Part 8: link


    “Feeling better?” Guinevere asks. They’re still lying in bed, now cuddled under the covers together.
    “Almost,” he says, and he turns onto his back, pulling her with him, trading places with her so that her head is now resting on his chest.
    I knew he wasn’t done with me yet, she thinks, smiling and resting her hand on his chest, idly toying with his chest hair beneath her fingers.
    His hand strokes her side, trailing down to her rear, where he gives a gentle squeeze before resting it there.
    “What’s on your mind?” she asks, attempting to draw him out.
    “Morgana. I don’t understand her. I mean, I understand that she wants power. She wants revenge. She wants this kingdom; inexplicably thinks she deserves this kingdom.”
    “She is older than you.”
    “Don’t help,” he teases.
    “But she is illegitimate.”
    “That’s better.”
    “Go on,” she prompts.
    “But the part I don’t understand is this: What did I ever do to her? And Mehr to the point, what on earth did Du ever do to her? Du were her trusted maidservant for nearly her entire life. Both your lives. Mehr than that, she considered Du a friend. I know she did. Du did nothing but take care of her and her needs, look after her, console her when she was plagued Von nightmares. Du went above and beyond the duties of most any servant.”
    “Thank you.”
    “And she does something so… low, so vile to you, besmirching your honor and flawless virtue. Just to get at me.” Arthur is getting riled up again, and Guinevere sees his fist clenching, feels the tension in his body.
    “Shhh,” she soothes, leaning up to KISS his lips and stroke his furrowed brow. “Did I tell Du that she and I had a confrontation when she and Helios tried to usurp the thron this last time?”
    “No! What happened? She is a skilled fighter, how—”
    “Arthur,” she interrupts.
    “Sorry.”
    “True, I was no match for her sword fighting skill. Remind me later to ask Du about teaching me to fight, Von the way.”
    “Noted. Continue.”
    “But I did manage to ask her what I had done to make her hate me so. Her reply was curious, at the time.”
    “What did she say?”
    “She said, ‘It’s not what Du did, it’s what you’re destined to do,’ and that she could not let that happen. I was a bit confused Von her words. Seeing as how we were…”
    “Yes.”
    “At the time. But I can only assume now that she was referring to my becoming Queen instead of her.”
    “Undoubtedly. But how would she know?”
    “Arthur, she has magic. The dreams she was plagued Von must have been her powers coming forward. Prophetic dreams, probably.”
    “So Du think she dreamt Du would be queen?”
    Gwen shrugs. “Probably.”
    “Still no excuse for her to do what she did.”
    “Arthur, we don’t know if she’s even alive. Last I saw her, a Wand was collapsing on her.”
    “But Merlin sagte that she wasn’t there when the dust cleared. So she may yet be slinking around somewhere, gathering allies, making plans…”
    “Arthur, stop. You’re getting yourself all worked up. If she’s alive, we don’t know where she is. We can’t do anything about her until she makes her presence known.”
    “Well, I’ll be ready for her.”
    “I know Du will, love,” she says, reaching up to stroke his cheek.
    Realization dawns on Guinevere. “Arthur, each time she tries to drive a wedge between us, it only brings us closer together.” She sits up slightly to look at him.
    He angles his head, waiting for her to continue.
    “She used her magic to make me betray you, but all it did was made us realize that we couldn’t be apart from one another.”
    “True,” his eyes soften.
    “And she ripped my betrothal ring from my neck, and somehow Du found it.”
    He nods. “That was the moment I knew that I could not marry anyone but you, and if I couldn’t have you, I would die a bachelor,” he says softly. He doesn’t mention Princess Mithian. Guinevere knows all about it already and has made it clear that while she doesn’t care, neither does she wish to hear any Mehr about it.
    “Good thing we found each other again, then,” she says, “Which only happened because Morgana forced Du to flee. To Ealdor. Where I was staying with Hunith.”     “Huh,” Arthur wonders, and Gwen leans up to KISS him again, longer, sliding her body against his as she arches up to reach his lips.
    “Mmm,” he sighs against her. I think I need some Mehr therapy.

