Part 4: link
Queen Guinevere,
I humbly beg your forgiveness for the tardiness of my condolences. I know it has been many months now since your beloved king has passed, and I apologize for not corresponding sooner. Many of Lady Morgana’s Saxons had fled into my kingdom, unfortunately, and I had a bit of a mess of my own to deal with.
That being said, I know the struggle of ruling a kingdom as a widow queen. I should very much like to pay you a visit in the near future and offer my condolences personally. As allies, we should remember to support one another during trying times. On a personal note, I remember being impressed by your kindness and intelligence when we first met, and I have been waiting for another opportunity to meet with you.
My messenger will await your reply.
Yours,
Queen Annis of Caerleon.
Gwen reads the message again. She lowers the parchment and looks at the young messenger boy. “Lily, please take this young man to the kitchens and see that he is given a bite to eat,” she says.
“Yes, my lady,” her maid answers, stepping down from her place behind the throne on the dais. “Follow me,” she says quietly.
“Anywhere,” the young man answers, and Gwen smiles at Lily’s blush.
She reads the parchment again. “Percival,” she says, and the knight steps over immediately.
“Yes, my lady?”
“How many scribes do we have?”
“Um, I do not know. Leon would know that…” he trails off. Of course it’s his turn to run training, he thinks ruefully.
“Never mind, it’s all right. I need four scribes. Get Geoffrey to help you, if necessary. Have them meet me in the Council Chambers after lunch, with parchment and ink.”
“Yes, my lady,” Percival nods, furrowing his brows a moment. What is she up to now?
xXx
“Four scribes, my lady?” Geoffrey inquires. “Why four?”
“Because I wish to write four identical messages, and this seems the most efficient way,” she explains simply. “Dictate once, all four write.”
“Faster than you writing one letter and having it copied,” Percival says, nodding.
“Precisely,” Gwen says, and sits. “Ready?”
The four men seated around her, two on either side, all nod, quills poised.
“First, you,” she indicates the one closest on her right, “address yours to Queen Annis. Yours, King Lot.” Then she looks to her left. “Yours is to King Odin, and yours, King Creoda.”
“My lady?” Geoffrey interrupts.
“Yes, Geoffrey, I am convening a meeting of the heads of the five kingdoms, very good,” she says. “May I proceed?”
“Yes, my lady. Sorry.”
She dictates her letters, slowly and carefully, giving the scribes enough time to write. “…I would like to convene in one months’ time, just before midsummer. I look forward to receiving your replies.”
“My lady,” Geoffrey interrupts again. “One month? Surely that would be, ah, inconvenient for you?” he asks, his eyes dropping to her now-rather-large stomach.
“Geoffrey, the midwife and Gaius both agree that my child will likely be born after midsummer. It will be fine,” she assures them.
She turns her attention back to the scribes, who are all looking at her, their faces expectant. “That’s all,” she says. “I will sign, and when the ink is dry, send the parchments to my quarters and I will seal them.”
The scribes nod, and Gwen reaches for the letter to Annis first. She takes the quill and before she signs her name, she adds a personal message.
Thank you for your kind message and I look forward to your visit. I feel I can learn a lot from you and am grateful for your friendship.
xXx
Gwen sits at the table in her chambers, turning the royal seal over and over in her fingers again, contemplating it, feeling the smooth metal between her fingers, tracing her thumb over the dragon embossed in the metal.
“My lady?” Leon calls softly from the open door.
“Amazing isn’t it? How something so small should wield such power,” she says absently.
“Indeed,” he agrees, stepping inside. A servant with a tray bearing the four parchments follows.
“Oh,” Leon says, slightly surprised when she places the seal on the table. She was talking about the royal seal. Of course she was.
Gwen puzzles at him a moment, but chooses to let it go, indicating that the servant should set the parchments on the table.
“Thank you,” she says, and the servant nods and leaves, smiling a little at how their queen still never forgets to thank any servant for any service.
“Arthur would be proud of you, you know,” Leon says suddenly.
“I know,” she answers as her practiced fingers melt the wax over the edge of the parchment, sealing the first message perfectly. “Sit with me a moment, Leon.”
“You are very good at that, my lady,” he observes, sitting. “Every time I try, I make a complete pig’s ear of it.”
“Arthur was never very good at it, either,” Gwen sighs. “Most of the time I sealed his correspondences for him.” She seals the next one, and suddenly starts to chuckle.
“My lady?” Leon inquires, confused.
“A thought just occurred to me,” she says, reaching for the next message. “Uther.”
“Uther?” Leon asks. “I can think of few people less amusing than Uther.”
“Well,” she says, pressing the seal into the soft wax for the third time, “if you think about the fact that Uther’s precious kingdom is now being run solely by the lowly maidservant who he deemed beneath both himself and his son…”
“I suppose you have a point,” Leon says, chuckling a little himself now.
“And here I sit, carrying his grandson, no less.”
“Or granddaughter,” Leon says.
“Oh, yes, of course it could be a girl, you’re right,” she allows out of courtesy, though she knows the child to be a boy.
“You’re probably right, though, I’m sure that Uther is positively fuming in whatever corner of purgatory he currently resides,” Leon says, his voice surprisingly harsh.
“Leon, I am surprised at your tone!” Gwen says, but she is not scolding him. “You were always the most loyal of knights.” She finishes sealing the last message and sets all four back on the tray.
“I did not condone many things Uther did, to be honest,” Leon admits. “I always found his treatment of you, in particular, to be unnecessarily harsh. Especially after that business with your father.”
“Thank you,” she says softly.
“And your ability to take care of Uther when his health had failed him, despite all he had done…”
“I did that for Arthur. Because I loved Arthur, I would care for his father. He did not want to ask it of me, but he knew he could trust me,” Gwen says, her voice still soft.
“Perhaps in the spirit world, Arthur will be able to make Uther see that he made the right choice when he married you,” Leon says.
“Arthur is… not in the same realm as Uther,” Gwen says, her hand unconsciously fingering her crystal now. “Uther is in the spirit world. Arthur is in Avalon.”
“I’m confused.”
“Merlin,” Gwen says by way of explanation. “Merlin sent Arthur’s body to Avalon, and that is where his spirit is now. It’s, um, set apart. Probably a good thing they’re not in the same place,” she adds, her mind drifting once again to Uther’s unleashed spirit and how much his actions upset Arthur.
“That crystal,” Leon says, noticing her habit of late of toying with it when she is lost in thought, “where did you get it?”
Should I tell him? Tell him that Arthur sometimes visits me while I sleep? If anyone can accept this knowledge, it would be Leon.
“Merlin gave it to me after Arthur died, the first time he returned,” she says. “It is Arthur’s heart.”
“It symbolizes Arthur’s heart, you mean?” he asks, quirking his head to the side.
“Yes. Sorry, yes, it is a symbol of his heart,” she agrees, decided to keep the dreams to herself for now.
“If my opinion counts for anything, my lady, Arthur was correct to pass this kingdom to you. You’re doing very well.”
“Of course your opinion counts, Leon,” Gwen says, picking a speck of wax off the seal and replacing it in her pocket. “And thank you, but I could not do what I do without your help,” she says, placing her hand over his for just a moment.
“I’ll just… take these to the messengers, then,” Leon says, standing quickly and reaching for the tray.
“Annis’ messenger is still about,” Gwen tells him. “He was instructed to wait for a reply.”
“I will look for him,” Leon nods and heads for the door.
