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My first fanfic foray into the Merlin fandom. Just a one shot.
***
1
Arthur knocked on the door to Morgana‘s room, and not waiting for an answer, let himself in, closing it behind him with a soft click, shutting out the sounds of the castle and the scurry of servant’s feet as they prepared for the feast being held that night. He had slipped away to see Morgana. She had been avoiding him, avoiding everyone since he regained consciousness five days ago and he was worried about her.
She walked the halls like a ghost at night flitting from room to room, refusing to sleep and turned up for breakfast hollow eyed and exhausted. On Uther’s order, Gaius prepared sleeping draft after sleeping draft but she refused them all. Only Gwen’s presence soothed her and a bed had been put up for her in Morgana’s room.
He sighed in frustration at finding the room empty, pacing impatiently for a few moments until the sound of quiet weeping stopped him in his tracks, “Morgana?”
He rounded the corner into her dressing room, the only place he hadn’t looked, “Morgana?”
“Sire.” Gwen jumped up from a little footstool and inclined her head briefly, before turning away from him busying herself with large a pile of clothes.
“I…” he swallowed uncomfortably as he realized it was Gwen he had heard weeping, “I was looking for Morgana.”
“She’s been called away. The…king thought she might find some solace in riding.”
“Right,” she still had her back to him but her voice wasn’t quite steady and he gave her a moment to compose herself. He could see her hands moving rapidly as she moved the same dress from pile to pile.
He rubbed the back of his neck when he realized she wasn’t going to speak again, “Are you ok?”
She paused, going very still, “I’m fine. Fine.”
“Guinevere?”
She turned around slowly clutching a red dress to her chest and he could see the silver tracks left by her tears glinting in the flickering light of the lamps, “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to Morgana.”
He took a step backwards distancing himself from her fear because it oddly infectious, “nothing’s going to happen to Morgana,” he blustered with far more confidence then he felt, dismissing her worries with a wave of his hand.
Her lips stretched tight in a parody of her normally bright smile and she nodded, “she’s the closest thing to…to… family I have, Sire…”
His hand hovered in the space between them. The reminder of her father’s death left him devoid of words for a moment and when he spoke, his voice was low, determined, “nothing is going to happen to Morgana. She’s going to be fine.”
She nodded quickly but her eyes betrayed her and as if sensing that, she lowered them, long lashes casting a faint shadow on her cheekbones.
“I’m going to get Merlin. He’s going to run a few errands for me and it would do you good to go with him. To get away from the castle while Morgana is occupied. And don’t tell him, I said this but he can be quite amusing when he chooses to be. It will be a distraction for you.”
“I don’t need…”
“I’ll call him now,” he turned to go. Merlin was her friend. He’d know how to deal with her tears because he was very clearly out of depth. He stopped when a flash of white caught his eye, stooping to pick up the scarp of material, half hidden underneath a dresser. He turned it over, puzzled. It was a man’s handkerchief.
Turning back, he held it out to her, watching her face carefully for a reaction, “you dropped something.”
She froze for a few seconds, struggling not to cry and when she reached out, her movements were rigid, stiff. Her fingers brushed his lightly as she took it from him and he realized she was trembling.
“It is my father’s,” she whispered. “I carry it with me but I must have dropped it.” She held it to her nose, “It…it still smells of him.”
He took half a step forward, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” She tucked it under her sleeve, patting it before turning away again as if embarrassed by her show of vulnerability. Her voice was too bright when she spoke, “I think you’re right. I will accompany Merlin. And I‘ll keep your secret.”
“Secret?”
She half turned so only her profile was visible to him, “that you find him amusing,” she explained, the slightest hint of teasing lacing her words.
“Huh,” he gave her a crooked grin, “make sure you do. He’s already too big for his boots.”
Her lips twitched and he was pleased to have made her smile. Well, she wasn’t smiling exactly but she wasn’t crying anymore either. That had to be a bonus. He gestured to the door, “I’ll send him for you.”
“I’ll wait here.”
***
“Merlin,” she turned to him abruptly, startling him so that he almost dropped the load he was carrying, “why do you keep looking at me as if I’ve grown another head?”
