Part 29: link


    “My lady, um, the laces are not going to reach,” Daisy says, dropping her hands while Guinevere sighs.
    “This is the third gown!”
    “Well, you are with child,” the maid says.
    “Yes, but should my gowns be too tight already?”
    “Each pregnancy is different, my lady,” Daisy says tactfully.
    “And how would you know?” Gwen shoots over her shoulder.
    “Just what I hear,” she says sheepishly, taking the gown away to pick through the wardrobe for another.
    “I’m sorry, Daisy, I didn’t mean to snap at you,” Gwen says, “I know it’s bound to happen.”
    “Try this one,” the maid comes back around behind the screen with another dress, a green one that Gwen doesn’t really like because it was always a little big.
    “Yeah, this’ll probably fit now,” she sighs.
    “I don’t know why you never got it altered, my lady. It’s a beautiful gown.”
    “It is too similar to one Morgana used to favor,” Gwen frowns. “So I never bothered to fix it. Or have it fixed.”
    “Not dressed yet?” Arthur has just come back into the room.
    “I’m having trouble finding a dress that fits, I’ll have you know,” Guinevere calls crossly from behind the screen.
    “Really?”
    “Don’t get all excited, it’s not really showing yet. I’m just a little…”
    “Fuller,” Daisy supplies.
    “Yes. Fuller than usual. Thank you, Daisy.”
    “You’re welcome,” she says, finishing the laces. Gwen turns around. “You look beautiful, my lady.”
    “You’re sure?”
    “Would I lie?”
    “You’d better,” Gwen says with a smile and steps out where Arthur is waiting.
    “That’s one I haven’t seen,” Arthur says, holding his hand out to her.
    “I don’t like this one, that’s why. I’m only wearing it because it fits,” she scowls. “Daisy, would you send the royal seamstress up this afternoon?” she asks, finally giving up.
    “Yes, my lady,” Daisy says, curtseying and leaving. Just in time, she thinks, seeing Arthur reach down to caress his wife’s belly just as she makes her exit. He is so sweet with her, but that doesn’t mean I should stand around and watch.