“Look for my maid, Lily; he’s probably trailing after her like a lost puppy,” Gwen chuckles.
xXx
A month later, Gwen is standing in the courtyard between Leon and Percival, her hands tucked into each man’s elbow. King Odin’s party had been spotted and so Queen Guinevere came out to meet them.
“I always feel very short when I am standing in between the two of you,” Gwen mutters.
“That’s because you are very short, Gwen,” Percival answers, just as dryly. Leon shoots him a warning glare over the queen’s head, but she is laughing, so Percival returns the glare with a smug look of amusement.
Odin’s party enters the courtyard and Gwen squeezes Leon’s elbow. He and Percival escort the queen down the stairs to greet her visitor.
“Queen Guinevere,” Odin greets her, holding his hand out. She places hers in it and he kisses her hand respectfully.
“Welcome, King Odin,” she says, smiling at him.
“Ah, so the rumors are indeed true,” he says, smiling down at her, “Camelot does have an heir on the way.”
“Indeed, my lord, this is not a pumpkin under my gown,” she says, patting her stomach lightly. “Though it may be as big as one.”
“My lady, the tales of your beauty do not do you justice,” Odin assures her.
“Thank you, my lord. You of course remember Sir Leon and Sir Percival,” she indicates her security detail.
“Welcome, your highness,” Leon says. He turns and waves to a servant.
“Thank you,” Gwen says to Leon. When the servant reaches them, she turns back to Odin. “King Odin, this is George, one of our finest servants. As I must stay out here to greet our other visitors, he will show you to your rooms and will also attend you during your stay. George?”
“It is an honor and a privilege, my lady,” George says, his clipped and efficient manner intact as always. “Sire, if you would but follow me,” he addresses Odin, reaching for the king’s satchel.
“George will see you to the meeting at the appointed time,” Gwen says.
“Thank you, my lady,” Odin says. He seems impressed with George, and Gwen is glad that she chose him for this task. She knows that relations with Odin are still a trifle strained, and is eager to impress upon him that he is welcome here.
He did seem more relaxed than I expected, she thinks.
Odin’s party disperses. Horses stabled, people given rooms. A short time later Queen Annis’ group appears.
“Annis,” Gwen greets the queen, embracing the other woman warmly once her feet were on the ground.
“Gwen, it is lovely to see you again,” Annis smiles. “Sir Leon, Sir Percival” she adds, nodding at the knights.
“My lady,” the two men chorus, both impressed at her skill for names.
“I see that you are well-protected,” Annis chuckles. “I must say, when I last saw Arthur you were not along, and I was saddened by your absence.”
“Ah, well, it was not a pleasure trip, as you know,” Gwen answers. “But Arthur did relay your warm regards when he returned. Once he remembered.”
“And how are you, dear? Are you well? And the babe?”
“We are both well, thank you. He’s a big one, as you can see,” she smiles. “I still grieve for Arthur, of course, but I have so much to do here that it at least keeps my mind occupied. Most of the time.”
“I know, Gwen,” Annis says, patting Gwen’s hand. The child has dropped already, she notes.
“Ah, you remember Evelyn?” Gwen indicates the maid who has just approached them.
“Yes, of course, she attended me on my last visit, and did a fine job,” Annis says, nodding as the girl curtseys.
“I am still awaiting King Lot and King Creoda, so Evelyn will be showing you to your rooms,” Gwen says.
“Thank you, Gwen. I look forward to talking with you more later,” Annis answers, following the servant up to the castle.
King Lot arrives next, Cenred’s brother. Luckily he does not share the same twisted megalomania that his older brother had, and has proven a good ally as well as being polite and respectful to the queen.
“My lady, it is a pleasure to see you again,” Lot says, kissing her hand. He is young, close to Arthur’s age, and shares some of his brother’s darkly handsome physical traits.
He looks a little like Gwaine, actually, Gwen notes as she introduces him to his assigned servant, Kirby. “I am awaiting only King Creoda of Mercia,” she tells him. “The others have arrived already.”
“Thank you, my lady,” he nods, smiling warmly.
“Have you met Creoda?” Leon asks while they wait.
“No,” Gwen says. “But I had never met Odin before, either, and he was quite pleasant.”
“Creoda is old and… traditional. I just hope that he is not…”
“Like Uther,” Percival finishes.
“We shall see,” Gwen sighs. “I’m quite used to dealing with that sort of behavior, as you know.”
“I am well aware,” Leon says, “But I am allowed to be concerned for you, my lady.”
“That is part of your job description,” she answers, smirking. The party from Mercia enters the courtyard and Gwen schools her features into something more regal.
“King Creoda, welcome to Camelot,” she says, her voice steady and firm.
The king dismounts and looks down at Gwen, stroking his grey goatee thoughtfully. He is a large man, heavy but still powerful-looking. “Queen Guinevere,” he finally says, “I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance.” He holds out his hand and she places hers in it again. He kisses her knuckles, his beard coarse against her skin.
“And I, yours, Sire. I thank you for your earlier message of condolence for the loss of my husband,” she nods.
“You are most welcome, my lady, and I daresay it appears that the young king did not leave you completely on your own,” he says.
“Oh, forgive me, yes, may I present Sir Leon and Sir Percival, my guard captains and personal bodyguards,” she introduces her knights.
“Good sirs, I see you are indeed loyal to your queen,” he nods. “But I was not referring to them, my lady,” Creoda says, his eyes twinkling now as they fall on her large stomach.
“Oh! That. Well, yes, I guess that’s correct as well,” she says, blushing slightly.
Creoda laughs now, and Gwen cannot help but relax. “My lord, you are the last to arrive,” she informs him. “Marcus will be attending you during your stay; he will show you to your rooms.”
“Ah, very good,” he says, offering his arm to Gwen. “My lady, if I may have the honor?” he asks, glancing at Leon.
“Thank you,” Gwen says, taking the king’s arm and allowing him to escort her to the castle.
“I hope you have not been standing out here very long,” he says. “You should not be on your feet very much.”
“Thank you for your concern, but I am well,” she says. “How many children do you have, my lord?” she asks, quite confident that he does indeed have children from his demeanor with her.
“Seven,” he declares proudly.
“Oh, my!” Gwen cannot help but exclaim, inwardly thinking His poor wife!
Creoda just chuckles again, and Gwen decides that he is nothing like Uther at all.
xXx
“Thank you all for coming,” Gwen says, looking around the Round Table at her guests and their advisors. She felt the Table would be a good place to hold a meeting such as this, giving no man or woman more import than another. “Since you all know each other already, we will dispense with formalities like introductions, unless anyone has any objection?”
“None, my lady, I daresay you are the only newcomer to this group,” King Creoda says.
“True,” Gwen says, smiling and nodding.
“But we were all acquainted with your late husband, and held him in high regard,” Annis ventures, sneaking a glance at Odin, whose face is impassive but not stony. “And I, for one, know that he valued your counsel above all others and that you are a wise and compassionate person.”
“Thank you, Queen Annis,” Gwen says. She pauses a moment and shifts in her seat as if she is slightly uncomfortable, but then presses on. “Down to business, then…”
Alliances are discussed. Border disputes settled, surprisingly amicably. Finally, unification is brought up, by Odin of all people.
“Queen Guinevere,” he sighs, “we all know why we are really here, so why not get down to it, shall we?”
“Very well, King Odin. I must commend you on your no-nonsense approach to matters,” she says, a half-smile playing at the corner of her mouth for a moment before it drops and she furrows her brow a moment.
“Unification,” she says after a moment. “Our kingdoms are all strong, prospering. Healthy. But united, we will be…” Gwen pauses, blinking, taking a breath, “even stronger. This was the goal my husband was working towards, and I wish to fulfill that goal.”