He had been shooting her little darting glances all afternoon as they trailed from one merchant’s store to another accumulating package after package. Whenever she tried to query him on it, he launched into a steady steam of chatter, talking of Gaius’ latest patient or complaining about the state Arthur had left his chambers in that morning .
Now he smiled sheepishly, dipping his head, “Arthur said you had been crying.”
She sighed, wondering why it had taken him so long to bring it up, “I thought he might have mentioned something.”
He tilted his head in question, faint lines of concern crinkling the corners of his mouth and she smiled at him reassuringly, nudging him with her elbow, “Really, I’m ok. I was just worried about Morgana.”
She saw something fleeting, troubling, in his golden eyes but it was gone before she could analyze it. He held her eyes for a moment longer, “Gaius tells me she has had troubles with nightmares for a while.”
She shook her head, “this feels different, more urgent. I don’t know.”
He looked away, suddenly seemingly engrossed in navigating the crowds without dropping any of the packages, “I’ll mention it to Gaius. Maybe there‘s something he can do that will help her.”
He sounded distracted, closed off and she stopped herself from saying that if there was something Gaius could have done for Morgana, he would have already done it. She took the opportunity to study him instead. He was still the same sweet boy that had grabbed her attention all those months ago but there was a new maturity about him now, a new awareness and sometimes she sensed a feeling of restlessness that was at odds with his normally patient nature.
“Being around Arthur is good for you.” She wasn’t aware she’d spoken out loud until he scoffed, stopping so suddenly that she almost collided into him.
“It’s me that’s doing him the world of good.”
She smiled, “I think it goes both ways,” and although he tried, he couldn’t quite hide his pleasure at her words.
“Speaking of our Crown Prince, he wanted to know if you were wanting for anything.”
She laughed softly, “nothing that can be given to me.”
“Gwen…”
His concern made a lump rise in her throat and she shook her head and carried on walking, tugging at his arm so he would follow, “I want my father back Merlin but nobody can grant that wish. I want Morgana to be free of her nightmares.”
He squeezed her hand briefly but the tiny shake of her head stopped him from saying what ever else he had in mind.
“Have dinner with Gaius and me tonight,” he asked instead.
Her smile was relieved, thankful that he‘d listened to her silent plea, “I’d love to.”
She spent more and more of her evening meals with Morgana cajoling her to eat and it had been too long since she sat at a table with Gaius and Merlin. Uther was holding a feast tonight and Morgana would have to attend, leaving her a little time in between the festivities to snatch a meal.
2
Arthur pulled a face that could only be described as disgusted and she had to hide her smile behind her hand, “Morgana, you’ve eaten more than I and father put together.”
He turned to Gwen, eyes bulging slightly, “she’s eaten more than father and I put together. “
Morgana rolled her eyes and shot Gwen a conspirational look, which delighted her. It seemed so long since Morgana had been playful and carefree. If she and Arthur were back to sniping at each other, she really must be feeling better and Arthur might try and hide his pleasure but she could see that he was just as pleased as she was that Morgana was returning to her old self.
“I think she heard you the first time,” Morgana retorted, dipping her fingers into a little bowl of tepid water and wiping them on the little towel that Gwen was holding out to her. She patted her stomach with satisfaction, “it’s been so long since I’ve been truly hungry.”
Arthur smiled lightly, “no nightmares?”
“None. Three nights now. Nothing for four nights.” Her eyes sparkled.
Gwen smiled in relief as she loaded the various plates on to a tray. The day of the feast seemed to have been a turning point. Moragana had returned from the festivities even more exhausted then normal and simply collapsed into bed fully clothed.
Gwen didn’t have the heart to wake her and had slept fretfully herself, drifting in out of sleep, half expecting to be woken by Morgana’s screams but there had been nothing. Four peaceful nights later and it seemed that the nightmares were finally loosening their grip. She had no idea what had brought the change, was sure that Morgana didn’t either but they were all grateful that there had been a change.
She loaded the last plate onto the tray and made her way to the door, “is there anything else you would like from the kitchen?”
Morgana smiled at her sweetly, “no thank you Gwen. I’m quite full.”
