The Ward 13/21
Title: The Ward 13/21
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 12
The announcement of their engagement brings a first experience for Gwen.
Author’s notes: Beta-ed by the awesome Guardian Izz .
“Are you alright?”
Was she?
Guinevere kept her gaze focused on the closed doors to the throne room as the pair stood before them. Her eyes had not strayed to the prince once unlike him who seemed determined with his stare. Despite her hand being in the crook of his arm she felt as if they were not, in fact, in the same room.
What did he expect her to answer?
“No, Arthur, I'm not alright! I am about to be pledged to my adoptive brother.”
or
“Just fine, Arthur… But could you stop touching me, it makes me nervous? While you’re at it I would ask you to refrain from looking at me as well. In fact why don’t we just see each other at the wedding in a couple of months.”
She could not believe that she was intended not only as Arthur’s future wife but also the future queen of Camelot.
“I'm quite alright,” she lied, not daring to even glance his way.
Had she actually spared him a few looks that morning she would have seen what Merlin spotted at once - the goofy grin that threatened to appear on Arthur’s face. She would have seen that he was delightfully happy. Yet as she was terribly embarrassed with the entire situation, Guinevere assumed he would feel that way too.
Finally a pair of guards opened the great wooden doors and admitted the pair into the crowded hall. The couple walked down the carpeted aisle while the members of the court feasted their curious eyes upon the future king and queen. Guinevere felt her skin burn as they approached a pleased looking Uther at the head of the room.
She knew that as soon as the ceremony was over talk about the prince and his betrothal to the ward would be swirling around the palace. Ladies would gossip about her gown; a cream creation with gold embroidery. Then they would move on to listing all her flaws. The men would speak of the prince finally entering the realm of matrimony; the knights shall no doubt make some vulgar jokes unfit for polite society.
Heirs.
That topic would be on everyone's lips by the end of the night and would not cease till the day she died.
How quickly will the Lady Guinevere become with child after her marriage? Will the Prince desire her? Will she be successful? Will she beget sons? How many sons?
She curtseyed before her guardian as the man beside her bowed.
“It is my wish for my son and heir Arthur Pendragon, Prince of Camelot to be betrothed before God to Lady Guinevere Leodegrance of Cameliard,” Uther proclaimed to the gathered nobles with a sparkle in his eyes.
It was rather surprising that the normally guarded king would be so open with his emotions his ward observed. Guinevere realized, with a sinking heart, that he must think this match a rather brilliant scheme on his part. He had taken her in, educated her and now he would be reaping the benefits of his charity. For the first time in her life, for a short moment she felt contempt toward the king.
The bishop came before them, dressed in his best vestments, and directed them to stand opposite of each other. He took one hand from each of them as one of the priests covered their clasped palms with a band of red silk. The holy man's words blended together in Guinevere's ears as her gaze focused on the band binding her once free hand to Arthur’s. She knew that men often complained about being “locked down” in matrimony, and despite the tolerated adultery on their part they mourned their lost freedom. But did they once even consider the loss of independence of their brides?
Of course that was rebellious wishful thinking on her part. Women in her days were never free, they were passed down from fathers to husbands to second husbands to sons… Always in the hands of men.
How long would Uther hold off until the official marriage? A few months at most.
The cloth was removed from their hands, yet the bishop kept speaking. What was he saying?
Her mind, although fluent in Latin, had no wish to translate. Instead her attention focused on Merlin as he stepped toward the prince, a velvet pillow in his hands. The king’s heir plucked a silver ring from its place among the velvet. Gently he raised her hand, slipping the band onto her left hand.
A polite smattering of applause woke her from her dream like state as the pair followed the king from the hall.
She was engaged.
Guinevere half expected Arthur to start laughing, to tell her it had all been a joke. That this was simply another childish game and that Morgana had set up the entire scam.
Yet she knew this was real, and she had just become engaged to the boy that had once pushed her in the mud.