There are murmurs of general agreement around the table. Queen Annis is strangely quiet, watching Gwen carefully. Annis glances at Creoda and notes that he, too, is watching the young queen with interest.
“I think I need to stand,” Gwen mutters, and in moments Percival is at her side, his hand extended.
“Are you all right, Gwen?” he asks softly as he helps her to her feet.
“Yes,” she assures him. “Baby is just… active today, that’s all.”
Gwen turns to face the others again. “Now…” she starts and stops immediately, eyes wide. “Um…”
Queen Annis stands now. “My lords, I believe we will need to reconvene this council in a few months’ time,” she says quickly.
“Whatever for?” King Lot asks, looking between the two women.
“Because if you would open your eyes and see what is before you, Queen Guinevere is going to bear her child, and soon,” Annis snaps, addressing the king as if she is scolding a disobedient child.
The three kings at the table suddenly look very uncomfortable.
“Percival…” Gwen holds her hand out to the knight and he takes it, pulling her to his side, supporting her. She grips his hand tightly a moment, her eyes squeezing shut.
“Ow,” Percival says, more surprised than actually injured, looking down at the surprisingly powerful grip of the queen’s hand on his.
She loosens her grip. “Leon,” she looks at Leon and he nods, understanding what she needs him to do.
“You are all welcome to stay the night if you so choose,” he steps forward and addresses them. He glances back to see Percival and Gwen stop another moment and then Percival stoops and lifts her into his arms before continuing to the door. He also just barely hears Percival mutter something that sounds like, “Come on, Little Bird, let’s get you to your room, then.”
“I’m going with them,” Annis tells Leon and scurries after them. Leon can only nod.
“Dinner will be provided, and you may stay or go as you will,” he finishes. “If you will excuse me, I have a physician and a midwife to summon.” And with that, he all but runs from the room.
The three remaining kings and their advisors sit and stare at one another for a moment.
“Why would Queen Guinevere invite us for a council if she knew her babe was going to be born?” Lot finally says, sounding mildly insulted.
“Lot, you do not have any children,” Odin says, looking at the younger man.
“Well, no. I have yet to take a wife, in fact.”
“No one can predict when a child decides to come into this world. The best anyone can do is guess. Especially with a first-born. It is up to the babe. And until someone discovers a way to ask him, we are at his tiny mercy,” he says.
“I daresay young Guinevere did not even fully realize what was happening,” Creoda chuckles, leaning back in his seat. “But surely her wizard friend could have predicted…” he muses.
“Creoda, have you not noticed?” Lot says. “Her wizard friend is not here.”
“Well, I don’t know what he looks like,” he humphs petulantly, crossing his arms across his barrel-like chest. “I had actually been hoping to meet him.”
“I have seen this young man,” Odin says quietly. “He was Arthur’s manservant. He saved my life.”
“What?” Creoda asks. “How did Arthur’s servant save your life?”
“He stopped Arthur from killing me,” Odin answers, still softly. “I’d never seen anything like it. It didn’t strike me at the time, the oddity of it, because I had a sword to my throat, but… this servant was more like an advisor to Arthur.” He pauses again. “Arthur had his sword to my throat, as I said. And the servant… what was his name?”
“Merlin,” a voice tells them. They look over to see Geoffrey still sitting at the table, making final notes and organizing parchments.
“Thank you,” Odin says. “Merlin stayed his hand. Stopped him. Made him think about what he was doing, consider another alternative.”
“So you’re telling me that the great King Arthur, known for his arrogance and his prowess in battle, was swayed by the words of his manservant?” Creoda asks, trying to get a handle on the situation.
“Merlin was more than a servant to Arthur,” Geoffrey pipes up again, looking at the men over steepled fingers.
“Oh, I see,” Lot says, implication plain in his voice.
“Lot, do not be crass,” Creoda snaps.
“Merlin was Arthur’s friend,” Geoffrey continues smoothly, ever unflappable. “Surely you know as kings yourself what a rare commodity a friend is. A true friend.”
They all nod, somewhat sadly.
“There were only two people whom King Arthur trusted above all others. Queen Guinevere and Merlin,” Geoffrey finishes.
“Would that we were all so lucky,” Odin says.
“I believe this Merlin has been in my kingdom recently,” Lot says, thinking. “From what I hear, his mother lives in the village of Ealdor, on the edge of my kingdom.”
“She does,” Geoffrey confirms.
“I had reports of a lone young man wandering, thin and pale with dark hair, often muttering to himself. He spent some time in Ealdor, then was on his way again, heading west. He always managed to evade any patrols, and they were always very confused by it. Then someone pointed out that he surely must be the young sorcerer.”
“Why does he wander so?” Creoda wonders. “Surely the queen would welcome him in Camelot, especially now that magic is no longer illegal here.”
“Our court physician, Gaius, was Merlin’s guardian here,” Geoffrey tells them. “He told me recently that Merlin’s purpose in life, his destiny, was to serve Arthur. To help him become the great king he was destined to be.”
“Ah,” Lot says. “He feels he has failed?”
Geoffrey nods. “That is one of the reasons why it is so important to Guinevere that she continue Arthur’s work. Merlin is her friend as well, you know. Gaius and Guinevere have both made mention of the fact that while it is too painful for Merlin to remain here, he does not know what to do or where to go now. He wanders because he is lost.”
“That must be very difficult,” Creoda mutters, scratching his short gray beard with his hand thoughtfully. “Are you staying?” he asks the other two.
“I may. I should like to see the child, perhaps,” Odin muses.
“Odin, I did not realize you were so softhearted,” Creoda says, raising an eyebrow.
“What of it?”
“Nothing, my lord, it is merely surprising, that’s all. Lot?”
“I’ll be heading out presently. My kingdom is not far, and there is plenty of daylight left,” he says, standing. His advisors stand as well. “My lords,” he bids farewell to the other two and steps out.
“He is young,” Odin says. “Trying not to be the idiot tyrant that his brother was must be difficult for him.”
“Lot needs a good strong queen to keep him in line,” Creoda remarks. “But Cenred made the mistake of letting Morgause lead him around by his manhood, and if I were a betting man, my money would be on that being at least one of the reasons why he has yet to choose a wife.”
“He should learn by Arthur’s example. Look for a wife that he can love and trust instead of looking for one to forge an alliance. Worked out well for Arthur. Guinevere has proven to be a very good queen, even on her own,” Odin says.
“Yes, even holding a council up to the moment when her waters break,” Creoda chuckles. “Come. Let us see about some dinner and then find out about the child.”
The two kings walk to the doors together, and as Geoffrey gathers his things, he hears Creoda’s chuckling voice again.
“So then you only allied with Arthur because the other option was death?”
“Initially, but it did turn out to be a good decision. I was tired of all the vengeance…” Odin’s voice drifts off as the men depart.
xXx
“Gaius, you need to stay out!” the midwife orders, pushing the nosy physician back into the corridor with Leon and Percival.
“I will be right out here if you need me, Rose,” he calls as the door is slammed in his face.
From the other side of the door another loud groan reaches their ears. Gaius looks at Leon and Percival, finding them both looking very worried and rather pale.
“Brave strong knights, indeed,” he chuckles at them. “She is fine, boys. Yes, the baby is big, but she is strong and healthy.”
“He’s early, Gaius,” Leon says.
“He’s probably early because he is big. He wants out because he’s run out of room,” Gaius chuckles again. His head turns sharply at another groan, this time followed by an uncharacteristic curse, bringing a smile to the lips of all three men.