She nodded and shifted the tray to one hand so she could open the door but Arthur got there first, holding it open for her with an exaggerated flourish. She smiled widely, bobbing her head, as she made her way past him into the hall.
She heard Morgana’s teasing laughter follow her out, “that was very gallant Arthur.”
“I am a Prince of Camelot after all. We’re famed for our gallantry…”
She shook her head, laughing softly, until their voices were muffled by the closing of the door.
***
Arthur was waiting for her outside Morgana’s room when she returned from the kitchen, leaning against the door with an easy grace. He held a finger to his lips as she approached, “she’s asleep,” he whispered.
“Oh.”
“She mumbled, rather unattractively might I add, something about you taking the rest of the afternoon off .”
“Right,” she twisted her hands together, suddenly as a loss as to what to do, “I’ll go home then. There’s chores I have to do.”
He touched her elbow briefly just as she turned to go, “I told you didn’t I?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I told you she would be fine.”
She smiled. It was the first time he has spoken of that afternoon to her. “You did Sire and you were right.”
He shrugged with false modesty, eyes glinting mischievously, “I normally am. I hope next time you won‘t doubt me.”
She laughed and then rearranged her face into a mask of solemnity, tilting her head at a slight angle, “never.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“No.”
He grinned, “ I don’t believe you. It seems you have been spending far too much time with Merlin. Being,” he waved a hand in the air randomly, “being obtuse is a specialty of his.”
She shook her head again, holding her laughter inside and this time when she turned to go, he let her.
****
His surprise rooted him to the floor, “whoever taught you how to wield a sword should be exiled.”
“Sire,” she spun around quickly. The sword slipped from her grasp and swung wildly in the air before landing with a clatter at his feet, the point resting on the toe of his right boot. They both stared at it in shock for a few moments before a little squeak from her raised his eyes.
His lips twitched in amusement as she clapped a hand across her mouth and mumbled something incomprehensible. It sounded like an apology but he couldn’t quite be sure.
He picked up the sword and eyed it critically, “it was Merlin, wasn’t it? I can’t think of any other man in Camelot more ill suited to giving lessons in sword fighting.”
She shook her head. Her hand was still covering her mouth and her eyes were round in shock, rounder then he thought was possible. “It’s ok,” he reassured her. “Despite your best attempt, I’m still alive.”
“I‘m so sorry.” She looked stricken.
“I can’t quite work you out,” he couldn‘t resist teasing her, “one week you tell me I have to live for Camelot’s sake and the next you almost succeed in mutilating me horribly.”
She flushed as he knew she would at the mention of her words repeated back to her. She dropped her hand, “I don’t remember…I didn’t mean…”
“If you didn’t say them, I must have dreamed them up.”
He laughed softly at the horror his words prompted and decided to let her of the hook. He held up the sword, “what prompted this? When you said you had chores to do, I didn‘t quite picture this,” he asked with genuine curiosity as well as a desire to put her at ease. He eyed it from hilt to blade. It was superb workmanship, her father’s work, no doubt.
She smoothed her hands over the yellow of her dress and he recognized it as a nervous gesture, “I wanted to learn how to fight, how to defend myself.”
He raised a blond eyebrow, “why?”
She raised a hand to brush back a stray curl and he caught the dark mottled bruise scarring her wrist before she pulled her sleeve over it hastily, “I live alone now and…”
“What happened to your arm?”
“N…nothing.”
“Guinevere, I saw the bruising.” she moved back skittishly when he reached forward to take her arm. “What’s going on?”
“I didn’t tell Morgana because I don’t want to worry her. I don’t want her troubled on my behalf.”
“Tell her what?”
She looked around, clearly uncomfortable discussing it out in the open. He took her by the elbow, leading her to a quiet corner of the courtyard, holding up a hand to halt his guards from following him, “wait for me there.”
“Well?” he prompted.
“Last night, Lady Morgana gave me her mink stole because it was so cold and,” she looked past his shoulder as she spoke, “and I was stopped on my way home by some men …”
His hand tightened around the sword instinctively, “what did they want?”
“Money but I didn’t have any and when they realized that, they left me alone.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously, even as they scanned over her, “they didn’t hurt you?”
