time with the Pendragons will have a large influence on her life, and help to shape her into the queen of legend.
Chapter 3:
An unexpected illness disrupts the royal progress, setting the scene for a life changing event.
Author’s notes: Beta-ed by the awesome Guardian Izz .
The beginning of June brought along a change with it for the three children. Upon Arthur's twelfth birthday it was decided that he was to be finally “released” from the children’s wing and move into his private chambers reserved for the heir of Camelot on the opposite side of the castle. Morgana exclaimed to all that would hear her that this change of arrangements was indeed for the best; she didn't wish to see the court ladies mooning over Arthur all the time now that he was getting closer to marriageable age. As an added bonus she was now even further away from her brother.
Gwen, for her part, was glad that she wouldn't have to hear Arthur running up and down the hall wearing his new chain mail and armor anymore. It was terribly noisy, in the quite mornings more so.
Over the two months since her arrival Guinevere and Morgana had grown closer, now sharing a companionship as if they had known each other their entire lives. Gwen no longer had to lament the fact that she didn't have a sister.
The princess on her part enjoyed spending time with her new friend and often went out of her way to 'protect' her as a 'big sister' should. Even though there was only a year’s difference between their ages Morgana felt that she was the worldlier one out of the two, thus making it her responsibility to look out for Gwen among the courtly gossips.
It was she who had explained the royal progress to Gwen.
“It takes about a month,” the princess said, glancing over at Gwen as the two were fitted for new gowns. Even though the rest of Gwen's belongings had arrived weeks earlier, the queen had decided that both girls needed a new riding dress each for that summer's journey. Igraine stood by, commenting on the cloth or the seamstress' basting from time to time. The dark haired girl raised her arm for the seamstress to wrap the cloth under her.
“We take a tour round the kingdom giving Father a chance to oversee the order in his lands. As we go along we normally stop by the estates of the feudal lords, governing over the neighbouring villages.” She frowned. “Father's never let me or Arthur come along till now. I wish we had... that way we might have already met you long ago.”
Gwen had never witnessed her estate being prepared for a royal visit. Often her father was one of the king's accompanying knights, meaning that his estate was not listed on King Uther’s route. She lamented the fact that she could have met her friend earlier had the king chosen to stop by in the bast.
The field trip seemed to be the talk of the day. At the midday meal Uther explained the route to the children after much badgering by his son. They would leave the citadel and travel west toward the border of the Summer County. They would first visit the home of Count Aldwulf before moving north to the estate of Baron Galfridus. The names and the titles soon turned into a blur for the little ward, as all she could concentrate on was the spectacular adventure that she felt was just around the corner. It was a difficult task, not to skip down the halls or jump up and down in her seat - jittery. She couldn’t conceal her excitement at vespers that evening with Igraine, but the queen was too amused by her ward's enthusiasm to scold her.
The three children waited with bated breath over the next two weeks for the much anticipated day to arrive. Gwen was woken early one morning about a week prior to their expected departure by Batilda quickly packing up her gowns. With a chill she was reminded of the almost exact situation a few months earlier. Who had died? What had happened?
But once she calmed herself she realized that there was no screaming or crying in the halls or servants rushing about like last time. She inwardly chastised herself for jumping to such conclusions. Batilda pulled her charge's new riding gown from the child's clothes-press before gesturing her to the changing screen.
Gwen frowned.
“The Queen was saving that for Progress,” she protested, nevertheless climbing out of bed to follow the older woman.
“And it would be fitting, as you are leaving on Progress today, dear Gwen” the nurse countered, chuckling in a somewhat forced manner. Too tired to pick up on the hidden paranoia in the woman's tone, Gwen reluctantly allowed herself to be laced into the gown. The nurse first pulled a fresh, white shift over her charge's head before helping her into a dark blue surcoat. This was then laced across Gwen's chest and finished off with a small bow.
It wasn't the most elaborate gown out of Gwen's wardrobe, but the queen had insisted that neither Gwen nor Morgana wore their best gowns when riding. The roads were much too dry this time of year, and the dust flying through the air would only damage the fabric. She quickly ate a slice of bread and cheese to break her fast as Batilda braided her hair. Batilda would give no reason as to why the progress was suddenly pushed forward except that the king had willed it.
