The Ward 5/20
Title: The Ward 5/20
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 4:
The death of one of Camelot's beloved sends the kingdom into The Great Purge.
Author’s notes: Beta-ed by the awesome Guardian Izz .
The ride back to the citadel felt like a funeral procession, despite the fact that the prince was still breathing. All thoughts of Summer Progress were wiped clean from everyone of the party's minds as they each tried to comprehend that the dreaded Plague had made itself known in their group. Gaius had been at work on Arthur ever since Gwen's screams had alerted the camp to his illness. The prince was put in an empty cart with canvas covering all four sides. The only ones allowed in the 'sick wagon' was the physician and the boy's parents. All three wore swatches of cloth around their nose and mouth whenever they entered the wagon. It was suggested by Gaius that the cloth would protect its user from catching the virus, although many of the servants scoffed at the very idea behind the man's back.
It wasn't until Arthur's valet, who Gwen recognized to be the man whispering to his friend about The Plague, dropped dead a day later that Uther and Igraine thought it best to send both Morgana and Gwen ahead to the castle. The children were escorted by Sir Leon and Gregory and set a breakneck course for Camelot. Both girls barely spoke the entire journey back, too afraid to voice their fears for Arthur's life.
It wasn't until the two were back at the castle's chapel, kneeling in prayer that Gwen realized that Arthur might actually die. It seemed unrealistic; he was so young. Yet Elyan hadn't been much older and he had perished. Tears stung her eyes as she bent her head closer to her clasped hands. Arthur shouldn't have to suffer the same fate as her brother.
In certain ways the boy reminded her of her brother. They were both bossy for one thing, and both were obsessed with the very idea of knighthood. Arthur did look out for her on occasion much like Elyan had done. As much as Morgana was like a sister to her, Arthur was just as much like a brother. To see him die, even after he was mean to her, tore at her very heart. He was supposed to grow up, make friends and rivals, chase after girls, maybe find one day meet a princess of his own and fall in love with her; Gwen was supposed to witness his wedding and then be invited to his coronation.
Both girls spent most of their days cloistered up with the bishop and the rest of the court that had followed their return to Camelot. The people of the lower town gathered outside of the castle in the courtyard each night with candles, and were soon joined by some from the outlying villages. It wasn't until the rest of the royal family arrived with the deathly pale Arthur did the people begin keeping their vigil even during the daylight hours.
Neither girl was allowed into Arthur's chambers in fear that they would contract the disease. Instead they were kept secluded on the other side of the palace. It was there that the two continued to pray for the life of the boy, who more often than not riled them to frustration, yet neither could live without.
0o0o0o
Uther hadn't seen this day coming. The king rested a hand on his son's forehead, feeling his chest wrench with pain to see his eldest suffer so. His wife, normally so refined and poised, muffled her continuous tears against a handkerchief. The black swellings against the prince's skin were the focus of Uther's gaze as he allowed his mind to go numb.
“Sire?”
He reluctantly tore his eyes from his boy to Gaius. The physician had been working tirelessly to save his son but despite his efforts, there was little change in the boy. He took in the exhausted expression on the elderly man's face and once again counted himself lucky that Gaius was such a dedicated man.
“I fear the prince has little time left,” came his verdict. “As you can see,” he continued, “the swelling has increased since the past night. The next stage isn't that far off.”
They both knew better than to utter the very last stage.
Death.
Uther placed his hand on his wife's shoulder, nodding toward Gaius to lead her out. Once the physician returned he found the king holding his son's hand in both of his own.
“He must be healed,” he said, his voice firmer sounding then it had been in days. “He's my child....my boy.” He turned tear filled eyes, eyes that he would never allow his subjects to see, toward his longtime friend.
“Have a party sent to Avalon. Send for The Lady of The Lake.”
0o0o0o
The court was all a whisper about the sudden arrival of The Lady. Nimueh was known far and wide as the most powerful sorceress of all of Albion. Some believed her to be a fable, drawn together by other sorcerers. Others thought she truly was real, but held none of the power described of her. Both parties gathered in the great hall the evening of her arrival to see for themselves who this mysterious woman was.