She fingered her sleeve, “just my arm but I’m fine. Thank you for your concern but I should really be getting back and…”
“Guinevere,” he held up a hand to stem her flow of words, “let me have a look.”
She rolled up her sleeve hesitantly and held out her arm. He fingered the bruise, touching lightly, barely skimming her skin.
“It looks worse then it is.”
“Have Gaius take a look at it. He should have a salve that will help.” She jumped as his fingers traced it briefly and he pulled back but held her eyes.
“I will.”
“Somebody will accompany you back from the castle when it’s dark.”
She looked up in shock, “there’s no need…”
“There’s every need. Now show me how you would hold that.” He handed the sword back to her to stop any further protestations and ran a critical eye over her posture. “You’re holding it all wrong. You have no control like this.”
He stepped behind her and moved her hands into the right position, “loosen your elbows a little and not so tight with your grip.” He tapped the thumb and forefinger of one hand, “they should float over the hilt…keep your little finger tight and this one too. That’s better.”
He stepped away and ran another eye over her, “bring the sword closer into your body and bend your elbows a little more. That’s right. Does that feel better?”
She moved the sword just a fraction and gave him a grin that lit up her face, “yes.” Her laughter was infectious. “It does.”
“Good. When your arm is healed, maybe you’ll be ready to learn more. For now, go to Gaius and let him treat you.”
She looked at him wonderingly for a moment and he tilted his head, “what?”
“Thank you.”
***
A few days later when Merlin told her of the three men Arthur and his knights had captured in a tavern in a small village on the outskirts of the land, she was careful to keep her face neutral. They had been terrorising locals, Merlin said, mugging and looting what they could as they moved from place to place.
They had been in the heart of Camelot itself, had hurt local women according to Arthur. She flushed at his words, mind hurtling back to the look on Arthur’s face as he examined her wrist.
“He’s a good man to care for his people so,” she finally said, ignoring the ridiculous voice in the back of her mind whispering that Arthur’s expedition had something to do with her.
***
Comments adored
***
1
Arthur knocked on the door to Morgana‘s room, and not waiting for an answer, let himself in, closing it behind him with a soft click, shutting out the sounds of the castle and the scurry of servant’s feet as they prepared for the feast being held that night. He had slipped away to see Morgana. She had been avoiding him, avoiding everyone since he regained consciousness five days ago and he was worried about her.
She walked the halls like a ghost at night flitting from room to room, refusing to sleep and turned up for breakfast hollow eyed and exhausted. On Uther’s order, Gaius prepared sleeping draft after sleeping draft but she refused them all. Only Gwen’s presence soothed her and a bed had been put up for her in Morgana’s room.
He sighed in frustration at finding the room empty, pacing impatiently for a few moments until the sound of quiet weeping stopped him in his tracks, “Morgana?”
He rounded the corner into her dressing room, the only place he hadn’t looked, “Morgana?”
“Sire.” Gwen jumped up from a little footstool and inclined her head briefly, before turning away from him busying herself with large a pile of clothes.
“I…” he swallowed uncomfortably as he realized it was Gwen he had heard weeping, “I was looking for Morgana.”
“She’s been called away. The…king thought she might find some solace in riding.”
“Right,” she still had her back to him but her voice wasn’t quite steady and he gave her a moment to compose herself. He could see her hands moving rapidly as she moved the same dress from pile to pile.
He rubbed the back of his neck when he realized she wasn’t going to speak again, “Are you ok?”
She paused, going very still, “I’m fine. Fine.”
“Guinevere?”
She turned around slowly clutching a red dress to her chest and he could see the silver tracks left by her tears glinting in the flickering light of the lamps, “I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to Morgana.”
He took a step backwards distancing himself from her fear because it oddly infectious, “nothing’s going to happen to Morgana,” he blustered with far more confidence then he felt, dismissing her worries with a wave of his hand.
Her lips stretched tight in a parody of her normally bright smile and she nodded, “she’s the closest thing to…to… family I have, Sire…”
His hand hovered in the space between them. The reminder of her father’s death left him devoid of words for a moment and when he spoke, his voice was low, determined, “nothing is going to happen to Morgana. She’s going to be fine.”