Nearly twenty minutes later the pair appeared in the courtyard, followed by two servants carrying a trunk of Gwen's things. Morgana, looking rather bleary eyed, was already mounted on her own horse. Gwen craned her neck to spot the queen, but did not catch sight of Igraine or Uther.
“Do you need help?”
Gwen blinked a few times, realizing that Arthur was speaking to her. He looked rather pale, but she supposed that this rather early hour was to blame. She nodded, watching as one of the grooms brought over her gray mare. Arthur held the horse steady as he cupped his hand. Gwen reached up, placing one slender hand on each end of the saddle. She placed one foot into Arthur's proffered hands before balancing herself as he raised her up. Once settled she looked down at the boy, noticing again how tired he seemed.
“Thank you,” she said, a little surprised by his actions. He had never been outright mean to her, but he had never gone out of his way to show gentile kindness with her either. The prince nodded absentmindedly before patting her mare's neck.
“You,” he said, catching the attention of the stable boy holding his own horse. The prince moved on to his own steed, reaching to adjust the stirrups.
Suddenly he yelped, catching Gwen and Morgana's attention as he angrily rubbed at his elbow.
“Bloody horse,” he murmured, glaring at the animal before inspecting his now chewed-on sleeve.
“There are ladies present, Arthur,” admonished his mother as she strode into the courtyard. Her husband was not far behind her and personally helped his wife into the saddle before leading the group over the drawbridge.
The lower town was still quiet at this unsightly hour of the morning. The only sound that could be heard was the creaking of the supply carts and the clopping of the horses' hooves against the ground. Gwen glanced behind her horse at the group bringing up the rear of the small party. Batilda, no doubt somewhere among the dozen or so servants trailing behind with the supplies. On every side of the party a knight clad in the arms of Camelot rode alongside the group. She knew traveling was not the safest event, and was glad for the armed men that rode with them.
To her surprise the king set them off at a rather fast pace. It wasn't that she didn't enjoy it, but she did wonder as for the cause. Wasn't this supposed to be a trip of leisure? She would have thought that they would have gone rather slow, especially now that they had left days early. Morgana looked just as puzzled by this yet both girls knew better than to question either the king or queen about it.
The party had covered a substantial amount of ground by the time they stopped around midday. Gregory, now part of Uther's vast guard, was there to assist her off of her horse. Out of all of her father's staff the only two people to be absorbed into Uther's household had been Gregory and Batilda. The nurse was chosen because of her connection to the young ward, while Gregory had proved his courage and loyalty for his deceased master by escorting his only living child into safety.
She smiled slightly at the familiar face before following the queen and Morgana, hand in hand. The servants were unpacking provisions for the midday meal while Igraine led both girls over to a boulder not too far from their little camp. A servant spread a thick blanket on the grassy floor to allow the two young girls to sit at Igraine's feet.
“As we were not able to hear mass this morning, we shall read additional passages today to make up for it,” the woman explained to the two girls. “Just because we are on road doesn't mean that we shall shirk your lessons ladies.” Both girls hid their disappointment and instead readied themselves to listen to the woman next to them as she turned her gentle gaze onto Gwen.
“Would you please retrieve my Bible from my saddlebag, Guinevere?”
The girl curtsied carefully, nodding before winding her way between servants and knights to the cluster of horses. She picked out the queen's mare easily before unlatching the leather tooled bag. A pair of servants currently loosening the girths of the nearby steeds were whispering back and forth and, try as she might, it was difficult to ignore them.
“Sick as a dog,” the nearest said quietly, shaking his head forlornly. “Lad couldn't even stand up. I've never seen a man so ill in my life.” He looked over his shoulder to see if anyone was near, causing Gwen to step a bit further back - the queens mare blocking her from his vision.
“And the swelling!” She heard the exhale of his fellow man. “He was dead within the week.”
She shuddered even though she didn't know the exact context of their conversation.
“I heard they've already closed Ectorial to any travelers. Me and Percy just got out in time.”
Gwen peeped under the neck of the mare to sneak a glance at the two men.
“The King didn't find out too long after I 'spect. No wonder we basically tore out of the citadel at dawn.” The man's voice grew cynical. “As if you can run from the Plague.”
Gwen's head darted back behind the horse as she repeated the word in her mind. The Plague? Her delicate hands fumbled with the small latch on the saddle bag. She had heard of the disease but had thankfully never seen it firsthand. To see it is to risk contamination; the two men should be lucky that they got away with their lives.