“Damn you, Arthur Pendragon!” Guinevere shouts, crouched over a strange chair with no seat, a loose gown covering her top half.
“They are closer together, my lady, that’s good,” the midwife says smoothly. Annis is seated beside and a little behind Gwen, holding her hand when she needs it, giving the young queen the support she wished she had gotten when she bore her own first child.
“Oh for the love of all that is sacred, you can call me Gwen!” she snaps, breathing heavily. “You’ve already got your face in my nethers, so you may as well address me by my given name!”
Annis bites back a laugh at this. The girl has a point, she cannot help thinking.
“Oh…” she squeezes Annis’ hand as another contraction hits her.
“Almost time to push, Gwen,” the midwife says, checking again.
“I’m already exhausted, Rose…” Gwen gasps, a tear escaping from her eye.
“You’re doing very well,” Annis assures her.
“He’s… the baby… I’m afraid… he’s too early… too big…”
“He not so early that we should be worried,” Rose assures her. “I have delivered babies earlier than this with no trouble at all.”
“And they lived? The babies?” Gwen asks.
“Yes,” Rose assures her. Almost always, she mentally adds, but knows better than to voice such a thing at this time.
Annis pats Gwen’s shoulders comfortingly. “He will be fine, and so will you,” she says. I notice she did not inquire if the mothers lived.
Gwen tenses up again as another wave comes, and the midwife ducks her head.
“Okay, Gwen, push this time.”
She bears down and pushes, hard, wanting this over as soon as humanly possible.
“Okay, stop,” Rose says, patting her leg.
Gwen growls with frustration. “How many children do you have, Annis?” she asks.
“Five,” Annis says, chuckling.
“I have a whole new level of respect for you nowowww…” Gwen’s words turn into another groan as she tenses and pushes again, finding that she feels compelled to do so now.
She pushes for what seems an eternity, but the child is stubborn and her small frame isn’t helping matters.
Finally, after one particularly loud and grueling push, Gwen slumps in the stool, her eyes closed, head to one side.
“Gwen?”
It is dark when Gwen opens her eyes, finding herself in the gateway. Alone.
“Guinevere,” Arthur’s voice floats from the darkness. Gwen jumps, startled. This is too similar to the dark tower. She finds herself looking upwards, eyes searching for dripping black mandrake roots. Finding none, she shakes her head to clear it.
“Arthur? Where are you?”
“Wake up and finish birthing our son, my love,” he says, his voice loving but firm.
“He’s too big,” she says, her voice breaking.
“You can do it. I am with you, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you or him.”
“But…” her words are cut off as she feels his soft kiss upon her lips, though she cannot see him.
“They tell me that our son is to be named Llacheu,” his voice again; this time it feels as though he is whispering close to her ear, and she shivers.
“Llacheu,” she repeats, whispering as well.
“Yes. I love you. Now wake up and bring my son into the world.”
Gwen stirs and blinks her eyes open as another contraction rips through her.
“Oh good, she’s back,” the midwife says, and Gwen feels something cool dab at her brow. “Push, Gwen.”
Gwen does, grunting with the effort in a most unladylike way.
“Almost there,” the midwife states when she stops.
“Three months have passed and that’s all I get?” Gwen mutters softly.
“Gwen?” Annis asks, puzzled. Gwen turns and sees that it is Queen Annis that has been mopping her brow with cool cloths.
“Oh, nothing,” she sighs. “Oh, no…” Another wave hits her and she pushes, screaming now, gripping the arms of the chair, her fingernails digging into the wood.
“One more!” Rose exclaims. “He’s halfway out!”
“Good, because I feel like… aaauurrgghhh!” she screams again, pushing with all her tiny might, and suddenly she feels a little better.
“I feel like I’ve been ripped in half,” she finishes, panting.
“Well perhaps this beautiful baby boy will be worth the effort,” Rose declares, clearing his mouth out. She hands him up to Gwen as his wails fill the air.
“Oh…” Gwen sighs, tears starting afresh as she takes the slippery, purple, squirming man into her arms. “He’s beautiful,” she says, her voice weak and hoarse.
“He is perfect,” Annis declares over her shoulder, noting ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. “And he is big,” she chuckles.
“One more push, my lady, and then we can move you to a more comfortable location,” the midwife instructs. “This should be an easy one, after that.”
Guinevere shushes her son and kisses his forehead, caring little about the fact that he is still covered in slippery wetness. She pushes obediently, delivering the afterbirth.
“Gods, that feels better,” she gasps, and Annis chuckles again.
“My lady, if I may have the prince, I will cut him free and clean him for you,” Rose asks, holding her hands out for the baby.
Two maids, older, experienced maids, attend Guinevere, cleaning her and re-dressing her before helping her back to her bed.
xXx
“My lady, Gaius would like to see the prince,” the midwife says. Gwen has been holding her son for several minutes now, gazing down at him, stroking his soft cheek, cooing and singing softly to him.
“Yes, all right,” she says. “Hand me that dressing gown,” she says to one of the maids, and the woman helps her into it. Gwen really doesn’t care, but knows she must cover her already-covered self for propriety’s sake.
Gaius rushes in now like an excited grandfather, and Gwen spies Leon and Percival peeking shyly in the door as well, unsure if they should enter.
“Tell them they can come in as well,” Gwen says. She would call to them herself, but her voice is half gone due to the beating it took during childbirth.
Annis goes and brings them in, taking each one by the hand as if they were her own sons.
“May I?” Gaius asks, holding his hands out.
“Of course, you may be the first to hold the prince. Well, after myself and Rose,” she smiles.
Gaius gazes down at the boy and cannot contain his gasp.
“Goodness,” Leon breathes over Gaius’ shoulder.
“Indeed,” Gaius agrees.
“What?” Percival asks.
“He is the copy of Arthur,” Gaius says quietly. “A slightly darker copy, but… I feel as though I have gone back in time.”
Percival peers over Gaius’ other shoulder, glancing at Gwen. Clearly she had already come to this conclusion on her own.
“I… kind of see it,” he mutters.
“It helps to have known Arthur as a boy,” Leon explains. “Trust me. The prince looks just like his father.”
“Guinevere, are you all right?” Gaius asks, knowing that having a tiny copy of her beloved husband could be painful as much as it could be wonderful.
“Yes, Gaius,” she says. “I’m… glad he looks so like Arthur. I think his hair may have some curl to it, though,” she points to the now-mostly-dry wisps covering his head.
Leon reaches down and delicately fingers a curl, smiling.
“I think this will effectively stop any question of parentage,” Gwen comments dryly, watching as Gaius sets the boy on the bed to examine him.
“People were questioning?” Annis asks, incensed.
“Not directly, of course,” Gwen says with a shrug. “But the implications were there.” She shifts a little, wincing slightly at a sharp twinge, low and deep inside her belly.
“Disgusting. No respect at all,” Annis says.
“I agree,” Leon says. “Disrespectful and ludicrous.”
“The prince appears to be healthy and strong, my lady,” Gaius declares. “What will you name him?”
“Gwen?” Percival asks, concerned, noticing that the queen seems to be very uncomfortable.
“Llacheu,” she says, closing her eyes. “His name is… Llacheu.”
“Gwen, are you all right?” Gaius hands the prince to Annis now, who takes him happily, but most of her attention is on Guinevere. She is sweating slightly and her cinnamon-colored skin has taken on a grayish tinge.
“I feel… strange,” she says, her eyes fluttering now. “Ow…” she moans softly, almost an afterthought.
“My lady?”
