Fic: "All This Beauty" (Part 1) | Arthur/Gwen | R | BBC's Merlin

[sarea]

Title: All This Beauty
Authors: Jade and Sarea Okelani
Rating: R
Spoilers: Through 3x10 'Queen of Hearts'
Pairings/Characters: Arthur/Gwen, Merlin/Morgana, Gwen/Lancelot, Uther, Gwaine, Elyan, Morgause, Gaius
Authors' Notes: This is a late Christmas present for our dear friend akscully. We had her pick a few elements (revealed at the end) and crafted a story around them. So everything can pretty much be blamed on her. We began plotting and writing this story after 3x10, so the story is technically AU. Any similarities between elements of this story and canon after 'Queen of Hearts' are purely coincidental -- but awesome!

Summary: It's up to Merlin to keep Arthur, Gwen, and Lancelot from falling apart when Uther puts them in a situation that threatens the future of Camelot.

All This Beauty
by Jade and Sarea Okelani

~*~

The sun was shining. The birds were singing. It was a gorgeous day outside, and for once, Arthur Pendragon's mood matched his surroundings. He was having a great day. A spectacular day. The best day in the history of days.

"You look unbearably smug," said the reason for his good mood.

"That, Guinevere," he replied, "is exactly how I feel." He grinned at her, then pulled the blankets over his head and rolled over, essentially taking them all with him.

"Arthur?"

"What?" His voice was muffled.

"I'm cold."

"Maybe you should put some clothes on." She couldn't see his face, but she could hear the smirk.

"I'd rather have my blankets, thank you." She tugged on them ineffectually. He had good and cocooned himself. She aimed a light punch at what she thought might be his shoulder. Of course, it probably made little impact on someone who wielded a sword for hours every day. He probably hadn't even felt the blow.

"Remember when we had that talk about thinking of someone other than yourself?" Gwen prodded.

In a sudden movement that caused her to let out an involuntary squeal, he lifted the blankets, pounced on her, and re-cocooned them in the space of about half a second.

It was dark in there. And difficult to breathe. But then he was kissing her and neither of those things mattered. After awhile -- neither could say how long -- they resurfaced for air again.

"I need to get a bigger bed," Gwen murmured, tired in a way that was blissful.

"I like it," Arthur responded, stroking her hair hypnotically. She forced herself to stay awake, though she wanted more than anything to fall asleep in his arms.

"You like it," she repeated in a bit of disbelief. "The both of us don't fit in this one."

She felt him smile against her hair. "That's the best part. You have to lie half on top of me. It's bloody fantastic."

"Says the one who takes up about three quarters of it," Gwen scoffed.

"You prefer me to lie on top of you, then?"

This kind of talk could still make Gwen blush, despite the intimacies they'd been sharing for a few months now. She could feel the heat in her cheeks. "You should get back," Gwen said, trying to hide her inexplicable shyness. "You'll be missed."

"And I won't be missed if I leave here?" he demanded, pulling her in a bit tighter.

"You will be missed, my lord," she said, indulging his clear desire to be mollified. "Very much so."

His eyes went half lidded again and he lowered his head toward hers. As difficult as it was to do, Gwen turned her face away teasingly and gave him a slight push. "Don't start that again. We'll never leave this bed if you do."

Arthur sighed. "That doesn't sound terrible to me." However, he grudgingly sat up and began to pull his clothes on.

Gwen kissed his neck while helping him dress, and he grunted and acted as though she were getting in the way, but she knew it helped ease the sting of their imminent parting.

Finally, he was fully dressed and they could not delay the moment any longer. They stood there looking at one another, he fully dressed, she wrapped in the blankets he'd just vacated.

"I don't want to leave," he said, his voice husky.

"One day you won't have to," she responded, smiling.

He crushed her mouth under his in a final kiss, then opened the door and stepped out into a sunlit day. At least no one could take that away.

~*~

Uther Pendragon was trying to read the parchment in front of him, but the words kept blurring together. Obviously, he was not going to get any work done today. Just as yesterday. And the day before that.

"Sire?"

"Leave me," he said, waving his hand. He threw down his quill with a sense of disgust – at himself, for allowing her to distract him in this way, and at her, for being what she was.

"But sire... these agreements... they need to be signed," the court scribe said hesitantly. Very few people ever wanted to contradict the King, and this man was no exception.