    Arthur and Gwen stroll out to the courtyard, where Merlin is already waiting.
    “Ah, not too late then,” Arthur says as they approach, and Merlin turns.
    “He should be here soon,” he says, smiling at Gwen. “Gwen, you look especially lovely this morning.”
    “Thank you, Merlin,” she says, still chastising herself over her earlier vanity. I never worried about such things before, she thinks. And besides, I am pregnant. If there’s ever a time to eat whatever I want and embrace getting bigger, this is it.
    “You have a…” he furrows his brow, “glow about you. Baby Boy must be very happy today.”
    “I don’t see any glowing, Merlin,” Arthur says. “I mean, she is always the most beautiful woman in any room, but glowing?”
    Gwen laughs. “He’s merely referring to my healthy appearance, my, um, fuller stature, Arthur,” she explains.
    “No. You’re seriously glowing,” Merlin says.
    “Is this a magic thing?” Gwen asks.
    “Probably. When I placed that protection over him, we sort of communicated. We’re linked, in a way.”
    “Merlin…” Arthur says, his voice taking on a warning tone.
    “Don’t worry, Arthur, you’re still his second favorite,” Merlin laughs.
    “Second?”
    “Gwen is first, obviously.”
    “Ah. Right.”
    “So you can feel what he’s feeling?” Gwen asks.
    “Yes and no. I can see it in you. You’re glowing: he’s happy.”
    “And when he’s unhappy?”
    “Don’t know yet, it hasn’t happened.”
    “Merlin, if this child is born with magic, I’m going to—”
    “Accept it and love him, Arthur. That’s what you’ll do,” Gwen says, her eyes narrowing at him.
    “After Merlin spends a couple days in the stocks,” Arthur warns.
    “Yeah, as if you could keep me there,” Merlin shoots back, and Gwen laughs loudly at this.
    “Ah, here he is,” Merlin says, laughing with Gwen at the scowling Arthur. He steps forward to greet his young friend.
    “Be nice,” Gwen says quietly to Arthur, leaning up to kiss him. A bribe.
    “I’m always nice,” Arthur protests, and Gwen gives him that look again. “All right, perhaps not always.”
    She leans up and kisses him once more, a little longer. A promise.
    “Mmm, I’m feeling nice now,” he mutters.
    “Sire, may I present Haylan, son of Bavol and Ingrith of Ealdor. They are chicken farmers and my mother’s neighbors.”
    Haylan bows to Arthur. “I am honored to meet you, my lord,” he says.
    Arthur looks him over. Skinny. Are all the young men in Ealdor so scrawny? But he looks strong. That’s a rather impressive-sized pack he’s got there, and seems to be carrying it easily. Tall, about Merlin’s height. He’ll probably do. “My wife, Queen Guinevere,” Arthur introduces Gwen, and Haylan bows again.
    “My lady, it is a privilege,” he says.
    Polite, too, Arthur thinks, a little impressed.
    “Merlin, Haylan will be taking your room in Gaius’s quarters,” Arthur says.
    “But…”
    “Lord Merlin,” Arthur clarifies, using his new title to remind him, “you will be taking your own rooms in the palace. Gaius still needs assistance, someone to run errands for him as you did. Haylan will simply be stepping in your place as both my servant and Gaius’s assistant.”
    “Oh,” Merlin is stunned. I get my own rooms? In the castle? My own?
    “I presume this is acceptable, Merlin?” Arthur asks. “Gaius has already agreed, and your things are being moved right now, so if it’s not…”
    “What??” Merlin asks, thinking of the things he has stashed in his room. “I have some…things I’ll need to collect, Arthur.”
    “Yes, yes, I suspect you have a few magical items stashed around under the floorboards or something. Go get them,” Arthur says casually, waving his hand. Merlin scurries off.
    “Arthur,” he calls back, “where are my new rooms?”
    “Just follow the servants moving your stuff, Cabbage Head. Some books are being brought up from the archives for you as well, by the way.”
    “Questionable books?” Merlin smiles hopefully.
    “Indeed,” Arthur answers with a nod. “Now, Haylan,” Arthur turns back to his new servant, “how are your boot-polishing skills?”
    Haylan thinks a moment, eyes wide. What? “Um, above average, Sire?”
    “Haylan, he’s teasing you,” Gwen says, laying her hand on the boy’s arm.
    “No, I wasn’t,” Arthur says.
    “Come, we’ll show you to Gaius. He’s very wise and kind. You will learn a lot from him,” Gwen says, and she takes Arthur’s arm.
    “Do you know armor?” Arthur tries again.
    “A bit. I’m a fast learner, my lord.”
    “Well, you can’t be any worse than Merlin was, then. You at least appear to already know your right from your left.”
    Haylan looks at Gwen again, and she smiles reassuringly. “You’ll get used to him,” she whispers.
    “What was that?” Arthur asks.
    “Hmm? I’m sorry, what?” Gwen asks innocently.
    “Don’t play coy with me, Wife,” he says, but his eyes are twinkling despite his best efforts.
    “This way, Haylan. You’ll find your way around soon enough,” she says, ignoring Arthur.