She nodded quickly but her eyes betrayed her and as if sensing that, she lowered them, long lashes casting a faint shadow on her cheekbones.
“I’m going to get Merlin. He’s going to run a few errands for me and it would do you good to go with him. To get away from the castle while Morgana is occupied. And don’t tell him, I said this but he can be quite amusing when he chooses to be. It will be a distraction for you.”
“I don’t need…”
“I’ll call him now,” he turned to go. Merlin was her friend. He’d know how to deal with her tears because he was very clearly out of depth. He stopped when a flash of white caught his eye, stooping to pick up the scarp of material, half hidden underneath a dresser. He turned it over, puzzled. It was a man’s handkerchief.
Turning back, he held it out to her, watching her face carefully for a reaction, “you dropped something.”
She froze for a few seconds, struggling not to cry and when she reached out, her movements were rigid, stiff. Her fingers brushed his lightly as she took it from him and he realized she was trembling.
“It is my father’s,” she whispered. “I carry it with me but I must have dropped it.” She held it to her nose, “It…it still smells of him.”
He took half a step forward, “I’m sorry.”
“It’s fine.” She tucked it under her sleeve, patting it before turning away again as if embarrassed by her show of vulnerability. Her voice was too bright when she spoke, “I think you’re right. I will accompany Merlin. And I‘ll keep your secret.”
“Secret?”
She half turned so only her profile was visible to him, “that you find him amusing,” she explained, the slightest hint of teasing lacing her words.
“Huh,” he gave her a crooked grin, “make sure you do. He’s already too big for his boots.”
Her lips twitched and he was pleased to have made her smile. Well, she wasn’t smiling exactly but she wasn’t crying anymore either. That had to be a bonus. He gestured to the door, “I’ll send him for you.”
“I’ll wait here.”
***
“Merlin,” she turned to him abruptly, startling him so that he almost dropped the load he was carrying, “why do you keep looking at me as if I’ve grown another head?”
He had been shooting her little darting glances all afternoon as they trailed from one merchant’s store to another accumulating package after package. Whenever she tried to query him on it, he launched into a steady steam of chatter, talking of Gaius’ latest patient or complaining about the state Arthur had left his chambers in that morning .
Now he smiled sheepishly, dipping his head, “Arthur said you had been crying.”
She sighed, wondering why it had taken him so long to bring it up, “I thought he might have mentioned something.”
He tilted his head in question, faint lines of concern crinkling the corners of his mouth and she smiled at him reassuringly, nudging him with her elbow, “Really, I’m ok. I was just worried about Morgana.”
She saw something fleeting, troubling, in his golden eyes but it was gone before she could analyze it. He held her eyes for a moment longer, “Gaius tells me she has had troubles with nightmares for a while.”
She shook her head, “this feels different, more urgent. I don’t know.”
He looked away, suddenly seemingly engrossed in navigating the crowds without dropping any of the packages, “I’ll mention it to Gaius. Maybe there‘s something he can do that will help her.”
He sounded distracted, closed off and she stopped herself from saying that if there was something Gaius could have done for Morgana, he would have already done it. She took the opportunity to study him instead. He was still the same sweet boy that had grabbed her attention all those months ago but there was a new maturity about him now, a new awareness and sometimes she sensed a feeling of restlessness that was at odds with his normally patient nature.
“Being around Arthur is good for you.” She wasn’t aware she’d spoken out loud until he scoffed, stopping so suddenly that she almost collided into him.
“It’s me that’s doing him the world of good.”
She smiled, “I think it goes both ways,” and although he tried, he couldn’t quite hide his pleasure at her words.
“Speaking of our Crown Prince, he wanted to know if you were wanting for anything.”
She laughed softly, “nothing that can be given to me.”
“Gwen…”
His concern made a lump rise in her throat and she shook her head and carried on walking, tugging at his arm so he would follow, “I want my father back Merlin but nobody can grant that wish. I want Morgana to be free of her nightmares.”
He squeezed her hand briefly but the tiny shake of her head stopped him from saying what ever else he had in mind.