The dark haired woman entered the hall without an announcement, startling the nobles around her. A path quickly formed itself for the woman swathed in white as she made her way to the enthroned king and queen. Gwen peeped out from behind Batilda's skirts at the mysterious woman having, prior to this moment, thought that she was a fable. The woman paused before the royal couple, graciously bowing at the waist.
The once whispering room fell to a hush.
“Your Majesties,” Nimueh addressed the pair, finally raising her radiantly blue eyes to regard them both. They were beautiful, but cold.
Uther stood up quickly while Igraine remained seated, unsure of what to think of the enchantress. It had been rumoured that the queen had not been notified about her husband's request for Nimueh. Guinevere craned her neck to catch the introduction of the sorceress. She could see out of the corner of her eye that Morgana was practically pushing her own nurse out of the way in order to see.
“My lady,” Uther began, bowing at the waist before her. “On behalf of myself and the queen, you are most welcome here.” His eyes, still retaining the coldness of the past few days, dragged across the assembled crowd. “We all welcome you here.”
The king's tone left no room for argument about Nimueh's skills or legitimacy.
The woman inclined her head slightly in thanks.
“I've heard of your plight,” she explained, drawing attention to the leather bag at her waist. Gwen's eyes flicked to the bag that, up until this moment, had not even registered to her. Had it been there the entire time? By the looks given by the king and queen, the bag had not been there at all.
“You've asked for my help, and I will provide it for you.”
A small gasp escaped the queen, startling the assembled crowd. Even throughout her son's illness the woman had kept her facade of serenity up in public. But all thoughts of remaining calm for the public were erased as she suddenly stood.
“You will help us, then? You will save Arthur.”
Nimueh nodded solemnly.
“Take me to him lest we are too late.”
Without direction Gaius stepped forward, bowing to The Lady before gesturing to the corridor. Both the king and queen hurriedly followed the pair, leaving the rest of the court to whispering among themselves.
Gwen sighed, more gossip…
0o0o0o
“Here, milady,” Gaius gestured toward the prone figure resting upon the four poster bed. Nimueh observed the boy without speaking, carefully running a hand over his face. Igraine moved forward as if to defend him, although she was held back by her husband's hand on her shoulder.
“I've arrived just in time,” the woman explained, not even looking at the other three as she procured a large, silver goblet from her bag. Following the goblet came a flask of some time of liquid. The flask, although rather small, wouldn't have fit in the bag; it made no sense that the goblet had managed to be held in it too.
She poised her hand to pour the now uncorked flask into the goblet. Yet her hand froze before the liquid had a chance to spill into the cup.
She turned her head slightly to address the three.
“You must understand: this is The Cup of Life. It will heal your son, but another's life will be taken to fill it. A life for a life. Do you understand?”
Her hand lower slightly.
“Are you willing to have another's death on your mind?”
Igraine, if able to, seemed even more pale at this revelation.
“Uther....we-”
She was cut off by her husband's nod of approval.
“Go ahead, milady.”
With a look split between horror and relief Igraine fixed her eyes upon the sorceress. Nimueh poured the clear liquid into the goblet before whispering an incantation. She lowered her eyes to the barely breathing boy before tilting the goblet toward Arthur's lips. Gaius moved forward to raise Arthur's head to the goblet.
Slowly Nimueh poured it into the prince's mouth, watching as it slid down his throat. She withheld the cup after a moment before replacing it into her pouch. With a sputter Arthur's eyes flew open. He coughed once or twice, raising a shaking hand to his throat. He squinted in the dim lighting to find his parents and Gaius staring at him.
“What...what's happening?” Arthur asked, his voice sounding rough and dry after not being used for so long.
With a sob Igraine embraced her son, raining kisses across his forehead and cheeks. Arthur gave his mother a confused look while looking toward his father for an explanation.
“You were sick Arthur....The Lady-” He turned to gesture to Nimueh, only to find her no longer in the room. Gaius frowned suspiciously before leaving the room, returning a moment later to tell the king that the guard posted at the door had seen no one leave.
“My boy,” Igraine whispered, refusing to let go of her son despite Arthur's look of bewilderment.
0o0o0o
The feast to celebrate Arthur's recovery was held a day after Nimueh's appearance. Thunderous applause the likes that Gwen had never heard echoed around the great hall as the prince was led in. He still looked rather pale although Gaius had assured her that he would make a full recovery. She had taken more of an interest in Gaius' work over the course of Arthur's illness. Medicine and it's possibilities interested her greatly. The elderly physician was quite pleased that the young girl was so interested in his work and welcomed her requests to observe and aid him.