    Guinevere sighs, sitting on her new chaise lounge by the window, looking out over her field. My field, she thinks, smiling at the sweetness of her husband and her brother.
    She looks down at her hands while she idly picks the dirt out from under her fingernails, enjoying the warm breeze wafting in as it blows the tendrils of curls playing about her neck.
    I had forgotten how much I enjoyed tending a garden, she thinks, scowling at a particularly stubborn fleck of dirt beneath her thumbnail. She’d spent a large portion of the afternoon exploring the plot of freshly-turned dirt, dark and soft, fertile; ready to receive something and help it grow.
    Too late in the season to start seed, she had lamented, but there’s next spring to plan for. The royal gardeners have been very good about giving her divisions from some of the plants around the grounds. Some lavender had gone in straight away. She used it in her baths, drying it and steeping it in oil until it is infused with its unique scent; blending it into her soaps, and just using dried bunches to freshen the air. Daisies, another favorite, in another spot. I’ll have to make a list.
    Lost in her thoughts, she doesn’t hear Arthur enter. He sees her sitting there, her legs out to one side, facing away from him, bare feet sticking out from beneath the hem of her dress, their little brown toes peeking at him.
    Arthur walks silently forward, watching her as she gazes out the window, lost in her thoughts. His eyes track the line from her shoulder, down to her waist, appreciating where her hip curves up and around.
    Gwen turns, laying flat against the raised end of the bench, throwing her arm across her forehead, her eyes closed. Sighing, she extends her legs out straight in front of her, stretching out her legs, flexing her toes.
    Arthur advances, soundlessly, studying his wife’s form on the bench. Her stomach does look a little rounder. Or perhaps I just want it to be so. Only one way to find out.
    He reaches her, kneels down next to the bench and drops his head, placing a kiss on her stomach.
    “Oh!” she exclaims, jumping at the surprise. She can feel the warmth from his lips through the material of her dress, and her hand drops to tangle in his hair as he turns his head, resting it on her belly, looking up at her.
    “Hello,” he says, smiling at her.
    “You startled me,” she says, tugging a lock of his hair, but not hard.
    “That was the plan,” he grins, turning to kiss her stomach again. He lifts his head and places his palm there, softly, touching, feeling. Exploring.
    “What are you doing?”
    “Um, measuring, I think. There is a little more here, my love.”
    She sighs. “I know.”
    “It’s wonderful,” he says, dropping another kiss just below her navel.
    “You’re odd.”
    “You’re beautiful.”
    She smiles at him, giving up, and he climbs up onto the chaise with her, over her, a smug little smirk on his face as it descends to hers. He kisses her softly, slowly, taking his time. His tongue languidly caresses hers, drawing it forth, making her sigh into him as her fingers track through his hair.
    He nibbles gently at her lips a bit before kissing down to her collarbone. She arches her head back and he traces the lines of her neck with his lips and tongue, sucking reverently at her throat.
    “Arthur…” she whispers, her hands trailing down his back, pausing to run across his backside for a moment or two before moving around to the front to undo his belt.
    He chuckles into her breasts as he feels her hands on his rear, loving her attention and boldness. So glad she was never taught to be a “proper” lady in the bedroom. I would have had fun un-teaching her, though, he thinks.
    She drops his belt and snakes her hands back around him and up, under his shirt, feeling the skin of his back beneath her palms, fingers tracing the outlines of the muscles, the scars. He is always so warm, she thinks, pulling him closer.
    His hips drop and she feels his hardness against her thigh. It pulls a smile at the corner of her lips, and she sits up further, allowing him to slip his hands behind her to unlace her dress.

    “The most important rule is if that door is closed, knock,” Merlin says to Haylan as the two men walk through the corridors toward the royal chambers.
    “Okay,” Haylan nods, his brows knitting slightly.
    Merlin pauses outside the doors, and a feeling stops his hand as it is rising to knock. “Oh. Actually, before you knock, listen a minute,” he says quietly.
    “Why?”
    “Because, well, um…” Merlin pauses. How to put this? “King Arthur chose to marry for love. And he and Gwen really love each other. A lot.”
    Haylan blushes just slightly, and Merlin knows the boy is getting the picture. “But surely, it’s the middle of the afternoon…” he starts to say, but stops when they hear a soft moan from the other side of the door.
    “Does not matter,” Merlin says, trying not to smile as Haylan’s blush deepens. “Clearly they are not interested in dinner at the moment,” he whispers, lifting his hand to Haylan’s shoulders to steer him away from the doors.
    “They have shared quarters, which is a tricky thing to deal with at times,” Merlin explains as they walk away.
    “They do?” Haylan is surprised.
    Merlin nods. “The trickiest time is mornings. You must wait until the door is opened. Don’t knock. Usually Gwen does opens the door, as she is accustomed to rising early. She’ll get up and the door will be opened just a crack when she is, um, decent.”
    Haylan blushes again.
    “I know it seems scandalous, but you’ll have to get used to the sight of the queen in her dressing gown.”
    “What?”
    “Trust me, she’s very proper. You won’t see anything you shouldn’t. But I just wanted you to know that occasionally she may be in her dressing gown in their quarters. And Arthur’s socks sometimes as well.”
    “His socks?”
    “She says her feet get cold,” Merlin laughs.

