The Ward 9/21
Title: The Ward 9/21
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 8
An invitation arrives for the wedding of Princess Vivian to Prince Edgar. A situation arises where Morgana's growing abilities are put to good use.
Author’s notes: Beta-ed by the awesome Guardian Izz .
“More like this, milady,” instructed the brunette, rearranging Gwen's hands on the lute in her hands. Gwen stifled a groan of frustration over yet another correction, conveniently ignoring Morgana's badly concealed snort of laughter. The young woman rearranged her hands according to Lady Helen's instruction before strumming another imbalanced tune. The woman sighed.
“I suppose it is better,” the woman sniffed, before turning to Morgana who hastily had to readjust her features so that the noblewomen wouldn't know that she had been making fun of her. Gwen listened halfheartedly to Morgana's playing as she stroked the smooth surface of the lute. Igraine insisted on an early start of girls’ musical education but following her death their musical exploration had been put to the side. It was only a few years later that Uther decided that since it was apart of every accomplished noblewoman's repertoire, both girls should after all be schooled in playing at least one instrument.
Being perhaps the premier musician in Camelot she flaunted her status constantly and continuously. Being appointed as the music teacher of the princess and the king's ward had only added to her ego. Safe to say Lady Helen wasn't the most patient of teachers. Morgana liked to jest that if Lady Helen had been younger she would have turned out a perfect match for Arthur; their egos had no boundaries and would clash with attuned colors.
After a few more chords each the impatient teacher finally declared them finished for the day. The two young ladies gratefully put away their lutes thanking their tutor, who seemed to sincerely think that they were happy to have spent time with her admiring her talent.
The two exited Morgana's chambers, where the lessons had been held that day, and began the trek to Uther's rooms. Usually that the royal family plus Gwen took their supper together in the king’s quarters, in a more familiar setting rather than the other more grand vicinities within the castle. The great hall was most often reserved for more formal dinners with the entire court celebrating visiting nobles and alias. During these cozy meals shared between the four the young participants would each update Uther on their daily activities before inquiring about the schedule for the next day. It was within these walls during these suppers that Gwen felt she could recognize the good man in the hardened stubborn king.
A tardy servant turned the corner before them, nearly colliding with the pair. He stumbled, grabbing onto the wall for support as he stared at them rather bashfully.
“Merlin!” Gwen exclaimed, laughing lightly at her friend. “Arthur chasing after you again?”
The movement from the corner of her eye caught her attention, allowing her to catch in time Morgana's reaction. The princess darted forward as if from instinct, her arm half reached out to him as if to catch him. The two locked eyes for a moment before Morgana quickly straightened up.
“We best hurry,” she said brusquely, sweeping past Merlin. Gwen frowned picking up the train of her dress to hurry her pace.
It only struck her then. “Merlin filled in for your valet when I was visiting Cameliard, did he not?” she asked, taking note of her friend's sudden blush.
“He did,” Morgana confirmed, looking anywhere but her friend. She nodded to the guard at the door who admitted them into Uther's chambers, effectively halting their conversation.
A warm smile broke onto the king's face at the sight of them.
“I trust your lesson with Lady Helen was successful?” he inquired taking a sip from his goblet.
The prince on the king’s right side noticed how Gwen hiding a smile exchanged meaningful looks with his sister.
“She is very...gifted, Father,” the princess replied, taking up her own goblet to prevent any laughter bubbling out at the thought of the diva.
“Arthur was just updating me on the Northern Borders,” the king continued, nodding to his son. “But I have something that might interest you ladies more than news of patrols: we've received an invitation to the wedding of Prince Edgar of Clarence and Princess Vivian of Eastland.”
Gwen felt herself sit up a bit straighter in her seat as her friend smiled brightly. “We haven't had a wedding in quite some time,” she said, listening to her guardian with renewed interest.
Morgana picked up on the subject quickly. “You are permitting us to go, are you not?” There was a hint of a plea in her tone, influence from the early days as the little princess that received whatever she wished from her father.
Uther laughed sipping at his wine. “Of course Morgana. I wouldn't have brought it up if I weren’t going to allow you. I know better than to tease you.”
A snort was emitted by Arthur, who quickly occupied himself with adjusting his napkin in order to ignore Uther's look of disproval.
Morgana rolled her eyes at him while her father's back was turned.