Part 6: link
Queen Guinevere,
I humbly beg your forgiveness for the tardiness of my condolences. I know it has been many months now since your beloved king has passed, and I apologize for not corresponding sooner. Many of Lady Morgana’s Saxons had fled into my kingdom, unfortunately, and I had a bit of a mess of my own to deal with.
That being said, I know the struggle of ruling a kingdom as a widow queen. I should very much like to pay you a visit in the near future and offer my condolences personally. As allies, we should remember to support one another during trying times. On a personal note, I remember being impressed by your kindness and intelligence when we first met, and I have been waiting for another opportunity to meet with you.
My messenger will await your reply.
Yours,
Queen Annis of Caerleon.
Gwen reads the message again. She lowers the parchment and looks at the young messenger boy. “Lily, please take this young man to the kitchens and see that he is given a bite to eat,” she says.
“Yes, my lady,” her maid answers, stepping down from her place behind the throne on the dais. “Follow me,” she says quietly.
“Anywhere,” the young man answers, and Gwen smiles at Lily’s blush.
She reads the parchment again. “Percival,” she says, and the knight steps over immediately.
“Yes, my lady?”
“How many scribes do we have?”
“Um, I do not know. Leon would know that…” he trails off. Of course it’s his turn to run training, he thinks ruefully.
“Never mind, it’s all right. I need four scribes. Get Geoffrey to help you, if necessary. Have them meet me in the Council Chambers after lunch, with parchment and ink.”
“Yes, my lady,” Percival nods, furrowing his brows a moment. What is she up to now?
xXx
“Four scribes, my lady?” Geoffrey inquires. “Why four?”
“Because I wish to write four identical messages, and this seems the most efficient way,” she explains simply. “Dictate once, all four write.”
“Faster than you writing one letter and having it copied,” Percival says, nodding.
“Precisely,” Gwen says, and sits. “Ready?”
The four men seated around her, two on either side, all nod, quills poised.
“First, you,” she indicates the one closest on her right, “address yours to Queen Annis. Yours, King Lot.” Then she looks to her left. “Yours is to King Odin, and yours, King Creoda.”
“My lady?” Geoffrey interrupts.
“Yes, Geoffrey, I am convening a meeting of the heads of the five kingdoms, very good,” she says. “May I proceed?”
“Yes, my lady. Sorry.”
She dictates her letters, slowly and carefully, giving the scribes enough time to write. “…I would like to convene in one months’ time, just before midsummer. I look forward to receiving your replies.”
“My lady,” Geoffrey interrupts again. “One month? Surely that would be, ah, inconvenient for you?” he asks, his eyes dropping to her now-rather-large stomach.
“Geoffrey, the midwife and Gaius both agree that my child will likely be born after midsummer. It will be fine,” she assures them.
She turns her attention back to the scribes, who are all looking at her, their faces expectant. “That’s all,” she says. “I will sign, and when the ink is dry, send the parchments to my quarters and I will seal them.”
The scribes nod, and Gwen reaches for the letter to Annis first. She takes the quill and before she signs her name, she adds a personal message.
Thank you for your kind message and I look forward to your visit. I feel I can learn a lot from you and am grateful for your friendship.
xXx
Gwen sits at the table in her chambers, turning the royal seal over and over in her fingers again, contemplating it, feeling the smooth metal between her fingers, tracing her thumb over the dragon embossed in the metal.
“My lady?” Leon calls softly from the open door.
“Amazing isn’t it? How something so small should wield such power,” she says absently.
“Indeed,” he agrees, stepping inside. A servant with a tray bearing the four parchments follows.
“Oh,” Leon says, slightly surprised when she places the seal on the table. She was talking about the royal seal. Of course she was.
Gwen puzzles at him a moment, but chooses to let it go, indicating that the servant should set the parchments on the table.
“Thank you,” she says, and the servant nods and leaves, smiling a little at how their queen still never forgets to thank any servant for any service.
“Arthur would be proud of you, you know,” Leon says suddenly.
“I know,” she answers as her practiced fingers melt the wax over the edge of the parchment, sealing the first message perfectly. “Sit with me a moment, Leon.”
“You are very good at that, my lady,” he observes, sitting. “Every time I try, I make a complete pig’s ear of it.”
“Arthur was never very good at it, either,” Gwen sighs. “Most of the time I sealed his correspondences for him.” She seals the next one, and suddenly starts to chuckle.
“My lady?” Leon inquires, confused.
“A thought just occurred to me,” she says, reaching for the next message. “Uther.”
“Uther?” Leon asks. “I can think of few people less amusing than Uther.”
“Well,” she says, pressing the seal into the soft wax for the third time, “if you think about the fact that Uther’s precious kingdom is now being run solely by the lowly maidservant who he deemed beneath both himself and his son…”
“I suppose you have a point,” Leon says, chuckling a little himself now.
“And here I sit, carrying his grandson, no less.”
“Or granddaughter,” Leon says.
“Oh, yes, of course it could be a girl, you’re right,” she allows out of courtesy, though she knows the child to be a boy.
“You’re probably right, though, I’m sure that Uther is positively fuming in whatever corner of purgatory he currently resides,” Leon says, his voice surprisingly harsh.
“Leon, I am surprised at your tone!” Gwen says, but she is not scolding him. “You were always the most loyal of knights.” She finishes sealing the last message and sets all four back on the tray.
“I did not condone many things Uther did, to be honest,” Leon admits. “I always found his treatment of you, in particular, to be unnecessarily harsh. Especially after that business with your father.”
“Thank you,” she says softly.
“And your ability to take care of Uther when his health had failed him, despite all he had done…”
“I did that for Arthur. Because I loved Arthur, I would care for his father. He did not want to ask it of me, but he knew he could trust me,” Gwen says, her voice still soft.
“Perhaps in the spirit world, Arthur will be able to make Uther see that he made the right choice when he married you,” Leon says.
“Arthur is… not in the same realm as Uther,” Gwen says, her hand unconsciously fingering her crystal now. “Uther is in the spirit world. Arthur is in Avalon.”
“I’m confused.”
“Merlin,” Gwen says by way of explanation. “Merlin sent Arthur’s body to Avalon, and that is where his spirit is now. It’s, um, set apart. Probably a good thing they’re not in the same place,” she adds, her mind drifting once again to Uther’s unleashed spirit and how much his actions upset Arthur.
“That crystal,” Leon says, noticing her habit of late of toying with it when she is lost in thought, “where did you get it?”
Should I tell him? Tell him that Arthur sometimes visits me while I sleep? If anyone can accept this knowledge, it would be Leon.
“Merlin gave it to me after Arthur died, the first time he returned,” she says. “It is Arthur’s heart.”
“It symbolizes Arthur’s heart, you mean?” he asks, quirking his head to the side.
“Yes. Sorry, yes, it is a symbol of his heart,” she agrees, decided to keep the dreams to herself for now.
“If my opinion counts for anything, my lady, Arthur was correct to pass this kingdom to you. You’re doing very well.”
“Of course your opinion counts, Leon,” Gwen says, picking a speck of wax off the seal and replacing it in her pocket. “And thank you, but I could not do what I do without your help,” she says, placing her hand over his for just a moment.
“I’ll just… take these to the messengers, then,” Leon says, standing quickly and reaching for the tray.
“Annis’ messenger is still about,” Gwen tells him. “He was instructed to wait for a reply.”
“I will look for him,” Leon nods and heads for the door.
“Look for my maid, Lily; he’s probably trailing after her like a lost puppy,” Gwen chuckles.
xXx
A month later, Gwen is standing in the courtyard between Leon and Percival, her hands tucked into each man’s elbow. King Odin’s party had been spotted and so Queen Guinevere came out to meet them.