As soon as possible she retracted her hand from his warm, firm arm. He frowned in confusion, yet she spoke before he had a chance to inquire about her actions.
“I have much to do,” she lied, her eyes already darting halfway down the corridor, away from him. “I will see you at the feast later.”
Already moving away from him, Arthur’s strong hand on her wrist halted her movements.
“Can it not wait?” he asked, the remainder of his earlier glee still a sparkle in his eyes. “I wanted to speak with you.”
Already he used his dominance over her, and yet not even her husband. Knowing that she was stuck Gwen silently nodded and allowed him to slide his grip from her wrist to her hand. Such a simple touch of flesh, yet she felt the heat rise to her cheeks. She had never held his hand even as a child; it had simply been improper
The young woman glanced to the prince's hand grasping hers as he led her down the corridor. A thick silver ring rested on his pointer finger, the band nearly the same as hers with the absence of diamonds. Igraine had been fond of wearing the ring on her finger when she had been alive. Gwen had thought that Morgana inherited all of her mother's jewelry, yet it appeared that the simple band had been claimed by the late queen's eldest. It warmed Gwen’s heart to see him carrying a bit of his mother with him. It was at times like these that she felt a connection radiate between them, she had only to figure out what it represented as it now seemed stronger than before.
Arthur pulled her aside into an alcove, far from the crowd that was exiting the throne room.
Brown eyes met blue as the newly engaged couple stared at one other in silence. Finally, he broke into a gentle smile as he lifted his other hand to brush away a stray curl. Her heart leaped into her throat at the sensation of his fingers against the sensitive skin of her cheek.
“You look beautiful,” he whispered, his fingertips straying from where he had adjusted her curl to her chin. He tipped her head slightly upward as he bent his head toward her.
“My lady?”
Guinevere inhaled sharply, turning her head to block the course of Arthur's head. He pulled up sharply, a thinly veiled look of annoyance on his features. The young woman silently prayed in thanks that Batilda had chosen to look for her.
She swept the prince a graceful curtsey, trying to keep her speech from trembling. “I shall see you at the feast, sire,” she excused herself, turning her back on the disgruntled young man. She passed by Batilda, who kept her eyes on the prince with a knowing look upon her face before she followed her charge.
What had he been planning?
Surely he hadn't meant to kiss her?
She had heard plenty of the other ladies whisper of what seemed to be a simple touch of lips, yet had never personally experienced it. His infamous expertise compare with her ignorance in all things pleasurable to the flesh and desire was unfair really. It wasn't proper for a noblewoman of her standing to simply go around kissing young men that she wasn't engaged to. It would bring shame upon both her and the king if anyone were to find out.
Yet this was Arthur, her betrothed. It was acceptable then, was it not? The king must know of his son’s reputation and would hardly expect his son to remain virtuous, surely.
Guinevere rejoined the nurse in her chambers. She found it difficult paying full attention to the elder woman’s comments on clothing choices of the gathered ladies. Gwen was far too flustered to think about what these ladies had been wearing and who had seemed rather bedraggled that morning.
Batilda went over to the clothes press to search for something more simple for her charge to wear, while the young lady approached one of the windows lining the wall, pressing her left hand on the casing.
She could do this. She would carry this burden with her head held high.
It was just like any other marriage, wasn't it? But most noble girls had never met their future husbands before. Most other girls didn't know their intendeds’ thoughts, fears, preferences. Most had not grown up alongside the man.
Gwen eyed her left hand where her new ring, symbolizing the Pendragon claim on her, shone in the streams of light from the far window. The light reflected off the center diamond causing it to sparkle prettily on her hand. She hadn't really had time nor desire to inspect the band when it had been placed on her finger. Begrudgingly she had to admit that it was beautiful: the center diamond surrounded by smaller clusters truly stood out against her olive skin. It caught the sun easily and created a pleasant sparkle. She quickly placed her hand down, hiding it within the folds of her skirt. A pretty gift wasn't going to make her feel any better.