“Is he joining us?” she asked, clearly hoping that her father would not allow her brother to come along. The king nodded his head, oblivious at the moment toward his daughter's animosity toward her brother.
“I won't be attending; Sir Gregory will be visiting and I have matters that I need to discuss with him.” He nodded toward his son. “Arthur will escort you and Guinevere there on my behalf.”
Uther turned to hold his empty goblet out to a servant, and Morgana used this as an opportunity to openly scowl at her brother. He didn't seem bothered by it at all, and instead smiled smugly at her as if nothing was wrong.
Gwen watched their exchange, once again reminded of her own brother. It was hard not to think of Elyan whenever she saw Morgana and Arthur banter, which was often. The pair had their squabbles, but she knew that they would be the always help one another in the time of need.
“Princess Vivian isn’t much older than you, Morgana,” Uther commented in a teasing way as his youngest child looked up from her plate. “Who knows? Perhaps this time next year she will be the one attending your wedding.”
Morgana laughed, although it sounded hollow. “Don’t rush my time with you, Father,” she answered, disguising her unease with a smile. Guinevere quickly looked away as Arthur cleared his throat awkwardly and the two exchanged looks across the dining table. Both could tell that Morgana wasn’t too thrilled at her father’s impending plans.
Yet all of them were aware, the two young women especially, that marriage was one of their most important duties set in life. Through marriage Camelot could strengthen its alliances, form new treaties avoiding blood shed and war. A simple wedding ceremony could ensure peace and prosperity for the people the king as a ruler was responsible for.
As the two girls departed from Uther’s that night Gwen tried to cheer her friend up a bit and forget the topic of matrimony and duty. “I don’t think your father is yet ready to give you away to some prince,” she teased Morgana, nudging her arm slightly. “Anyway, I think Arthur’s marriage is his priority now.”
The two paused at the head of the staircase, turning to face each other.
“He’ll have to search for the perfect noble.”
She turned her face upward in an imitation of some of the haughtiest baronesses, eliciting a small chuckle from her friend.
“Whoever she is, I pity her. She shall constantly have to stroke his ego. Miserable soul.”
Morgana elbowed her friend gently, laughing as they climbed the stairs leading to their wing of the castle.
“Don’t let him hear that,” Morgana advised as they stopped outside of Gwen’s door.
The lady halted with her hand on the door handle. “Will you be joining me for vespers?” she asked, watching as Morgana winced.
“I won't tonight,” she explained, toying with the edge of her sleeve in something of a nervous manner. “But perhaps tomorrow eve.” She continued down the hall for her room. “Goodnight, Gwen.”
After wishing her friend a 'good night' in return, Guinevere entered her chambers to find Batilda doing some last minute tidying.
“I believe there is a fresh veil in the clothes press, Batilda,” Gwen addressed her nurse before crossing over to her vanity table. “Would you help me put it on, please?”
Igraine had always stressed to the girls never to go to the chapel bareheaded. Even though the former queen was no longer there to school her on proper etiquette she still felt as if she was doing something wrong whenever she went to mass without her head covered.
She sighed softly, enjoying the feeling of her nurse brushing her hair before the silk, oval veil covered them from view.
0o0o0
“There is a fresh batch of noblemen arriving on the morrow,” Uther alerted his son as the two stood up from the table.
“Mmm.”
Uther, finding his son's behavior rather amusing than disrespectful, gently smiled.
“They'll be arriving for their first test on the road to knighthood. However, unless they will be wearing dresses and have curly hair I doubt you shall spare them a second glance,” finished the king, successfully catching his son’s attention.
A flush graced the prince's features. “I have no idea what you mean,” he protested, clearly knowing exactly whom his father was alluding to.
Uther smiled in a knowing way before clapping his son on his back. “Join me for vespers; it will relax you.”
Arthur ducked out of his father's grasp, grinning. “I have drills to plan, don't I father? You said yourself that a new troop is coming in?”
Still smiling the prince exited the room, leaving the king to find his own words thrown back at him. Shaking his head at impertinent children he made his way to the chapel, pausing at the door to glance over the assembled congregation.
The elderly Baron Bors was kneeling in the first pew already bent over as if asleep. A few rows back was one of Morgana's maids, praying quietly as she awaited the service. And at the front opposite of Bors was a figure of absolute femininity already knelt in prayer.