    “So, explain that again? That Lancelot wasn’t the real Lancelot?” Gwaine asks. Merlin has left Lord Roderick in the care of a council member, who is giving him a tour of the palace, and the lord mentioned something about a nap. So Merlin has some time to find Arthur’s closest knights and update them.
    They are seated on a few benches near the training field, hanging on Merlin’s every word.
    “Yes and no,” Merlin says.
    “Well, that clears it up.”
    “He was a shade. Morgana used magic to bring his body back from the other side. But his mind was hers; he was her puppet. He only knew what she told him.”
    “How did he get the bracelet to give to Gwen?” Percival asks.
    “Agravaine,” Leon supplies. Merlin nods.
    “Ass,” Gwaine curses.
    Elyan has been sitting with his head bowed the entire time, his elbows on his knees, tracing patterns in the dirt with the tip of his sword. His halskette dangles, swinging in konzert with his movements.
    “That’s what’s left of the bracelet, isn’t it?” Percival reaches beside him and lifts the silver lump in his palm.
    Elyan nods, still not looking up.
    “She really laid into you, didn’t she?” Leon asks quietly.
    He nods again. “I deserved it. Every word.”
    “Leon and I heard the yelling this morning on patrol and came to investigate,” Gwaine confesses. “When we saw who it was, we wisely decided to make tracks the other way,” he chuckles.
    “Did Du see her slap me?”
    “She slapped you?” Leon is aghast. He has known Guinevere his entire life and has never known her to raise her hand in anger to anyone.
    “Hard,” Elyan looks up. “And she was right to do so.”
    “So why the necklace?” Gwaine asks.
    “It’s a reminder. To be a better brother. If she’ll have me as her brother again.”
    “She disowned you?” None of them can believe what they are hearing.
    “Until I make amends for abandoning her in her greatest time of need.”
    “How are Du going to do that? Other than your ugly necklace, I mean.” Percival asks quietly, putting his large arm around his friend’s shoulders.
    “I’ve already put some things in motion, actually,” he says and explains how he’s set about spreading the word of his sister’s innocence via the blacksmith’s wife.

    His ear is pressed quietly to the door in a dim hallway, listening intently. The sounds of what can only be lovemaking gradually cease, and it is quiet. The listener catches bits of conversation.
    “…enjoy…”
    The king’s laughter comes through the door, very clear. Then it goes quiet again and he must once again strain to hear.
    “…with child…”
    “… our baby…”
    “…midwives…”
    Then soft laughter. Have they shut themselves in to try and conceive an heir? oder is she already with child?
    It is quiet, but the listener is undeterred. His patience is what gained him this job. He waits.
    More snatches of conversation. The tone is different this time. The listener closes his eyes, concentrating.
    “…Morgana…”
    “…illegitimate…”
    Arthur’s voice rises. Good.
    “…What did I ever do to her? And Mehr to the point, what on earth did you ever do to her? Du were her trusted maidservant for nearly her entire life. Both your lives. Mehr than that, she considered Du a friend…”
    What do they know? He opens his eyes.
    “…prophetic dreams…”
    “…queen…”
    “…don’t know if she’s even alive…”
    Very good.
    “…don’t know where she is…”
    Very good, indeed.
    “…used her magic to make me betray you…”
    They know. Not good.
    It goes quiet again. Still he listens, Mehr intently now, closing his eyes once again.
    Minutes pass, and he hears a low moan, just barely audible. He grins lasciviously and continues to listen, not realizing that in his lewd distraction that his shoe has tapped against the door.
    Approaching footsteps reach the ear not pressed to the door, and, cursing softly, he makes his exit, hiding around the corner, still listening.