She fished the book out of the bag before latching it back. Eager to put such worrying thoughts behind her she took off at a rather fast, unladylike stride to reach the queen, who gave her a slightly perplexed glance as to why Gwen had taken so long, but didn't comment on her ward's behavior before starting that day's lessons.
0o0o0o0
After stopping at Sir Aldwulf's estate for three days the party took off again. Both young girls found the first stop on their supposedly exciting trip to be rather boring. Sir Aldwulf looked as old as the bishop that presided over mass back in the royal chapel, and his equally elderly wife had no patience for anyone under the age of thirty. Arthur had gotten rather good at imitating the woman's grating voice and delighted in sneaking up behind Guinevere admonishing her much like the elderly lady. Morgana found this rather amusing, unlike Gwen. Not only did Arthur cause her to jump every single time he performed his mime, but some of the knights had caught onto his new found talent and laughed whenever he did it. It made Gwen's face burn to hear the men laughing. Though it wasn't necessarily at her and was due something that was done to her, it hurt just the same as if they had been teasing her.
The morning that they departed from the elderly couple's estate was the first sunny day since their arrival. The earth felt springy against her boots as she was helped down from her horse that evening. After pausing to speak to Batilda, she moved to follow Igraine and Morgana to tidy themselves up before their meal.
Servants were carefully constructing billowing tents for the party to sleep in.
“Stand up straight girl! You've got the posture of a milkmaid!” Gwen flinched at the creaky voice coming from just behind her right ear.
The prince's laughter seemed to reverberate in her head as he fell into step beside her.
“You'd think you would be able to expect that by now,” he teased, stepping in front of her to halt his victim. He seemed rather pleased with his imitation of the older lady.
Gwen stopped short to avoid crashing into him. Didn't he have something better to do? Knowing that the best thing to do was to ignore him, the girl chose to step aside, past him.
Yet again the arrogant prince placed himself in her path.
“I'm speaking to you, Guinevere,” he said, drawing out her name. He, along with Morgana, most often addressed her by 'Gwen' when in informal company. The use of her full name, and in such a tone, visibly surprised her.
He laughed at the emotion flicking across her face. “I know full well that you know how to speak,” he chided her. “Your Prince commands you.” He stood up a bit taller, fixing her with a rather haughty look.
Gwen rolled her eyes before brushing her shoulder against him in an attempt to get him to move. He narrowed his eyes before pushing her back with his own.
“Move,” she ordered, locking eyes with him. He crossed his arms in front of his chest, sending out a clear message that he wasn't going to budge. His haughty expression was soon wiped off his face as he quickly shuffled his feet to keep himself upright. Both of them looked down, focusing on Gwen's extended arms, still frozen from where she had pushed him. He curled his lip before reaching forward to push her right back.
Stumbling, the girl landed on her rear on the mushy ground.
The prince started to laugh, attracting attention from the servants just finishing with the tents. Feeling her face turn bright red from his ridicule Gwen lunged forward, tackling the prince down with her. The two landed back in the mud with Gwen pummeling her fists against his chest. Had she been thinking rationally she would have pondered why Arthur had been so easy to tackle; he was a trained fighter; a lunge from an eight year old shouldn't have taken him down.
His hands felt clammy as they wrapped around her petite wrists in an effort to stop her. He rolled them over as the two struggled.
“Arthur! Guinevere!”
The two froze, looking up at Igraine with wide eyes. A small audience was now conspicuously watching the admonishment of the children.
“Consider yourselves lucky that it was I and not The King who witnessed your intolerable behavior,” the queen chided, staring at each child in turn. The two now looked anywhere but the queen's face, unable to face their shame.
“I think it best that you both retire to your quarters for the evening while I consider your punishment.”
Gwen felt herself pale. Punishment? Father had tapped her once or twice when she had been younger and done something to upset him. But out of the two children Elyan was more prone to being disciplined. Panic ran through her. Would the queen order her to be beaten? Her father had been tolerant toward her but she knew that administering a switch on an errant child was common enough.
With tear filled eyes Gwen picked herself off of the muddy ground.