For a brief second Uther’s breath hitched as the king envisioned that it was Igraine.
But the vision was interrupted as the figure lifted her covered head, turning slightly to address the servant sitting beside her.
Guinevere.
Lately he had noticed how much she had taken after his late wife.
She had followed in Igraine's footsteps regarding her piety, unlike his own daughter. Morgana more often than not completely missed vespers for weeks at a time. Yet he nearly always saw Guinevere attending. She also held something of his wife's patience and gentle behavior.
Was it terrible that he thought his ward acted more like his wife than his own daughter?
He pushed away any guilt at this before taking up his seat, nodding to the bishop to begin the service.
0o0o0
“Are we almost there?” implored Merlin, resting rather dramatically on his horse as the small party made their way along the forest path.
Gwen bit back a giggle at the boy's antics as she prodded her horse onward. She could practically feel Arthur rolling his eyes.
“We aren't much closer than we were five minutes ago when you last asked, Merlin,” he chastised, drawing out his servant's name. Morgana muttered something under her breath, most likely an insult regarding her brother, as she nudged her horse beside Merlin's.
The two exchanged hidden looks, almost completely oblivious to the others in the group. Gwen nudged her own mount alongside Arthur's in order to give them space, ignoring the troop of knights behind them. She wasn't sure what had changed between her friend and Arthur's servant, but she wasn't about to address it here.
“I've never witnessed a royal wedding before,” she commented, her eyes straying from the armed men around them to their leader next to her. “I haven't seen any weddings, actually. Well, unless you count Sir Wilhelm and Lady Helena's.” She laughed, sparking the male beside her to grin.
“Please. That wedding was a mockery. Wilhelm had to be practically carried all the way to the altar and I am sure he fell asleep during the service. Helena sliding the ring onto his finger was probably the only thing that woke him up.” He shook his head, his tone taking on something of pity.
“Poor girl. But I suppose he'll be gone in a few years. She'll be an eligible widow by then.... better off than she is now.”
Gwen withheld a shudder. To marry someone so much older than her was a real possibility, although she would rather not. She pitied poor Helena who had to sleep beside a man who could barely walk due to his age.
“Well, I hope your father chooses a nice, young nobleman for me,” she said, not noticing the glimmer of hope that formed on her royal companion’s face. “Someone young, healthy, wealthy, someone who won't fall asleep before four in the afternoon,” she teased, clearly listing every quality the elderly Sir Wilhelm lacked.
Arthur seemed to have recovered, and chuckled at her qualifications. “I don't think being the wife of a simple country lord would suit you,” he baited the lady, causing her to tilt her head to the side slightly. “What you just described is someone of a higher standing than a simple knight.”
She laughed, delighted in this game of make believe and fortune guessing. Somehow with her real marriage not on the line quite yet it was easier to joke about marital vows.
“Who would that be? A king perhaps?” She sat up a bit straighter in her saddle, putting on a haughty air. “I think I would make quite the queen.”
The prince grew quiet and serious. “I think that you would.”
Feeling a little uneasy that his mood had so suddenly changed she quickly switched topics, trying to forget what she had heard. Clearly she misunderstood him…
0o0o0
“You buffoon! Tis wrinkled? Can’t you see?”
Guinevere winced as she and Morgana passed by an irate Princess Vivian who was, at the moment, shoving a slightly creased dress under a terrified servant's nose. The group had arrived at the castle of the groom-to-be earlier in the afternoon and just emerged from their rooms to converse with the gathered guests.
“I can hardly wear such a disaster to supper tonight. Tomorrow is my wedding day! The bride can't appear at the feast before her wedding in a wrinkled gown!”
The servant uttered hurried apologies before taking off running down the hall, obviously scared, with the offending garment in hand.
The two noblewomen quickly tried to disappear from the scene, not wanting to attract attention from the bride-to-be. But Vivian would have none of that.
“Morgana!” she exclaimed, as if nothing in the world pleased her more than seeing the young woman.
Camelot’s princess winced slowly turning around, her grimace turning into a disguised fake smile.
“Vivian!” she replied, embracing the blonde stiffly.
Vivian obviously didn't pick up on Morgana's behavior as she had been too busy admiring herself on a newly polished plate that a different servant carried past them.
“I'm so pleased that you are able to attend the wedding,” the princess gushed, looping her arm through a reluctant Morgana's.