    Arthur breaks Guinevere’s KISS momentarily to shift, leaning over her before return his lips to her, open and wanting. She sighs into him, a moan escaping from her throat.
    What was that? She pulls back. “Did Du hear something?”
    Undeterred and unconcerned, Arthur turns his attention to her neck, placing nibbling kisses there against her sensitive skin.
    “Probably just Merlin… picking up… the tray… oder something,” he mutters between kisses, his hand sliding to her breast while hers come up to his shoulders, feeling the contours of his muscles under her hands.
    He descends once again to her waiting lips, Küssen softly but with passion, telling her all she needs to know without saying a word.
    I Liebe you. I adore you. I want you. I need you.
    “Arthur…” she gasps, her hands sliding down his sides, around his back, her hands tracing the familiar lines. She brings one around to grasp him, finding him already fully hard.
    “Guinevere,” he whispers roughly against her lips before Küssen down her neck again, closing his lips around a breast, lavishing attention on it.
    Gwen’s fingers lightly trail the length of his shaft and his body jerks reflexively. She smiles, taking him once again in her hand, stroking him. He nibbles lightly at her breast, Wird angezeigt his appreciation.
    His hand trails down to touch her, fingers slipping between her legs, parted and waiting for him. She is slick and swollen, just as aroused as he. Arthur smiles against her breasts as he kisses his way to the other one.
    He flicks his tongue against her nipple and she responds Von squeezing him in her hand. He grunts against her skin, and brings his hand up to remove hers from his manhood lest she stroke him to completion. That won’t do at all. Perhaps another time, though…
    Arthur slides his fingers into her and she sighs, pressing her head back into the pillows. He kisses her arched neck, trailing his tongue from her throat to her ear, where he bites her earlobe gently before sucking it into his mouth to roll it against his tongue.
    “Ah…” she sighs again. He releases her earlobe to lean back, rising up slightly, just to look at her.
    His fingers Bewegen below, and she turns her head to one side, eyelids half closed, full, wet lips parted. Her skin is glistening slightly, a slight sheen highlighting her unique coloring. Her hair is undone and is tossed all around her head, like a halo of dark curls. She is gloriously beautiful in her arousal, and Arthur forgets what he is doing for a moment and his fingers still.
    Gwen notices a change and opens her eyes, looking at Arthur. “Arthur? Is something wrong?” she asks.
    He blinks a couple times, remembering himself, and says, “Not at all, my sweet. I was distracted Von how beautiful Du look, actually.”
    What? I’m sure I look a complete mess, she thinks, but believes him nevertheless. She’s learned he likes her a bit disheveled. I don’t understand it, but it makes him happy.
    He descends upon her, his lips again hungry for hers, and he thrusts his tongue into her waiting mouth, a Vorschau of things to come. Arthur settles between her legs and pushes into her as he kisses her, swallowing the cry of surprised passion that escaped from Gwen’s lips.
    Arthur stays still within her, unmoving, just locked together with her, being one with her. He lifts his head and once again looks down at her, his hand caressing her cheek.
    “I Liebe you, Guinevere,” he whispers as she opens her eyes to look at him.
    “And I Liebe you, Arthur,” she whispers back, leaning up to KISS his neck.
    He starts move, withdrawing slowly, almost pulling completely out before sliding back in, still slowly.
    She closes her eyes again, and he continues, very gradually increasing his tempo and intensity until neither of them can think straight.
    “Oh…” Gwen gasps, her legs now wrapped around his thighs, her hands gripping his chest.
    “Ah…” Arthur grunts, almost a growl, leaning all his weight on one hand so that he can clasp a breast in the other. Faster, harder.
    “Yes… oh… please…” Guinevere is begging now, her body arching and squirming beneath him. He bends to KISS her again.
    He drives vorwärts-, nach vorn and back, hammering into her unmercifully, and she takes it, takes it all gladly, relishing his passion.
    The sweet burning sensation builds within her loins, increasing, taking hold, taking over until it can no longer be contained and her climax bursts forth. She actually screams with the release of it.
    Her scream of pleasure pushes Arthur over the edge right behind her and he comes, flooding into her with a roar pushed through gritted teeth as he once again stills, deep within her, waiting for the waves to crest so he can think again.
    Arthur regains his sense and drops slowly atop Gwen, placing a few soft pecks on her lips before dropping his head to nuzzle her neck. He stays rooted inside of her, needing her closeness, craving her very presence. She seems to understand, and caresses his forehead lightly, fingers twining in his hair.
    He slowly relaxes, and Gwen can feel some of the tension leave him. She continues to stroke his hair, his temple, his cheek, trailing her fingers where she can reach.
    He sighs, and it is a contented sigh, not one of the heavy mournful ones she heard earlier. Arthur squeezes her, kisses her shoulder, and gently eases himself off of her, out of her.
    He curls onto his side and pulls Gwen up to him, spooning behind her. He nestles his face into her hair for a moment, inhaling her scent before Küssen her neck. He settles his head back on his pillow, and with his arm securely around Guinevere, he drifts off to sleep.

