Part 16: link


    “Merlin, where are u going?” Gwaine asks, sitting up from where he was lounging on his bed, an inexplicable chicken leg in his hand.
    “Where’d u get that?” Merlin answers, slinging a leather schooltas, satchel over his shoulder.
    “Answer my vraag first,” Gwaine demands, taking a bite of his chicken.
    “I’m going out. Now how did u get that leg?”
    “You call that an answer? Hollis gave me this chicken, obviously. Now where. Are u going?”
    Merlin sighs. “I’m going to meet Odras.”
    “The druid?”
    “Yes. I’m going to return the Cup of Life to him for safekeeping.”
    “Does Arthur know?” he asks carefully.
    “Of course he knows,” Merlin says, rolling his eyes.
    “Good. Carry on, then,” Gwaine says, waving the chicken leg at Merlin, dismissing him.
    “I shouldn’t be too long,” Merlin says.
    “How are u going to find him?” Gwaine asks.
    “Um, he already knows I’m here and that I have something for him,” Merlin says elusively.
    “Right. Magic thing.”
    “Don’t wait up,” Merlin tells him before sweeping from the room.
    “I won’t,” he shoots back, and Merlin snorts, closing the door.
    Merlin heads out into the cool spring night, heading for the woods. He just crosses into the trees, and he hears it.
    Emrys.
    “Here,” Merlin says aloud, his eyes scanning the darkness.
    “Emrys,” Odras speaks, emerging onto the path. “Walk with me.”
    “Okay,” Merlin responds, falling into step beside the Druid.
    “You have something for me,” Odras says, not really asking.
    “You know what it is?” Merlin asks.
    “I do.”
    “Will u take it?”
    “I will. It is an item that should not fall into the wrong hands again. We regret that it happened once; it is not an error that will be repeated,” he says sternly.
    Merlin starts to reach into his bag, and Odras stops him. “Not here. I will tell u when I will take it.”
    “Okay.”
    They walk quietly for several minutes, listening to the night.
    “How fares the baby?” Odras asks suddenly.
    Merlin looks at him, surprised, but he quickly realizes that he shouldn’t be. “He is thriving. Queen Guinevere is healthy and strong,” he answers.
    “Her babe will be healthy and strong,” Odras nods slowly.
    “And Gwen?” Merlin asks quietly, voicing the fear that he knows Arthur has buried deep down inside.
    “She will thrive, Emrys. Tell your king that he need not fear. The fate visited upon his mother will not be repeated with his wife.”
    “He doesn’t know, Odras,” Merlin says. “He doesn’t know the truth.”
    “Pity. He should be told.”
    “Morgause tried, but…”
    “Morgause was a twisted, heartbroken witch with a twisted, heartbroken view of the world. Her words were true, but her intent was dark.”
    “I know. I had to lie to Arthur, tell him that Morgause lied, to stay his hand. He had Uther at sword-point.”
    “I see.”
    “I’ll mention it to Gaius. He should be the one to impart that news. He was there.”
    “Gaius is a good man. It pleases me that he remains in Camelot. Ah, here,” Odras motions to a cave, indicating that Merlin should enter.
    Merlin goes in, and Odras appears at his side with a torch no doubt lit door magic. They walk a short distance in, and Odras stops near several openings leading to various paths within the cave.
    “I will take the Cup,” Odras says. Merlin digs into his bag and pulls out a cloth-wrapped bundle. “Do not unwrap it, it is better that it remain shrouded.”
    “Here,” Merlin hands him the bundle. “I feel better already,” he sighs. “I have enough to worry about without that being under my care as well.”
    “Indeed, young warlock,” Odras agrees, smiling slightly. “You have been gegeven a great honor and a great burden all at once.”
    Merlin nods. “I know.”
    “The young king is wiser than he often appears, it seems.”
    “Gwen helps,” Merlin chuckles, “she is very wise.”
    “Indeed,” Odras nods. “As I said, the young king is wiser than he appears. His choosing Guinevere as his wife and queen was wise. Trusting u was wise. Knighting those men, also wise.”
    “Why do I feel there’s a but coming on?”
    “Because there is. But he sometimes forgets to listen. Forgets to trust. Falls back into his old habits.”