The slow footsteps of her nurse alerted the young woman to Batilda’s presence.
“My lady?” the woman inquired, watching her hesitantly.
Gwen turned quickly, schooling her features into a forced smile. The nurse knew Gwen for far too long to be fooled by the sham, but was wise enough not to comment.
“I fear that with the excitement of Yuletide I have all but neglected Gaius, not helping as much as I ought have.”
The nurse silently helped her change into a simpler gown of pale pink and a silver surcoat. It wasn't nearly as fine as the cream creation she had worn that morning, and it made her feel oddly relieved. She could be simply Gwen again for the moment, and not the future queen - Arthur Pendragon’s wife. She made to take the ring off her hand but Batilda's protests halted her movements.
“I don't think it would be proper, lamb,” the woman half-chastised her charge, causing the young woman to frown.
“I don't wish for it to be ruined,” she protested, although that was only part of the reason.
“Will you do the same with your wedding band? You know that is forbidden. You cannot go gallivanting around without it, my lady. You are taken.”
Knowing that the older woman was right, yet despising the words she used, taken, Gwen stubbornly retreated to her jewelry chest. She withheld her protests, knowing that such behavior would appear childish, and extracted a silver chain from the chest. Carefully she threaded the ring through the delicate chain before clasping it around her neck. The ring rested against her bosom underneath the fabric, safe from view.
“There,” she said, pushing her hair back to hide the clasp. “I still am wearing it, technically.”
Batilda muttered something about 'troublesome young girls' but simply waved her charge off. Gwen flashed the woman a quick grin of apology before heading toward Gaius' chambers.
The man seemed surprised to see the young woman, yet politely bade her enter his chambers.
“With the festivities over I can aid you more, Gaius,” she began, taking in the state of the room. It was clear that Gaius was not the only person to use these rooms anymore. There were traces of Merlin scattered all over it, whether it be a discarded neck scarf or a forgotten sock. The elderly physician spotted one of the offending garments, sighing softly as he stooped to pick it up.
“I sometimes believe the boy to be deaf,” the man began, picking up another forgotten garment. He sighed, stretching his back wearily after rising. “If I've told him once, I've told him a hundred times to pick up after himself.”
Guinevere laughed, settling herself at the book-strewn table. “I fear Arthur must always have him at his beck and call. Poor Merlin probably has no time over for any chores you give him,” she commented, toying slightly with the cover of a heavy tome.
The physician chuckled. “Your betrothed is fond of giving Merlin an extensive chore load.”
Intent in his work, the man did not see Gwen wince at the title. She quickly changed the subject once he joined her at the table. “What have you been working on? I imagine you must have many orders lined up for this winter,” she began, listening carefully as the physician went on about the high demand for his help.
Hiding in Gaius' chambers she could avoid the outside world. Or more specifically, the prince with the sapphire eyes.
0o0o0
The feast that evening provided Guinevere with as much apprehension as her betrothal ceremony that morning. To have so many people watching her every step was unnerving. She was lead into the hall, head held high, on the arm of her future husband, garbed once more in an elaborate gown. Uther's betrothal gift graced around her neck: a moderate sized diamond threaded through a chain of silver braid. It felt heavy, weighing down her delicate shoulders, yet she had accepted the gift graciously. The king was simply doing what he thought was right; she would have to live with it.
The evening passed in a blur filled with countless dances and numerous congratulations. She felt that her face was growing numb from having to constantly smile at the well-wishers presented to both herself and Arthur. A sinking feeling formed within her: would she have to do this as queen every day? Silently sit at her husband's side, reminding him of names and titles, as countless people spoke to them? Would she be able to keep up?
Meanwhile Arthur’s very touch continued to burn whenever they shared a dance with the rest of the guests. She avoided his gaze, knowing his own followed her every move.