    Arthur slides Gwen’s shift down from her body, taking it in hungrily, looking for any visible signs of her pregnancy.
    “I know what you’re doing,” she says to him, smiling.
    “Yes, I’m removing your shift,” he grins.
    “You’re looking at my stomach.”
    “That, too.” He tosses the shift aside and it lands on top of her discarded gown. He starts to rejoin her on the chaise and she quirks her head to the side, raising an eyebrow.
    “What?” he asks.
    “Trousers, my king. Off,” she waves her hand at his lower half in a very queenly manner.
    He laughs at the command, and obeys happily before kneeling between her knees and leaning forward to kiss her breasts, lavishing loving attention on them while she sighs contentedly.
    Arthur kisses his way upward, pausing to nibble at her neck a bit more on his way to her lips.
    “Don’t leave a mark this time, Arthur, I would like to…” she pauses, gasping lightly as he presses himself against her, “…at least have the option of wearing my hair… oh!” he pushes into her slowly and without warning, his lips curving into a sly smile, “…up,” Gwen finally finishes her sentence.
    Arthur pulls back, almost completely out, and slides back in; his movements deliberately slow, languid. His lips reach hers and he kisses her the same way, savoring her lips and tongue.
    He makes a few more leisurely strokes, then withdraws from her. What is he doing? she wonders as he returns his lips to her breasts, his hands sliding down her body, hot and coarse against her soft skin.
    “I love how your skin feels,” he whispers gruffly against her, his hands roving more to illustrate his point.
    She giggles at his attentions. “That tickles, Arthur,” she says, and immediately realizes she’s said the wrong thing, because he continues unabated, and she squirms and pushes at his hands, taking them in hers and guiding them to her breasts. That should sufficiently distract him.
    It works, and he is back kissing her, slow and sweet, yet still full of passion. One hand drops down to touch her, torment her. She moans at his touch, almost a purr, and she can feel his lips smile against hers.

    “You’re lucky, actually,” Merlin says to Haylan as they walk to the laundry.
    “I am?”
    “Yes. You get the post-Gwen Arthur. I had to deal with pre-Gwen Arthur.”
    “Huh?”
    “When I first arrived here, Arthur was completely a spoiled prince. Arrogant. Rude. Okay, he’s still arrogant, but he’s not as rude. Gwen has been a very positive influence on him and how he behaves and how he treats others. Though I do like to think that I’ve had a small hand in that as well, but he’d never admit that.”
    “He scares me,” Haylan admits.
    “He’s all bark. Mostly bark. I have been in the stocks more than once,” Merlin says, smiling.
    “You have?”
    “Yes, but that was years ago. Before we understood each other. Pre-Gwen Arthur. She… stabilizes him. She and I, that’s what we do: She reminds him of his heart, I keep his feet on the ground.”
    Merlin introduces Haylan to the women in the laundry, explaining that he is Arthur’s new manservant. He cannot help but notice a few of the younger laundresses batting their eyelashes at the new handsome young man.
    “All right. I’ll introduce you to some of the knights,” Merlin says, pulling a suddenly-reluctant Haylan out the door.

    Guinevere sits forward, forcing Arthur backward. “Guinevere, what…?” he asks, surprised. She turns, pushing him back down on the bench, straddling him.
    “Oh,” he says, just as her lips close around his earlobe, teeth nibbling, her tongue tracing the outer edge of his ear, sending gooseflesh down the entire side of his body, and he shivers.
    Her tongue darts into his ear for just a moment, feather-light, and he shivers again. She giggles, places a wet kiss on his neck, and leans back slightly, gazing down at him as she trails her fingers down his chest.
    “I’ll remember that spot, you know,” she taunts him, her right hand tracing the scars on his left side. The Questing Beast. The Great Dragon. The assasin’s lance.
    “Promise?” he asks, cocking an eyebrow at her.
    “You need to ask?” Gwen leans back down, kissing him in the same languid manner that he set as she adjusts her knees and slides herself down over him, around him. She sits back, kneeling astride him, using her legs to move up and down on him, arching back slightly as his hands come up to cup her breasts.
    “Ohhh…” Arthur moans as Gwen tortures him by keeping her movements at the same leisurely pace, unhurried, savoring.
    His sword-roughened palms stroke her stiff nipples, the friction there sending delicious ripples down her abdomen to the juncture of her thighs, and she leans further back, her hands bracing on his thighs behind her.
    Arthur’s right hand skims down her chest to caress her stomach just briefly before wrapping around her back, pulling her back down. I need to kiss her.
    “Come here,” he whispers huskily, coaxing her shoulders down. Her full lips, swollen already from his kisses, meld with his, tongues immediately searching one another out.
    Gwen’s legs straighten and extend behind her, twining with Arthur’s and she slowly increases the tempo, moving faster and with slightly more urgency. She takes his face in between her hands as she kisses him, her slender hands holding his powerful jaw and neck, her thumbs tracing the stubble forming on his cheeks.
    She has more power over me with one tiny finger than an entire army of men, he thinks, surrendering completely to her, his arms thrown up over his head in abandon.
    “Arthur…” she breathes his name, nuzzling his nose with hers a moment before pressing her forehead to his and pecking his lips a few times.
    She leans up a little, supporting herself on her hands, and gazes down at him.
    “Touch me, Arthur,” she says softly, and his hands automatically come down from above his head to come around her, holding her a moment before dragging lightly down her back, caressing with his fingertips.
    His eyes open and he sees her staring down at him, her beautiful almond-shaped eyes dark with passion, her dewy succulent lips parted slightly. She bites her lower lip as she watches him, and he spurs her on with his hips, prompting her to move faster, harder.
    Arthur leans his head up to latch onto her breast, and she brings one hand up to support his head, holding him to her.
    “Yes,” she whispers, her hand gripping his head tightly, keeping him there while she feels the warmth of her impending release start to spread through her, building, building until she can no longer contain it and she cries out, her voice cracking.
    She releases his head so that she can kiss him. His own climax is very close, and he throws his head back, pressing it into the upholstery behind for a moment before pulling Gwen in closer so he can bury his face in her neck, kissing it as his release erupts from him. He inhales her scent into his nostrils as his seed rushes forth into her; an exchange of sorts. His whole body stills, his arms locked around her, manhood locked within her.
    Arthur gradually relaxes, sinking back down onto the chaise, and he sighs as his arms loosen around her while his feet twitch in the aftermath of his climax. He drops his head back and gathers her in his arms, holding her tenderly, smoothing her hair as she rests her head on his chest, snuggling into him.