“Edgar is a bore. If he wasn't a prince I don't think I'd have given him a second glance.”
It was only at this time that she noticed Guinevere.
“And who is this?” she asked, watching as Gwen curtsied before her.
Morgana gratefully disentangled herself from Vivian's grip before going to stand beside her friend.
“This is Lady Guinevere Leodegrance. Her father was a nobleman at my father's court - the king’s most loyal friend and knight,” she explained as the princess scrutinized Gwen for a moment.
“It is wonderful to meet you, milady,” Guinevere began, rising from her curtsey. “It is an honor to attend your wedding.”
Gwen had supposed some kindness might soften the spoilt woman before her but apparently that was not the case.
The princess sniffed. “I've heard about you,” she commented, clearly disinterested. “Uther is quite the generous man, raising an orphan, noble or not.”
The sight of one of the servants unknowingly dragging the hem of a gown thrown over his arm sent the princess in a tizzy. “Alder, what are you doing!” she nearly roared, striding toward the horrified servant.
Morgana frowned at the disrespect shown toward her friend but didn't have a chance to retaliate as Guinevere nearly dragged her from the scene.
“Whoever this Edgar is, I pity him,” Gwen added as Morgana nodded. The two tried to block out Vivian's screeching as they hastened their departure from her chambers.
0o0o0
The April morning of the wedding proved to be a balmy day. Gwen and Morgana chattered amiably as their maids helped with preparations for that afternoon's ceremony.
As Batilda laced her into her gown, a pale yellow creation with embroidery of silver thread, Guinevere realized with trepidation that her own wedding day could be approaching at a faster pace than she expected. At this moment, of course, she was being dressed as a guest, but would she be wearing the fine-laced robes of a bride in a month? Two months? She held her head a bit higher and took a deep breath. Whoever Uther chose for her she would have to go to without a fuss. That was the lot of noblewomen and their social circles, or women of their times in general.
Batilda wove pure white flowers through her charge's curls before helping the young lady standing up from her settee. While Gwen wore a crown of flowers, Morgana's brow was held together by the coronet representing the Princess of Camelot.
As so many guests had been invited to the event many nobles had had to double up on rooms. The two companions were pleased to share a set of chambers along with their maids, while Arthur had been stationed with Merlin. Imagining how Arthur had fared with Merlin chattering throughout the night on his bedroll on the chamber floor was something that amused Gwen immensely.
Morgana tugged open their door, nearly jumping as she found Arthur leaning up against the wall opposite it.
“I was going to lead you both to chapel,” he explained, standing up straighter as he noticed Guinevere peek her head over Morgana's shoulder.
“Feeling chivalrous today, brother?” Morgana teased, smoothing down the sleeve of his tunic. He was currently garbed in his knight's wear, minus the heavy armor, complete with his new crown representing him as Uther’s official heir.
The prince’s eyes strayed from his sister to the young woman behind her, even as he addressed Morgana.
“Is it so unimaginable for me to act mature once in a while?”
Morgana laughed, clearly thinking that he was joking. Yet the solemn gaze her brother was currently giving Guinevere caused the young princess to reconsider Arthur's meaning.
He swiftly offered his arm to his sister and then following his other to Gwen. She gingerly took his chivalrous offering, barely daring to touch his strong upper arm with her fingertips. The two remained silent as Morgana chattered on the entire walk to the chapel.
0o0o0
The ceremony had been solemn, yet the feast that followed was one of the most boisterous events Gwen had ever witnessed. All around her guests were full with good cheer and, from the looks of some, filled with good wine. She and the Pendragon brother and sister had been placed alongside one another among other prominent nobles before the dais. Gwen sneaked a few peeks at the 'happy' couple seated at the center of the dais. Vivian was most often than not arguing with either a servant or complaining to her father, about something that Gwen could not distinguish from her distance. The blonde’s new husband looked as if he was standing before his executioner all throughout dinner.
After the feast the dancing had begun, which left Guinevere itching to be out among the others. Out of propriety Arthur took Morgana first, prompting Sir Leon to attend to Gwen. More often than not the elder knight shared a dance or two with her whenever a feast was held in Camelot and when he had accompanied them as part of Uther's security force, he had been recruited yet again as her dance partner. As handsome as Sir Leon was, she knew that she felt no attraction for him. Although he was too polite to even consider such discussion with the young lady, she suspected that he too felt nothing other than friendship for her.