“I always feel very short when I am standing in between the two of you,” Gwen mutters.
“That’s because you are very short, Gwen,” Percival answers, just as dryly. Leon shoots him a warning glare over the queen’s head, but she is laughing, so Percival returns the glare with a smug look of amusement.
Odin’s party enters the courtyard and Gwen squeezes Leon’s elbow. He and Percival escort the queen down the stairs to greet her visitor.
“Queen Guinevere,” Odin greets her, holding his hand out. She places hers in it and he kisses her hand respectfully.
“Welcome, King Odin,” she says, smiling at him.
“Ah, so the rumors are indeed true,” he says, smiling down at her, “Camelot does have an heir on the way.”
“Indeed, my lord, this is not a pumpkin under my gown,” she says, patting her stomach lightly. “Though it may be as big as one.”
“My lady, the tales of your beauty do not do you justice,” Odin assures her.
“Thank you, my lord. You of course remember Sir Leon and Sir Percival,” she indicates her security detail.
“Welcome, your highness,” Leon says. He turns and waves to a servant.
“Thank you,” Gwen says to Leon. When the servant reaches them, she turns back to Odin. “King Odin, this is George, one of our finest servants. As I must stay out here to greet our other visitors, he will show you to your rooms and will also attend you during your stay. George?”
“It is an honor and a privilege, my lady,” George says, his clipped and efficient manner intact as always. “Sire, if you would but follow me,” he addresses Odin, reaching for the king’s satchel.
“George will see you to the meeting at the appointed time,” Gwen says.
“Thank you, my lady,” Odin says. He seems impressed with George, and Gwen is glad that she chose him for this task. She knows that relations with Odin are still a trifle strained, and is eager to impress upon him that he is welcome here.
He did seem more relaxed than I expected, she thinks.
Odin’s party disperses. Horses stabled, people given rooms. A short time later Queen Annis’ group appears.
“Annis,” Gwen greets the queen, embracing the other woman warmly once her feet were on the ground.
“Gwen, it is lovely to see you again,” Annis smiles. “Sir Leon, Sir Percival” she adds, nodding at the knights.
“My lady,” the two men chorus, both impressed at her skill for names.
“I see that you are well-protected,” Annis chuckles. “I must say, when I last saw Arthur you were not along, and I was saddened by your absence.”
“Ah, well, it was not a pleasure trip, as you know,” Gwen answers. “But Arthur did relay your warm regards when he returned. Once he remembered.”
“And how are you, dear? Are you well? And the babe?”
“We are both well, thank you. He’s a big one, as you can see,” she smiles. “I still grieve for Arthur, of course, but I have so much to do here that it at least keeps my mind occupied. Most of the time.”
“I know, Gwen,” Annis says, patting Gwen’s hand. The child has dropped already, she notes.
“Ah, you remember Evelyn?” Gwen indicates the maid who has just approached them.
“Yes, of course, she attended me on my last visit, and did a fine job,” Annis says, nodding as the girl curtseys.
“I am still awaiting King Lot and King Creoda, so Evelyn will be showing you to your rooms,” Gwen says.
“Thank you, Gwen. I look forward to talking with you more later,” Annis answers, following the servant up to the castle.
King Lot arrives next, Cenred’s brother. Luckily he does not share the same twisted megalomania that his older brother had, and has proven a good ally as well as being polite and respectful to the queen.
“My lady, it is a pleasure to see you again,” Lot says, kissing her hand. He is young, close to Arthur’s age, and shares some of his brother’s darkly handsome physical traits.
He looks a little like Gwaine, actually, Gwen notes as she introduces him to his assigned servant, Kirby. “I am awaiting only King Creoda of Mercia,” she tells him. “The others have arrived already.”
“Thank you, my lady,” he nods, smiling warmly.
“Have you met Creoda?” Leon asks while they wait.
“No,” Gwen says. “But I had never met Odin before, either, and he was quite pleasant.”
“Creoda is old and… traditional. I just hope that he is not…”
“Like Uther,” Percival finishes.
“We shall see,” Gwen sighs. “I’m quite used to dealing with that sort of behavior, as you know.”
“I am well aware,” Leon says, “But I am allowed to be concerned for you, my lady.”
“That is part of your job description,” she answers, smirking. The party from Mercia enters the courtyard and Gwen schools her features into something more regal.
“King Creoda, welcome to Camelot,” she says, her voice steady and firm.
The king dismounts and looks down at Gwen, stroking his grey goatee thoughtfully. He is a large man, heavy but still powerful-looking. “Queen Guinevere,” he finally says, “I am pleased to finally make your acquaintance.” He holds out his hand and she places hers in it again. He kisses her knuckles, his beard coarse against her skin.
“And I, yours, Sire. I thank you for your earlier message of condolence for the loss of my husband,” she nods.
“You are most welcome, my lady, and I daresay it appears that the young king did not leave you completely on your own,” he says.
“Oh, forgive me, yes, may I present Sir Leon and Sir Percival, my guard captains and personal bodyguards,” she introduces her knights.
“Good sirs, I see you are indeed loyal to your queen,” he nods. “But I was not referring to them, my lady,” Creoda says, his eyes twinkling now as they fall on her large stomach.
“Oh! That. Well, yes, I guess that’s correct as well,” she says, blushing slightly.
Creoda laughs now, and Gwen cannot help but relax. “My lord, you are the last to arrive,” she informs him. “Marcus will be attending you during your stay; he will show you to your rooms.”
“Ah, very good,” he says, offering his arm to Gwen. “My lady, if I may have the honor?” he asks, glancing at Leon.
“Thank you,” Gwen says, taking the king’s arm and allowing him to escort her to the castle.
“I hope you have not been standing out here very long,” he says. “You should not be on your feet very much.”
“Thank you for your concern, but I am well,” she says. “How many children do you have, my lord?” she asks, quite confident that he does indeed have children from his demeanor with her.
“Seven,” he declares proudly.
“Oh, my!” Gwen cannot help but exclaim, inwardly thinking His poor wife!
Creoda just chuckles again, and Gwen decides that he is nothing like Uther at all.
xXx
“Thank you all for coming,” Gwen says, looking around the Round Table at her guests and their advisors. She felt the Table would be a good place to hold a meeting such as this, giving no man or woman more import than another. “Since you all know each other already, we will dispense with formalities like introductions, unless anyone has any objection?”
“None, my lady, I daresay you are the only newcomer to this group,” King Creoda says.
“True,” Gwen says, smiling and nodding.
“But we were all acquainted with your late husband, and held him in high regard,” Annis ventures, sneaking a glance at Odin, whose face is impassive but not stony. “And I, for one, know that he valued your counsel above all others and that you are a wise and compassionate person.”
“Thank you, Queen Annis,” Gwen says. She pauses a moment and shifts in her seat as if she is slightly uncomfortable, but then presses on. “Down to business, then…”
Alliances are discussed. Border disputes settled, surprisingly amicably. Finally, unification is brought up, by Odin of all people.
“Queen Guinevere,” he sighs, “we all know why we are really here, so why not get down to it, shall we?”
“Very well, King Odin. I must commend you on your no-nonsense approach to matters,” she says, a half-smile playing at the corner of her mouth for a moment before it drops and she furrows her brow a moment.
“Unification,” she says after a moment. “Our kingdoms are all strong, prospering. Healthy. But united, we will be…” Gwen pauses, blinking, taking a breath, “even stronger. This was the goal my husband was working towards, and I wish to fulfill that goal.”