    “I think we’re good. I can hear them talking,” Merlin says, head leaning slightly towards the door. “The hard part is listening like this without looking like you’re, um, creepy,” he adds with a lopsided half-smile. “Go ahead,” he indicates that Haylan should knock.
    The boy looks down at the tray in his hands. “How do I…?” he asks. How do I knock with this tray in my hands?
    Merlin looks at him. Haylan sets his face, determined. Okay. He balances the tray on one hand and reaches to knock with the other. He almost drops the tray.
    “Haylan. Set it down, for heaven’s sake,” Merlin laughs, pointing at a bench nearby.
    “Oh. Right.” He does so, and knocks.
    “Come,” Arthur’s voice from within.
    Merlin nods, and Haylan opens the door. As predicted, Gwen is in her dressing gown, but completely demure as she sits delicately on her chaise by the window, some needlework on her lap.
    “Dinner, my lord, my lady,” Haylan says, bringing the tray to the table. Merlin hangs in the background, giving Gwen a smile and a wave.
    “Oh, did I request dinner in our chambers this evening?” Arthur asks, fixing the new servant in his stare.
    “Sire, Lord Merlin recommended that you might prefer it,” he says, “I do not believe you expressed a preference. My lord.”
    “Hmm. Well. Since the queen is in her dressing gown, it would be appropriate, wouldn’t it?” he asks, face twitching away a smile that only Merlin sees.
    “Sire,” Haylan says, a noncommittal agreement.
    Gwen stands and joins them, and Haylan quickly pulls her chair out for her. She smiles at him and sits as Arthur strides to the table as well.
    “All right, then, let’s see how you do, Holden,” Arthur says.
    “Haylan,” he corrects automatically, then quickly adds, “Sire,” shooting Merlin a panicked look.
    Arthur winks at Gwen, then says, “Very good, Haylan.”
    “Sire?”
    “Don’t be afraid to speak up.”
    “What?” That was a test?
    “Ask Merlin. Or Queen Guinevere. If you’re going to be my manservant, you need to know this. Listen well, as I’ll not say it again: I will respect you a lot more if I know you have a spine. I can be a right pain in the ass sometimes, and if you lie down and take it from me all the time, it’ll just encourage me to continue to be a pain in the ass. Be a man, and I’ll treat you as such. Well, I’ll try to, anyway, most of the time.”
    Haylan is shocked. Gwen and Merlin exchange a secret smile between them.
    “Yes, Sire,” Haylan squeaks.
    “Thank you, you may go. You can return in an hour to collect the tray.”
    “Yes, Sire,” Haylan says, turning to leave.
    “Haylan,” Arthur calls after him.
    “Yes?”
    “If what I just told you leaves this room I’ll put you in the stocks so fast your head will spin.”

Part 31: link