That still didn't stop the whispers around court, often during the periods of stagnant gossip. Guinevere had, with Morgana's help, learned to get past such things.
After a few dances she returned to their sitting area, taking a sip from her wine goblet hoping to get cooled down despite the stuffing heat.
As the night wore on she began to notice pairs of guests leaving the hall and reentering not too long afterward, usually more disheveled than they had looked when they first left. A blush stained her cheeks as she watched yet another eager pair dart from the room.
“You didn’t think you would get through the night escaping a dance with me, did you Guinevere?”
She turned in her seat at his voice, smiling slightly at Arthur offered her his hand. She placed her goblet back on the table before graciously accepting her new dance partner.
Perhaps it was the wine, or the overall heat in the room, but she felt slightly more comfortable around him now. Why she hadn’t been at ease around him lately she couldn’t tell. But surely the change in his behavior around her was not just a figment of her imagination?
Maybe she had just made it all up.
Still even in her current state of lightheadedness she could feel his eyes on her as she followed the others in the steps. Gwen strayed perhaps an extra inch or two as she circled him, mimicking the movements of the other ladies as they twirled around their partners. She chanced a look at his facial features as the two took a step forward, their palms meeting before them.
There was that darkening look in his sapphire eyes again.
With her stomach fluttering anxiously she followed through the last of the dance, wishing that Morgana was still nearby. Speaking of, Gwen hadn't seen the girl for nearly an hour. And come to think of it, neither had she seen Merlin …
The group of dancers clapped in appreciation at the end of the song, giving Guinevere enough time to slip away from Camelot’s prince. At this rate she much preferred retiring to her chambers, then remain beside the blond man currently staring holes into her back for a moment longer.
0o0o0
The party from Camelot had to wait alongside the other guests as rain kept anyone from leaving the castle on the morrow. It was a very convenient time for the storm, as this gave those suffering from their hangovers and nights of pleasure a time to recuperate.
It was early the following day that the group finally left the newlyweds and started upon the journey back to Camelot’s great walls.
Catching glimpses of the couple the day after the wedding filled Guinevere's heart with dread. Would her own husband be a male equivalent to Princess Vivian? At least Edgar could assert himself over his wife's behavior, although he seemed reluctant to. But as a wife Guinevere would have no such rights. She would have to put up with whatever her husband did, including any infidelities - such was the way of women. Batilda had long ago explained to her that when the time came for her to be married, Gwen would most likely have to turn a blind eye to such matters. It was what men did - their nature. It shouldn't be taken seriously by a dutiful wife.
Sir Leon, who had been at the head of the group that morning, raised a gloved hand silently for the party to halt. Even far behind the knight Gwen could hear the sound of rushing water.
The worried looking knight dismounted his horse approaching the rushing water stream. Gwen craned her neck in order to see why they had stopped and was only granted a better view when Arthur dismounted his horse ahead of her. The two men spoke quietly among themselves a moment before returning to the group.
“The river is too high,” Arthur began, clambering back up onto his own mount. He wheeled it around to face the rest of them while Sir Leon remounted.
“We will have to double back and find another way. The rain has caused the waters to swell, and we can't risk crossing, especially with the supplies.”
He nodded to one of the knights in the rear of the party to lead the group onward.
“I know another way,” mentioned Morgana, causing her brother to halt his horse.
She seemed rather worried looking, but Gwen attributed it to the fact that they might now become lost.
“You do?” her brother asked, clearly surprised that his sister of all people would have such knowledge of the roads in a foreign kingdom.
She gestured behind them.
“The clearing that we rode through ... if we had gone left instead of right, we would have come across a bridge,” she explained, fidgeting with the reins in her hands. “We can cross there.”
Arthur furrowed his eyebrows in confusion. “And how do you know that?”
A beat of silence rested between the two as the rest of the party watched.
“I heard some of the other guests speaking. One of them surmised that most of the rivers would be overflowing from the heavy rain,” she shrugged, as if her knowledge wasn't that spectacular. Arthur considered it for a moment.
“Backtrack to the clearing,” was his order, as the group turned their horses and start the trek backward.
Gwen glanced at her friend in concern but instead of meeting her gaze, found her eyes locking with Arthur's manservant in worry.
She rode past, going alongside Arthur as she contemplated her friend's odd behavior.