There are murmurs of general agreement around the table. Queen Annis is strangely quiet, watching Gwen carefully. Annis glances at Creoda and notes that he, too, is watching the young queen with interest.
“I think I need to stand,” Gwen mutters, and in moments Percival is at her side, his hand extended.
“Are you all right, Gwen?” he asks softly as he helps her to her feet.
“Yes,” she assures him. “Baby is just… active today, that’s all.”
Gwen turns to face the others again. “Now…” she starts and stops immediately, eyes wide. “Um…”
Queen Annis stands now. “My lords, I believe we will need to reconvene this council in a few months’ time,” she says quickly.
“Whatever for?” King Lot asks, looking between the two women.
“Because if you would open your eyes and see what is before you, Queen Guinevere is going to bear her child, and soon,” Annis snaps, addressing the king as if she is scolding a disobedient child.
The three kings at the table suddenly look very uncomfortable.
“Percival…” Gwen holds her hand out to the knight and he takes it, pulling her to his side, supporting her. She grips his hand tightly a moment, her eyes squeezing shut.
“Ow,” Percival says, more surprised than actually injured, looking down at the surprisingly powerful grip of the queen’s hand on his.
She loosens her grip. “Leon,” she looks at Leon and he nods, understanding what she needs him to do.
“You are all welcome to stay the night if you so choose,” he steps forward and addresses them. He glances back to see Percival and Gwen stop another moment and then Percival stoops and lifts her into his arms before continuing to the door. He also just barely hears Percival mutter something that sounds like, “Come on, Little Bird, let’s get you to your room, then.”
“I’m going with them,” Annis tells Leon and scurries after them. Leon can only nod.
“Dinner will be provided, and you may stay or go as you will,” he finishes. “If you will excuse me, I have a physician and a midwife to summon.” And with that, he all but runs from the room.
The three remaining kings and their advisors sit and stare at one another for a moment.
“Why would Queen Guinevere invite us for a council if she knew her babe was going to be born?” Lot finally says, sounding mildly insulted.
“Lot, you do not have any children,” Odin says, looking at the younger man.
“Well, no. I have yet to take a wife, in fact.”
“No one can predict when a child decides to come into this world. The best anyone can do is guess. Especially with a first-born. It is up to the babe. And until someone discovers a way to ask him, we are at his tiny mercy,” he says.
“I daresay young Guinevere did not even fully realize what was happening,” Creoda chuckles, leaning back in his seat. “But surely her wizard friend could have predicted…” he muses.
“Creoda, have you not noticed?” Lot says. “Her wizard friend is not here.”
“Well, I don’t know what he looks like,” he humphs petulantly, crossing his arms across his barrel-like chest. “I had actually been hoping to meet him.”
“I have seen this young man,” Odin says quietly. “He was Arthur’s manservant. He saved my life.”
“What?” Creoda asks. “How did Arthur’s servant save your life?”
“He stopped Arthur from killing me,” Odin answers, still softly. “I’d never seen anything like it. It didn’t strike me at the time, the oddity of it, because I had a sword to my throat, but… this servant was more like an advisor to Arthur.” He pauses again. “Arthur had his sword to my throat, as I said. And the servant… what was his name?”
“Merlin,” a voice tells them. They look over to see Geoffrey still sitting at the table, making final notes and organizing parchments.
“Thank you,” Odin says. “Merlin stayed his hand. Stopped him. Made him think about what he was doing, consider another alternative.”
“So you’re telling me that the great King Arthur, known for his arrogance and his prowess in battle, was swayed by the words of his manservant?” Creoda asks, trying to get a handle on the situation.
“Merlin was more than a servant to Arthur,” Geoffrey pipes up again, looking at the men over steepled fingers.
“Oh, I see,” Lot says, implication plain in his voice.
“Lot, do not be crass,” Creoda snaps.
“Merlin was Arthur’s friend,” Geoffrey continues smoothly, ever unflappable. “Surely you know as kings yourself what a rare commodity a friend is. A true friend.”
They all nod, somewhat sadly.
“There were only two people whom King Arthur trusted above all others. Queen Guinevere and Merlin,” Geoffrey finishes.
“Would that we were all so lucky,” Odin says.
“I believe this Merlin has been in my kingdom recently,” Lot says, thinking. “From what I hear, his mother lives in the village of Ealdor, on the edge of my kingdom.”
“She does,” Geoffrey confirms.
“I had reports of a lone young man wandering, thin and pale with dark hair, often muttering to himself. He spent some time in Ealdor, then was on his way again, heading west. He always managed to evade any patrols, and they were always very confused by it. Then someone pointed out that he surely must be the young sorcerer.”
“Why does he wander so?” Creoda wonders. “Surely the queen would welcome him in Camelot, especially now that magic is no longer illegal here.”
“Our court physician, Gaius, was Merlin’s guardian here,” Geoffrey tells them. “He told me recently that Merlin’s purpose in life, his destiny, was to serve Arthur. To help him become the great king he was destined to be.”
“Ah,” Lot says. “He feels he has failed?”
Geoffrey nods. “That is one of the reasons why it is so important to Guinevere that she continue Arthur’s work. Merlin is her friend as well, you know. Gaius and Guinevere have both made mention of the fact that while it is too painful for Merlin to remain here, he does not know what to do or where to go now. He wanders because he is lost.”
“That must be very difficult,” Creoda mutters, scratching his short gray beard with his hand thoughtfully. “Are you staying?” he asks the other two.
“I may. I should like to see the child, perhaps,” Odin muses.
“Odin, I did not realize you were so softhearted,” Creoda says, raising an eyebrow.
“What of it?”
“Nothing, my lord, it is merely surprising, that’s all. Lot?”
“I’ll be heading out presently. My kingdom is not far, and there is plenty of daylight left,” he says, standing. His advisors stand as well. “My lords,” he bids farewell to the other two and steps out.
“He is young,” Odin says. “Trying not to be the idiot tyrant that his brother was must be difficult for him.”
“Lot needs a good strong queen to keep him in line,” Creoda remarks. “But Cenred made the mistake of letting Morgause lead him around by his manhood, and if I were a betting man, my money would be on that being at least one of the reasons why he has yet to choose a wife.”
“He should learn by Arthur’s example. Look for a wife that he can love and trust instead of looking for one to forge an alliance. Worked out well for Arthur. Guinevere has proven to be a very good queen, even on her own,” Odin says.
“Yes, even holding a council up to the moment when her waters break,” Creoda chuckles. “Come. Let us see about some dinner and then find out about the child.”
The two kings walk to the doors together, and as Geoffrey gathers his things, he hears Creoda’s chuckling voice again.
“So then you only allied with Arthur because the other option was death?”
“Initially, but it did turn out to be a good decision. I was tired of all the vengeance…” Odin’s voice drifts off as the men depart.
xXx
“Gaius, you need to stay out!” the midwife orders, pushing the nosy physician back into the corridor with Leon and Percival.
“I will be right out here if you need me, Rose,” he calls as the door is slammed in his face.
From the other side of the door another loud groan reaches their ears. Gaius looks at Leon and Percival, finding them both looking very worried and rather pale.
“Brave strong knights, indeed,” he chuckles at them. “She is fine, boys. Yes, the baby is big, but she is strong and healthy.”
“He’s early, Gaius,” Leon says.
“He’s probably early because he is big. He wants out because he’s run out of room,” Gaius chuckles again. His head turns sharply at another groan, this time followed by an uncharacteristic curse, bringing a smile to the lips of all three men.