She often thought that had she been able to meet either of her grandfathers, she would have liked them to be like Gaius.
She noticed that Morgana fairly bounced in her seat for the entire meal. Her friend was a very exuberant person, and she knew that the past few solemn days had been hard for her. Now that everyone was cheerful again it seemed that she was trying to make up for lost time. As soon as the music struck up she almost pounced on her father's arm to request a dance with him. Gwen watched the pair move along the line of nobles as they performed various turns and foot movements before glancing down the table at the fair haired boy to her right.
There seemed to be a bit more color in his cheeks now that he had eaten and drank some. Igraine attempted to force Arthur to sip down broth almost as soon as he had taken his seat. The queen feared that his lack of nutrition during his sickness would allow him to become more susceptible to another illness.
He caught her eyes, having felt her gaze on him.
Feeling awkward for staring, Gwen averted her gaze to her lap.
To her surprise she heard the scrape of his chair as he stood. Glancing up Guinevere saw him come to stand beside her.
“I, er, just wanted to apologize. For pushing you.”
It seemed that the pair suddenly found the tips of their shoes the most interesting thing in the world as they avoided each others’ gazes.
“Thank you … Arthur,” she said, finally drifting her eyes up to him. He followed suit, finding a flicker of a smile resting on her face.
“And you must accept my apology as well....” she began, wincing slightly as she remembered how she had knocked him into the mud. She hadn't know he had been ill at the time, but now she pondered if she had made him any worse.
He shook his head, playing off the awkward situation.
“Just don't expect me to go down so easy again,” he teased, causing a giggle to erupt from her. “I think you had a lucky shot.”
“Guinevere!”
The pair turned to the caller of her name, Uther, who was currently leading Morgana back up to the dais.
“If you would do me the honor of joining in this galliard, milady,” he said, playing up his bow for her. She beamed at his behavior before getting up from her chair. Passing in front of Arthur she paused, hesitating before hugging him tightly.
“I'm glad you didn't die,” she whispered before letting go of him to take Uther's hand.
Had she looked back, she would have seen a very abashed looking young boy staring after her.
0o0o0o
It had grown rather late when the two girls' nurses sent them to retire for the evening. Begrudgingly the two children declared their 'good-nights' to the king and queen before retiring to their chambers. Arthur had left much earlier on the orders of the king as to not overtax his energy.
Batilda had scarcely began to brush out her charge's hair when an agitated knock sounded at the door. Frowning, the nurse moved toward the door to peer out into the corridor.
From her seat at the vanity table Gwen could still hear the anxious voice of the woman.
“The Queen! She....Sweet Jesus! She collapsed!”
The woman's choked voice sent a shiver down Gwen's spine.
Batilda opened the door wider in an effort to go into the corridor to speak privately with the servant. Gwen peeped around the table to fully see the distressed servant.
Tear tracks were clear against the woman's skin and a rather crazed look was shown in her eyes.
“She....she's dead!”
0o0o0o
For the third time that year Gwen's life was turned upside down. She had thought that the loss of her father and brother had been terrible, but she had somehow made it through that incident. She counted herself lucky that she had gained such a wonderful second-family in the Pendragons and gave that as her reason for recovering.
Arthur's near-death sickness had torn at her but his sudden recovery had made it seem like a distant nightmare.
Yet the death of the queen had rattled her.
This time there was no Igraine to turn to for comfort and sympathy.
Dressed in black for the second time that year she stood alongside the two royal children as the bishop droned on over Igraine's casket.
The girl's eyes had seemed perpetually blurry from the moment she had hear the servant had give Batilda the news some two days ago.
The two royal children weren't faring much better.
Morgana was openly sobbing, attempting to bury herself into her father's side. Arthur remained stoic although had Guinevere been standing closer to him she might have noticed the tears pooling in his eyes. Uther, the coldest out of the four, simply stared straight ahead. He reacted as if he didn't have his youngest child trying to gain comfort from him. It seemed that he was in a world of his own from now on.
The queen was dead, her goodness gone, and Camelot would never be the same again.