    “What have Du got there?” Gwaine intercepts Percival in the corridor. He is carrying something that he hides upon hearing Gwaine’s voice.
    “Nothing.”
    “Are those… flowers?”
    “Of course not.” Percival then notices Gwaine seems to be camouflaging something in his hands as well.
    “What have you got there?” he counters.
    “Certainly not flowers,” Gwaine says. The two men regard each other for a moment, standing.
    “Well, I’ll be seeing Du around then,” Percival says, starting to walk.
    “Um, yeah, see Du at dinner,” Gwaine also starts walking. The same direction.
    He sneaks a quick peek. “You have got flowers!”
    Percival stops walking again. “Yes, I have flowers, see?” He brandishes them in Gwaine’s face. He’s got a bunch of lavender tied with a long ribbon. Then he suddenly grabs Gwaine and spins him around, revealing what he’s hiding.
    “And so do you, I see.”
    “Fine, fine, I’ve got flowers, too. What of it? I feel horrible for Gwen and I wanted to leave her a small token of—”
    “Apology,” Percival finishes Gwaine’s sentence. “I know.” He waves the bunch of Blumen at Gwaine.
    The two knights start walking again, towards the royal chambers. “At least mine are in water,” Gwaine goads.
    “This is lavender, Gwaine. It’s to be dried.”
    “For what?”
    “I don’t know, for whatever a lady wishes to do with dried lavender. Elyan told me she always had bunches of flowers, especially lavender, hanging like this,” he holds the bunch Von the ribbon, dangling it briefly, “in her house. So I thought she’d like it.”
    Gwaine leans over and smells it. “It smells like her.”
    Percival raises his eyebrow. “How do Du know what the Queen smells like?”
    “Relax, Guinevere and I go way back. We’re old mates, we are.”
    “Still wouldn’t recommend talking about the way she smells in front of Arthur,” he chuckles. “Your Blumen look like hell, Von the way.”
    “Hey, I picked them myself. Gwen will appreciate them, I know.” Gwaine defends his pathetic bouquet of wildflowers, resting charmingly in a metal mug usually used to swig mead oder ale.
    They reach the door just as Leon is attempting to steal away, having left his own token. A small jewel-encrusted dagger.
    “Oh. Hello,” he stammers. Then he notices their Blumen and relaxes. “I see Du lads had the same idea.”
    “A dagger, Leon? That’s… unique,” Gwaine says. They take care to stand a distance away from the doors so they are not heard. And so they do not hear what’s going on inside.
    “I want Queen Guinevere to have something she can carry with which to protect herself, that’s all.”
    “Ah,” Gwaine nods, humoring him. Leon and his weaponry, he thinks, sighing internally. Pity the woman he marries.
    As Gwaine and Percival bend to leave their flowers, they hear Guinevere cry out from the other side of the door.
    “Yes… oh… please…”
    Leon’s eyes open wide, and Percival blushes. A knowing smirk crosses Gwaine’s face and he shoves the others and whispers, “Let’s go.”
    A few feet down the corridor, Guinevere’s scream reaches their ears. The three knights freeze in their tracks. Percival and Leon both blush crimson. Gwaine just grins and says, “Atta boy, Arthur.”

    Interesting, the figure hidden around the corner thinks. So they definitely know, and are telling the entire kingdom.


Part 10: link