Gratefully she retired as soon as permitted. Anxiety flooded her heart as she realized that possibly some time soon she wouldn't be walking back to her own chambers to sleep alone anymore. And she suspected there wouldn’t be much sleeping involved in a wife’s duty to her husband.
0o0o0
When the future queen of Camelot visited the physician for the third day in a row it caught Gaius' attention to her plan.
“I'm starting to think that you are avoiding someone,” he said, arching his eyebrows slightly. She blushed at being caught.
“I am sorry if I have intruded upon your hospitality,” she began, pushing a stopper into a small bottle. She placed the finished product among a group of other bottles of various shapes and colors. Merlin's job was to later distribute these to the villagers and courtiers who had requested them; the boy should have been arriving at any moment.
“I do enjoy helping you, truly. ‘Tis just that … this also provides me with a reprieve.” She kept her eyes on her work, even as she felt his aged ones boring into her.
Gaius sighed knowingly. “You cannot run from him forever,” he went on, guessing correctly who she was avoiding. “You will eventually have to marry him.”
Her delicate hands paused in her work for a moment before she steeled herself to move again. “I have some time,” she insisted. Although a date had not been set, she knew that the wedding would not take place during the winter months, but was more likely to occur in either spring or summer.
The pair jumped as Merlin stumbled hurriedly into the room. He shouldered a leather bag draped across a spare chair, quickly packing the bottles into the pouch. At Gaius' look of disapproval the young man paused.
“His Royal Pratness needs me to muck his stables in an hour,” he explained, clearly trying to take more care with the glass bottles now that he had been silently scolded. “If I am a second late you know he will add something else for me to do.”
As if the prince had heard him, he appeared at the open door of Gaius' chambers.
“And Merlin, next-”
The command froze on his lips as he zoomed in on the feminine figure hiding behind her curls across from the elderly physician.
“Guinevere,” he greeted her, a curious smile on his face.
Startled she fumbled with the cork currently in her hand, nearly dropping it onto the stone floor.
“Arthur.”
Gaius shifted uncomfortable on his bench while Merlin watched the pair in amusement.
“I would like to talk to you,” the blonde began, gesturing to the corridor.
Gwen felt her breath catch. The last time he had told her that he had nearly kissed her.
Yet.... She didn't want to admit it, but she was curious as to what it would feel like to have her lips touch his. Was it warm? Would his lips feel like silk against her skin? Or would it be rough and forceful just like he was, dressed in his armor?
Guinevere realized that she hadn't yet answered him and quickly stood up, nearly upsetting the medications before her. She mumbled a quick apology as she exited the chamber, prompting the prince to close the door behind them. They walked a few paces away from Gaius' before pausing beside a window.
Gwen kept her hands clasped before her, unable to escape the questioning gaze of the knight before her.
“Have you been avoiding me?” he questioned, already knowing the answer. When she finally looked up he didn't look upset or annoyed; he seemed amused. Laughing at her expense.
Ire rose within her. “Am I no longer permitted to help Gaius?” she asked, feeling that she needed to defend herself from his teasing. To fight him every step of the way. “I am not your wife yet, you have no need to watch my every step.”
He bit back a chuckle at her outburst, shaking his head. “No... You aren't the type that would allow that, would you?”
She moved to protest but before she had time to think his lips were on hers. His lips felt surprisingly soft as they molded against hers. His hands moved to cup her face, prompting Guinevere to close her eyes. She couldn’t move and her arms just hung loose at her sides. It felt … nice.
“Sire, I will be back-”
The two jumped, separating as if they were two naughty children being caught.
Shocked Merlin blushed from where he stood by Gaius' door, awkwardly adjusting the leather strap of his satchel. “I'll just go then,” he mumbled, turning away from the pair, the tips of his ears red from embarrassment.
Arthur frowned at the boy, reminding himself to come up with another task for Merlin as soon as he returned, before turning back to his bride.
Yet the young woman was halfway down the corridor, intent on getting as far away as possible from the man she had just shared a kiss with.
He smirked, running his tongue over his lips - longing.