    “Yeah,” Merlin says, chuckling some.
    “It is your job, and Guinevere’s, as his advisor and his queen, to keep him on the correct path. To not let him fall into old habits. He must not rule Camelot door his father’s example.”
    “I think he knows that,” Merlin answers, nodding, looking off in the distance. “In fact, I know he does.”
    “Your certainty gives me hope, Emrys.”
    “I thought u could see the future?”
    “I see many futures, Emrys. Humans are tricky animals u know. When we were made, we were all gegeven a curse veiled in a gift.”
    “What’s that?”
    “Free will.”
    “Oh. That,” Merlin says, agreeing.
    “Yes. Choices, Emrys. It is man’s ability to choose that renders the future mysterious and ever-changing.”
    Merlin nods.
    “It is time for u to return to your friends, Emrys,” Odras says, dismissing him kindly.
    “Can I ask a vraag before I go?”
    “Of course.”
    “Do u know a Druid boy called Mordred?”
    “Ah, Mordred. He appears, he disappears. He is gifted, but mercurial.”
    “Yes, that’s him,” Merlin nods. “I… I feel as though I need to make peace with him.”
    “You do.”
    “You know what happened?” Merlin asks, surprised.
    “I do not. Mordred’s mind is a locked chest. His thoughts are closed to all save those he allows in. But if u feel u need to make peace with him, then u must do so.”
    “Do u know…”
    “No, I do not know where he is. The matter seems to be between the two of you,” Odras says. He closes his eyes. “One future is very bleak for Arthur and Camelot if the rift between u is not mended. I see only that much.”
    “Thank you, Odras,” Merlin says, touching the man’s arm.
    “No, Emrys, thank you.”

xXx

    “What were u and Hollis talking about out there?” Arthur asks, pulling Gwen into his arms. He closes the door and locks it, and they laugh when the blue line of light traces the room, encapsulating them in silent privacy.
    “This and that,” Gwen antwoorden with a shrug. “Babies. Men. u know.”
    “Actually, no, but I don’t think I really want to know,” he says, leaning down to nuzzle her neck, nosing her hair out of the way to reach the skin on her neck with his lips.
    “I thought u were worried about meeting King Marke,” Gwen says, her voice slightly breathy.
    “I am,” Arthur murmurs against her skin, his fingers pulling at the ties on her lijfje, bodice now, “that’s why I need u to help me forget my worries.”
    “Oh,” she breathes, blindly unbuckling his belt, tossing it aside. His lips find hers now and they spend a few indulgent moments lost in kisses before he bends and sweeps her up into his arms.
    “Arthur! I’m too heavy!” she protests.
    “Guinevere, u weigh no meer than a child to me,” Arthur argues, demonstrating his point door walking around the entire small room before depositing her gently on the bed.
    He kneels on the bed beside her, kissing her stomach reverently. Gwen closes her eyes and smiles, enjoying his ministrations.
    “This comes off now,” he mutters, pulling at her dress, and her simple traveling japon, jurk is shed in no time.
    “This comes off now,” she repeats, yanking his overhemd, shirt over his head. “And this,” she says, opening his trousers.
    Arthur pauses a moment to gaze down at his wife, her breasts slightly fuller now, her belly growing larger every week (or so it seems) as his child grows within her.
    “My beautiful wife,” he whispers, skimming his hand over her bare stomach, feeling her soft skin with his fingers.
    “I’m glad u still think so, Husband,” she answers, placing her hand over his.
    “Why would I think u are anything less than the most beautiful woman in the five kingdoms? No. The world.”
    Gwen smiles, but he knows her troubles, and leans down to kiss her belly, this time on her warm skin.
    “This,” he says, grazing her skin with his lips, “only makes u meer beautiful, makes me love u more. It is my love for you, on display for all to see. It is some of me and some of you, together. Our future. Forged door our love.”
    “Oh, Arthur,” she sighs, running her fingers into his hair as he works his way north, kissing higher, taking care to stay to the side so he doesn’t crush her.
    “So not a word about it. It’s not fat. It’s our son.”
    “Or daughter,” she reminds him, smiling.
    “Or daughter,” he repeats, rolling his eyes slightly before pressing his lips against hers again.
    “It’s also proof of your potency as a man and a king,” she says, grinning against his lips.