“Damn you, Arthur Pendragon!” Guinevere shouts, crouched over a strange chair with no seat, a loose gown covering her top half.
“They are closer together, my lady, that’s good,” the midwife says smoothly. Annis is seated beside and a little behind Gwen, holding her hand when she needs it, giving the young queen the support she wished she had gotten when she bore her own first child.
“Oh for the love of all that is sacred, you can call me Gwen!” she snaps, breathing heavily. “You’ve already got your face in my nethers, so you may as well address me by my given name!”
Annis bites back a laugh at this. The girl has a point, she cannot help thinking.
“Oh…” she squeezes Annis’ hand as another contraction hits her.
“Almost time to push, Gwen,” the midwife says, checking again.
“I’m already exhausted, Rose…” Gwen gasps, a tear escaping from her eye.
“You’re doing very well,” Annis assures her.
“He’s… the baby… I’m afraid… he’s too early… too big…”
“He not so early that we should be worried,” Rose assures her. “I have delivered babies earlier than this with no trouble at all.”
“And they lived? The babies?” Gwen asks.
“Yes,” Rose assures her. Almost always, she mentally adds, but knows better than to voice such a thing at this time.
Annis pats Gwen’s shoulders comfortingly. “He will be fine, and so will you,” she says. I notice she did not inquire if the mothers lived.
Gwen tenses up again as another wave comes, and the midwife ducks her head.
“Okay, Gwen, push this time.”
She bears down and pushes, hard, wanting this over as soon as humanly possible.
“Okay, stop,” Rose says, patting her leg.
Gwen growls with frustration. “How many children do you have, Annis?” she asks.
“Five,” Annis says, chuckling.
“I have a whole new level of respect for you nowowww…” Gwen’s words turn into another groan as she tenses and pushes again, finding that she feels compelled to do so now.
She pushes for what seems an eternity, but the child is stubborn and her small frame isn’t helping matters.
Finally, after one particularly loud and grueling push, Gwen slumps in the stool, her eyes closed, head to one side.
“Gwen?”
It is dark when Gwen opens her eyes, finding herself in the gateway. Alone.
“Guinevere,” Arthur’s voice floats from the darkness. Gwen jumps, startled. This is too similar to the dark tower. She finds herself looking upwards, eyes searching for dripping black mandrake roots. Finding none, she shakes her head to clear it.
“Arthur? Where are you?”
“Wake up and finish birthing our son, my love,” he says, his voice loving but firm.
“He’s too big,” she says, her voice breaking.
“You can do it. I am with you, I promise. I won’t let anything happen to you or him.”
“But…” her words are cut off as she feels his soft kiss upon her lips, though she cannot see him.
“They tell me that our son is to be named Llacheu,” his voice again; this time it feels as though he is whispering close to her ear, and she shivers.
“Llacheu,” she repeats, whispering as well.
“Yes. I love you. Now wake up and bring my son into the world.”
Gwen stirs and blinks her eyes open as another contraction rips through her.
“Oh good, she’s back,” the midwife says, and Gwen feels something cool dab at her brow. “Push, Gwen.”
Gwen does, grunting with the effort in a most unladylike way.
“Almost there,” the midwife states when she stops.
“Three months have passed and that’s all I get?” Gwen mutters softly.
“Gwen?” Annis asks, puzzled. Gwen turns and sees that it is Queen Annis that has been mopping her brow with cool cloths.
“Oh, nothing,” she sighs. “Oh, no…” Another wave hits her and she pushes, screaming now, gripping the arms of the chair, her fingernails digging into the wood.
“One more!” Rose exclaims. “He’s halfway out!”
“Good, because I feel like… aaauurrgghhh!” she screams again, pushing with all her tiny might, and suddenly she feels a little better.
“I feel like I’ve been ripped in half,” she finishes, panting.
“Well perhaps this beautiful baby boy will be worth the effort,” Rose declares, clearing his mouth out. She hands him up to Gwen as his wails fill the air.
“Oh…” Gwen sighs, tears starting afresh as she takes the slippery, purple, squirming man into her arms. “He’s beautiful,” she says, her voice weak and hoarse.
“He is perfect,” Annis declares over her shoulder, noting ten tiny fingers and ten tiny toes. “And he is big,” she chuckles.
“One more push, my lady, and then we can move you to a more comfortable location,” the midwife instructs. “This should be an easy one, after that.”
Guinevere shushes her son and kisses his forehead, caring little about the fact that he is still covered in slippery wetness. She pushes obediently, delivering the afterbirth.
“Gods, that feels better,” she gasps, and Annis chuckles again.
“My lady, if I may have the prince, I will cut him free and clean him for you,” Rose asks, holding her hands out for the baby.
Two maids, older, experienced maids, attend Guinevere, cleaning her and re-dressing her before helping her back to her bed.
xXx
“My lady, Gaius would like to see the prince,” the midwife says. Gwen has been holding her son for several minutes now, gazing down at him, stroking his soft cheek, cooing and singing softly to him.
“Yes, all right,” she says. “Hand me that dressing gown,” she says to one of the maids, and the woman helps her into it. Gwen really doesn’t care, but knows she must cover her already-covered self for propriety’s sake.
Gaius rushes in now like an excited grandfather, and Gwen spies Leon and Percival peeking shyly in the door as well, unsure if they should enter.
“Tell them they can come in as well,” Gwen says. She would call to them herself, but her voice is half gone due to the beating it took during childbirth.
Annis goes and brings them in, taking each one by the hand as if they were her own sons.
“May I?” Gaius asks, holding his hands out.
“Of course, you may be the first to hold the prince. Well, after myself and Rose,” she smiles.
Gaius gazes down at the boy and cannot contain his gasp.
“Goodness,” Leon breathes over Gaius’ shoulder.
“Indeed,” Gaius agrees.
“What?” Percival asks.
“He is the copy of Arthur,” Gaius says quietly. “A slightly darker copy, but… I feel as though I have gone back in time.”
Percival peers over Gaius’ other shoulder, glancing at Gwen. Clearly she had already come to this conclusion on her own.
“I… kind of see it,” he mutters.
“It helps to have known Arthur as a boy,” Leon explains. “Trust me. The prince looks just like his father.”
“Guinevere, are you all right?” Gaius asks, knowing that having a tiny copy of her beloved husband could be painful as much as it could be wonderful.
“Yes, Gaius,” she says. “I’m… glad he looks so like Arthur. I think his hair may have some curl to it, though,” she points to the now-mostly-dry wisps covering his head.
Leon reaches down and delicately fingers a curl, smiling.
“I think this will effectively stop any question of parentage,” Gwen comments dryly, watching as Gaius sets the boy on the bed to examine him.
“People were questioning?” Annis asks, incensed.
“Not directly, of course,” Gwen says with a shrug. “But the implications were there.” She shifts a little, wincing slightly at a sharp twinge, low and deep inside her belly.
“Disgusting. No respect at all,” Annis says.
“I agree,” Leon says. “Disrespectful and ludicrous.”
“The prince appears to be healthy and strong, my lady,” Gaius declares. “What will you name him?”
“Gwen?” Percival asks, concerned, noticing that the queen seems to be very uncomfortable.
“Llacheu,” she says, closing her eyes. “His name is… Llacheu.”
“Gwen, are you all right?” Gaius hands the prince to Annis now, who takes him happily, but most of her attention is on Guinevere. She is sweating slightly and her cinnamon-colored skin has taken on a grayish tinge.
“I feel… strange,” she says, her eyes fluttering now. “Ow…” she moans softly, almost an afterthought.
“My lady?”
Part 6: link