“Have dinner with Gaius and me tonight,” he asked instead.
Her smile was relieved, thankful that he‘d listened to her silent plea, “I’d love to.”
She spent more and more of her evening meals with Morgana cajoling her to eat and it had been too long since she sat at a table with Gaius and Merlin. Uther was holding a feast tonight and Morgana would have to attend, leaving her a little time in between the festivities to snatch a meal.
2
Arthur pulled a face that could only be described as disgusted and she had to hide her smile behind her hand, “Morgana, you’ve eaten more than I and father put together.”
He turned to Gwen, eyes bulging slightly, “she’s eaten more than father and I put together. “
Morgana rolled her eyes and shot Gwen a conspirational look, which delighted her. It seemed so long since Morgana had been playful and carefree. If she and Arthur were back to sniping at each other, she really must be feeling better and Arthur might try and hide his pleasure but she could see that he was just as pleased as she was that Morgana was returning to her old self.
“I think she heard you the first time,” Morgana retorted, dipping her fingers into a little bowl of tepid water and wiping them on the little towel that Gwen was holding out to her. She patted her stomach with satisfaction, “it’s been so long since I’ve been truly hungry.”
Arthur smiled lightly, “no nightmares?”
“None. Three nights now. Nothing for four nights.” Her eyes sparkled.
Gwen smiled in relief as she loaded the various plates on to a tray. The day of the feast seemed to have been a turning point. Moragana had returned from the festivities even more exhausted then normal and simply collapsed into bed fully clothed.
Gwen didn’t have the heart to wake her and had slept fretfully herself, drifting in out of sleep, half expecting to be woken by Morgana’s screams but there had been nothing. Four peaceful nights later and it seemed that the nightmares were finally loosening their grip. She had no idea what had brought the change, was sure that Morgana didn’t either but they were all grateful that there had been a change.
She loaded the last plate onto the tray and made her way to the door, “is there anything else you would like from the kitchen?”
Morgana smiled at her sweetly, “no thank you Gwen. I’m quite full.”
She nodded and shifted the tray to one hand so she could open the door but Arthur got there first, holding it open for her with an exaggerated flourish. She smiled widely, bobbing her head, as she made her way past him into the hall.
She heard Morgana’s teasing laughter follow her out, “that was very gallant Arthur.”
“I am a Prince of Camelot after all. We’re famed for our gallantry…”
She shook her head, laughing softly, until their voices were muffled by the closing of the door.
***
Arthur was waiting for her outside Morgana’s room when she returned from the kitchen, leaning against the door with an easy grace. He held a finger to his lips as she approached, “she’s asleep,” he whispered.
“Oh.”
“She mumbled, rather unattractively might I add, something about you taking the rest of the afternoon off .”
“Right,” she twisted her hands together, suddenly as a loss as to what to do, “I’ll go home then. There’s chores I have to do.”
He touched her elbow briefly just as she turned to go, “I told you didn’t I?”
“I’m sorry?”
“I told you she would be fine.”
She smiled. It was the first time he has spoken of that afternoon to her. “You did Sire and you were right.”
He shrugged with false modesty, eyes glinting mischievously, “I normally am. I hope next time you won‘t doubt me.”
She laughed and then rearranged her face into a mask of solemnity, tilting her head at a slight angle, “never.”
“Are you mocking me?”
“No.”
He grinned, “ I don’t believe you. It seems you have been spending far too much time with Merlin. Being,” he waved a hand in the air randomly, “being obtuse is a specialty of his.”
She shook her head again, holding her laughter inside and this time when she turned to go, he let her.
****
His surprise rooted him to the floor, “whoever taught you how to wield a sword should be exiled.”
“Sire,” she spun around quickly. The sword slipped from her grasp and swung wildly in the air before landing with a clatter at his feet, the point resting on the toe of his right boot. They both stared at it in shock for a few moments before a little squeak from her raised his eyes.
His lips twitched in amusement as she clapped a hand across her mouth and mumbled something incomprehensible. It sounded like an apology but he couldn’t quite be sure.
He picked up the sword and eyed it critically, “it was Merlin, wasn’t it? I can’t think of any other man in Camelot more ill suited to giving lessons in sword fighting.”