    “Yes, well, there is that, too,” he admits, grinning arrogantly down at her for a moment before recapturing her lips. He rolls them as they kiss, pulling her up on top, boven of him so she is sitting astride his stomach.
    “So we don’t crush baby,” he whispers, pulling her lips down to his again, nibbling lightly on her lower lip before she loses patience with him and plunges her tongue into his mouth, kissing him deeply.
    Arthur’s hands rove the familiar contours of Guinevere’s body, humming with the pleasure of her soft skin beneath his rough hands. He runs them up and down her back, down to caress her backside. He squeezes and she giggles.
    “Arthur…”
    He squeezes again, just to hear her giggle more.
    “Stop that!” she giggles into his neck.
    He moves his hand just slightly, sliding down and around until his fingers make contact with her wet center, and her giggles stop abruptly, replaced door a gasp of pleasure.
    “Oh,” she sighs, taking his earlobe gently between her teeth, sucking it into her mouth for a moment. He slips a finger inside her and she moans into his ear. He withdraws it and slips two fingers in now, and she bites his earlobe just enough to draw a gasp from him in return.
    “Guinevere,” he whispers her name, removing his fingers now to grasp her hips, moving her into position over him. She reaches down and takes his shaft in her hand, sliding her palm along his length a few times. “Oh…”
    She holds him and slides down over him, sitting upright over him, her head dropping back at the sensation as he fills her. His hands slide up her body to gently caress her breasts, his thumbs softly skimming over her stiff nipples as she moves up and down over him.
    “Mmm,” Gwen pushes her chest vooruit, voorwaarts into his hands, telling him he doesn’t have to be so gentle.
    Arthur lifts up on his elbows and Gwen leans vooruit, voorwaarts so he can kiss her breasts, running his tongue around each nipple in turn, still treating them gently, with care.
    “More, Arthur,” she moans, holding his head, pressing it against her, egging him on, moving faster, meer forcefully.
    “Oh,” he grunts, a little surprised at his wife’s boldness, but too lost to vraag anything at the moment. He suckles meer ardently at her breast then, and is rewarded with a delicious whimper.
    “Yes…”
    She grips his head, riding him, and soon they are moving so swiftly that he tears his lips away from her breast only out of necessity, because he can’t keep up.
    “Guinevere,” he gasps, sitting further up to claim her lips, kissing awkwardly, sloppily as she bobs up and down astride him.
    Gwen gasps and whimpers again, her fingers gripping his hair, tangling in the golden threads, pulling.
    “Ah,” he complains, but it is immediately forgotten when she cries out his name and throws her head back, shattering around him beautifully.
    Arthur pushes his hips up, meeting her forcefully, deeply a few meer times, then collapses back onto the pillows with a groan as his release renders him weak, unable to hold his torso up anymore.
    She collapses over him with the same grace with which she does everything, disconnecting them softly, curling herself against him.
    “What was that?” Arthur finally asks.
    “Was it—?”
    “No, I’m pleased… very pleased. I’m just surprised,” he chuckles.
    “Must be the changes in my body due to the baby,” she shrugs, sleepy now, groping for blankets.
    “Mmm, will have to keep u pregnant all the time,” Arthur purrs, gathering her to him.
    “I think that might be a bit inconvenient, not to mention nearly impossible,” she says.
    “Ah, Guinevere, always so practical.”

xXx

    They ride out the volgende morning, Gwen in the wagon with Smith again, waving fondly to Hollis and Eldon. Eldon is smiling from ear to ear, his portemonnee having grown very fat indeed, while Hollis is trying unsuccessfully not to cry.
    “We’ll be back on our way home,” Gwen promises, and Hollis gives up trying to hold in her tears.
    They approach Cornwall shortly before lunch.
    “This is odd. No scouts,” Leon observes as they draw close. “There should be scouts to meet us door now to announce our arrival.”
    They ride through the town, smiling at the somewhat-interested citizens, still somewhat puzzled at the seeming lapse in protocol until they reach the kasteel gates and enter the courtyard.
    There is no one there to greet them.
    “Did u send him the wrong day, Merlin?” Arthur asks, annoyed, dismounting. Finally a few stablehands come forth to attend the horses, and Gwen gives instructions for them to proved food and water to Smith as well.