She hurried to her tent, passing by a concerned looking Morgana, before closing the flap behind herself. She looked up in alarm as someone entered the tent, fully expecting the queen to be there with a switch. But instead Batilda entered with a small bucket of water and a rag.
Settling herself down on her cot the girl allowed her nurse to help her wipe away the remains of the mud.
“He...he's so mean!” she whispered, finding her throat tight with unshed tears. “Why can't he just leave me alone?” She closed her eyes tightly as the older woman bathed her face.
“Hush now love,” the nurse said gently, frowning as she wrung out the rag. “You have to make yourself presentable for the queen.”
The switch loomed in the forefront of her mind as she waited for the queen to arrive. The woman, managing to still look regal even though they were in the middle of a field, surveyed the girl before her.
“Leave us,” she said, focusing on Gwen without even glancing at Batilda. The nurse quickly curtsied before ducking out of the tent.
Gwen held her breath as the woman neared her, finally feeling a few tears slip from her eyes.
“Milady, I am terribly sorry. I will do whatever you feel is right in response to my misbehavior but please, do not use a switch!”
Gwen found her throat tight with a buildup of tears, causing her voice to sound rather garbled.
The woman sighed before taking up Batilda's discarded rag to finish cleaning off Gwen. Neither spoke for a few moments until the queen finished.
“No one is going to be beaten,” she reassured her ward, going over to the girl's trunk of clothing. She extracted another dress before gesturing for Gwen to strand. The queen unlaced her charge from her soiled gown before helping her into a fresh one.
“There will be a punishment, however. Both you and Arthur know better than to fight like urchins.” The woman frowned lightly. “Neither of you will be allowed to join the banquets for the rest of the trip. If you can't behave properly in each others company, then you will not have the chance among The King's nobles.”
Gwen nodded, feeling a sigh of relief escape her. She could handle that.
The queen placed herself on the cot before helping Gwen climb into her lap. She drew the girl close to her, allowing Gwen to rest her head on her shoulder.
“I know that Arthur provoked you,” the queen began, gently brushing down Gwen's curls with one of her soft hands. “I've already spoken to him.” She sighed, turning Gwen's face so that the two could see each other.
“He truly is a good boy, dear. He'll be a good man....a good king, someday. You mustn't take his behavior seriously. This period of his life is very crucial; he needs to prove himself so that his father can knight him. Neither of us as women can understand such a privilege, but I know it means the world to him to be acknowledged such by Uther.”
The queen gently set Gwen back on her feet before rising to stand.
“I would like you both to apologize to each other before the night ends. Can you please do that for me, Guinevere?”
The girl nodded quickly.
“For you milady, anything. Th-thank you.”
She looked up hopefully to the woman who had become her role model, finding to her delight that the queen had bestowed a soft smile upon her. She ducked out of the tent, leaving Gwen alone.
Gwen remained alone in the tent for nearly a half an hour before a curious Morgana entered to question her friend on what had happened. The girl refused to elaborate on the incident and the disgruntled princess left her shortly afterward. Gwen placed herself on her cot, turning away from Morgana's empty one beside her.
The queen had asked her and Arthur to apologize to each other before the end of the night, yet he had not yet approached her. Should she make the first move? She knew, rather stubbornly, that she shouldn't be the first one to apologize. After all, Arthur had been the one to rile her up. Yet she knew that if she made the first move Igraine would appreciate her attempts at peacemaking. To make the queen proud was a wish she held dear to her heart so, after mentally prepping herself, the young girl exited her tent.
With downcast eyes she approached the prince's tent before speaking up.
“Arthur? Are you there?” She hesitated. “I, er… I wanted to speak to you.”
She gained no response. Was he not there? She hadn't seen him around the fire where many members of the group were positioning themselves for that night's meal.
Carefully she lifted up the flap of the tent before entering.
Her eyes instantly drifted to the prince's cot, only to find it empty. She moved to exit before nearly tripping on something. Thinking it a discarded piece of clothing she tried to brush it aside with her boot. Glancing down she saw that it was not, in fact, a piece of cloth, but Arthur's hand. The blond boy lay prone on the floor, a thick sweat breaking out over his forehead.
A shrill scream reverberated in her head as she stared down at the boy, unable to move.
Who was screaming? Why wouldn't they stop?
It was only when Arthur's valet entered and began to shake her by the shoulders that she realized she had been the one screaming at the seemingly dead prince.