She shook her head. Her hand was still covering her mouth and her eyes were round in shock, rounder then he thought was possible. “It’s ok,” he reassured her. “Despite your best attempt, I’m still alive.”
“I‘m so sorry.” She looked stricken.
“I can’t quite work you out,” he couldn‘t resist teasing her, “one week you tell me I have to live for Camelot’s sake and the next you almost succeed in mutilating me horribly.”
She flushed as he knew she would at the mention of her words repeated back to her. She dropped her hand, “I don’t remember…I didn’t mean…”
“If you didn’t say them, I must have dreamed them up.”
He laughed softly at the horror his words prompted and decided to let her of the hook. He held up the sword, “what prompted this? When you said you had chores to do, I didn‘t quite picture this,” he asked with genuine curiosity as well as a desire to put her at ease. He eyed it from hilt to blade. It was superb workmanship, her father’s work, no doubt.
She smoothed her hands over the yellow of her dress and he recognized it as a nervous gesture, “I wanted to learn how to fight, how to defend myself.”
He raised a blond eyebrow, “why?”
She raised a hand to brush back a stray curl and he caught the dark mottled bruise scarring her wrist before she pulled her sleeve over it hastily, “I live alone now and…”
“What happened to your arm?”
“N…nothing.”
“Guinevere, I saw the bruising.” she moved back skittishly when he reached forward to take her arm. “What’s going on?”
“I didn’t tell Morgana because I don’t want to worry her. I don’t want her troubled on my behalf.”
“Tell her what?”
She looked around, clearly uncomfortable discussing it out in the open. He took her by the elbow, leading her to a quiet corner of the courtyard, holding up a hand to halt his guards from following him, “wait for me there.”
“Well?” he prompted.
“Last night, Lady Morgana gave me her mink stole because it was so cold and,” she looked past his shoulder as she spoke, “and I was stopped on my way home by some men …”
His hand tightened around the sword instinctively, “what did they want?”
“Money but I didn’t have any and when they realized that, they left me alone.”
His eyes narrowed suspiciously, even as they scanned over her, “they didn’t hurt you?”
She fingered her sleeve, “just my arm but I’m fine. Thank you for your concern but I should really be getting back and…”
“Guinevere,” he held up a hand to stem her flow of words, “let me have a look.”
She rolled up her sleeve hesitantly and held out her arm. He fingered the bruise, touching lightly, barely skimming her skin.
“It looks worse then it is.”
“Have Gaius take a look at it. He should have a salve that will help.” She jumped as his fingers traced it briefly and he pulled back but held her eyes.
“I will.”
“Somebody will accompany you back from the castle when it’s dark.”
She looked up in shock, “there’s no need…”
“There’s every need. Now show me how you would hold that.” He handed the sword back to her to stop any further protestations and ran a critical eye over her posture. “You’re holding it all wrong. You have no control like this.”
He stepped behind her and moved her hands into the right position, “loosen your elbows a little and not so tight with your grip.” He tapped the thumb and forefinger of one hand, “they should float over the hilt…keep your little finger tight and this one too. That’s better.”
He stepped away and ran another eye over her, “bring the sword closer into your body and bend your elbows a little more. That’s right. Does that feel better?”
She moved the sword just a fraction and gave him a grin that lit up her face, “yes.” Her laughter was infectious. “It does.”
“Good. When your arm is healed, maybe you’ll be ready to learn more. For now, go to Gaius and let him treat you.”
She looked at him wonderingly for a moment and he tilted his head, “what?”
“Thank you.”
***
A few days later when Merlin told her of the three men Arthur and his knights had captured in a tavern in a small village on the outskirts of the land, she was careful to keep her face neutral. They had been terrorising locals, Merlin said, mugging and looting what they could as they moved from place to place.
They had been in the heart of Camelot itself, had hurt local women according to Arthur. She flushed at his words, mind hurtling back to the look on Arthur’s face as he examined her wrist.
“He’s a good man to care for his people so,” she finally said, ignoring the ridiculous voice in the back of her mind whispering that Arthur’s expedition had something to do with her.
***
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