    “No, Arthur, I’m positive I told him today,” Merlin answers.
    “So what now?” Gwaine asks.
    “I guess we go find King Marke,” Arthur says with a shrug.
    The confused party enters the troon room to see King Marke reading a parchment. Arthur clears his throat and Marke looks up from his reading, his face impassive.
    “Greetings, King Marke,” Arthur says, then pauses. “I fear I must apologize. Was my communication unclear, my lord, were u not expecting us today?” he asks politely.
    “I was expecting you, but I did not formally greet you,” King Marke answers, his voice just edged with disdain. “In my estimation, a king that knights commoners and marries a serving girl does not merit a formal welcome.”
    This stops them in their tracks. The three knights’ hands automatically go to hilts, but Arthur holds up his own hand, staying them. “Well, then, it seems we have made this journey only to be insulted. It saddens me that u feel this way, Sire. There is no point in remaining, then, and I will be saying nothing else save good dag to you,” Arthur says. His voice is calm, but Gwen and Merlin can both feel the anger and embarrassment radiating from his tense body.
    “Come,” Arthur commands, turning on his heel.
    “Well done, Arthur,” King Marke’s voice, now sounding lighter, warmer, stops them in their tracks.
    Arthur turns, confused. “Excuse me?” he asks.
    “Forgive me, but often I have found that the best way to take the measure a man is to make him angry,” Marke explains, frowning apologetically as he stands and walks to them. “Push him and see if he reacts of if he acts.”
    “And?” Arthur asks, narrowing his eyes slightly, still somewhat angry but mostly confused. And intrigued. Gwen reaches for his hand, squeezing it gently.
    “When I last saw you, u were but a boy of twelve and very… rambunctious,” Marke starts to explain.
    “You are being kind,” Arthur says, smirking.
    “Yes,” Marke agrees with a chuckle. “But I am beyond pleased to find that u have grown into a fine man,” he appraises. “A man brave enough to make bold moves like placing value on the common man and marrying for love rather than strategy. I hope to be able to tell people that I am proud to know u and call u my ally, Arthur.” Marke extends his hand to Arthur; an invitation.
    Arthur clasps forearms with the other king, “And so u shall, if I may do the same,” Arthur answers.
    “On the condition that u introduce me to your beautiful queen,” Marke says, smiling at Gwen.
    “Of course,” Arthur smiles. “King Marke of Cornwall, my wife, Queen Guinevere of Camelot,” he introduces, placing his hand on the small of her back as she holds her hand out to the king.
    Marke takes her hand and kisses it respectfully. “My lady, it is an honor.”
    “It is I who am honored, my lord. And do please forgive my appearance. We have been traveling and I have not had the opportunity to freshen up,” she apologizes.
    “Nonsense,” Marke dismisses her apology with a wave. “True beauty shows through regardless of its wrappings.” He smiles down at her. “Though, Arthur, I must say I am surprised u allowed her to make the journey while she carries your heir.”
    “My Guinevere is very convincing, Marke,” Arthur says with a smile.
    “Yes, I imagine she is,” he chuckles, and Gwen blushes.
    Merlin politely clears his throat.
    “Ah, King Marke, allow me to present the rest of our party. Sirs Leon, Gwaine and Elyan,” he introduces, and the knights nod respectfully. “And Lord Merlin, Court Sorcerer and royal advisor.”
    “Yes, yes, I’ve heard about you,” Marke says, looking at Merlin, who is dressed in his old servant’s clothes for ease of travel. “You don’t look much like a wizard, though.”
    Merlin chuckles. “I look like the king’s manservant, right?” he grins, and Marke nods. “That’s because I used to be his manservant. I find it’s easier to travel in these old clothes instead of my new ones.”
    “Trust me, he’s a force to be reckoned with,” Gwaine speaks up from behind Merlin, and the other two knights nod.
    “Mmm. Interesting. I am very interested to hear about Camelot’s new laws regarding magic. As u know, Cornwall has no such regulations, but I am curious nevertheless. But that’s for later. Surely u wish to freshen up,” he glances at Gwen now, “and perhaps have a bite of lunch before we meet and discuss matters.”

Part 18: link