Uther did not usually mind an underling's fear. He believed in commanding respect, and if that came from adulation or fear he did not have a preference. Today, however, the man's milquetoast mannerism wore on his already stretched nerves. "I said leave me," he repeated in a dangerously quiet voice.

At this the court scribe and the rest of them left post haste, closing the door soundly behind them. Finally, Uther was alone to wallow in his dark thoughts. The thoughts that plagued him seemingly every waking moment, as well as those when he was asleep. That his daughter, his Morgana, could be one of them, part of that evil, duplicitous, scheming group ... he still found difficult to believe at times. How was it possible that a child of his blood could be so tainted? It must be due to her mother; there was no other explanation.

Or possibly that Morgana was not actually his child after all. He'd never had reason to doubt her mother before, but now, with her being asorceress, he'd had to consider the idea that perhaps he hadn't been Lysandra's only lover. Still, regardless of whether or not she was his blood daughter, he'd grown to care about her over the years, even love her. For her to have betrayed him like this, to be one of the enemy after all he'd given her, rankled. It shook him to his core. If evil could find its way so close to his home, where else might it lurk?

"My lord, you seem to be thinking unpleasant thoughts," said an amused and lilting voice. A familiar voice.

Uther whipped around in its direction, unable to believe what he was hearing. How dare she return here? He opened his mouth to call for his guards, but she was too quick. One muttered spell later and he was rooted to the spot, unable to speak or move.

"That's better," Morgana said, coming into view from behind a pillar where she'd apparently been hiding. Or perhaps she'd only just arrived. Who knew what she was capable of? She was just as beautiful as he remembered, dressed in a dark green gown that complemented her long dark hair perfectly. Her pale skin was as creamy and unblemished as always, her eyes wide and sparkling. Was her preternatural beauty a result of the magic that ran in her veins? Had it been a sign that he should not have missed? "I like it best when you don't talk."

She walked toward where he sat, her movements fluid. She had a pleasant smile on her face, so like all the other smiles she'd given him over the years, but which he now knew had been full of treachery. Uther hoped his disgust of her showed in his eyes, since all his facial muscles were frozen.

"What's the matter? You don't look happy to see me," she said, sounding amused. She had reached him now, and stretched out a hand to caress his face.

Uther wanted to flinch back from that strangely warm touch, which once he would have welcomed. It didn't seem right that her touch should be full of heat, like a normal human being's. It ought to be cold, like her heart, like the witch she was.

"Don't be frightened, my lord. I'm here to help you." The sweetness of Morgana's tone belied the mischief in her eyes. "You don't believe me?" His gaze must have conveyed his scorn, for she laughed. "I assure you it's true. You see, neither of us want to see my old serving girl on the throne of Camelot." She raised her eyebrows. "Surprised? I know you believe that problem took care of itself, but that is because you are a gullible old fool. There isn't an enchantment. There was never an enchantment. Arthur is in love with her, and she him. Once you are dead and Arthur is made king, he plans to make her his queen. I have seen it in visions."

Was this ... could this be true? Morgana was a witch, Uther reminded himself. She was not to be trusted. All she spoke were lies.

"You should be thanking me," Morgana continued. "I am going to take care of one of your problems for you, a problem you didn't even know you had because of your willful blindness. Neither of us want a servant as Camelot's queen, and I am going to see it never comes to pass. I believe that is one of our common goals. Yes, Uther, you heard me -- one of. For you and I are more alike than you think, Father." All traces of amusement had gone now. "And yes, I know the truth of my birth. How it must burn you inside to know that you fathered a child of magic." She clasped his face in her hands, hard. Had she the strength she might have crushed his skull. "You don't know how lucky you are, Father dearest."

Uther didn't want to be afraid of Morgana, his own flesh and blood. But even more he did not want to be afraid of Morgana, the sorceress. He did not want the latter to have the satisfaction. But he could not deny the fissure of fear that opened in his heart. What was she planning? Arthur's feelings for the serving girl Gwen had been due to an enchantment, which had been broken. Hadn't it? If Uther was honest with himself he would admit that he'd caught Arthur staring at the girl several times since that time, but had never made any mention of it to his son. Perhaps he'd been content to ignore the signs, the ones that had shown that the enchantment had not been broken after all, or worse, that it had never existed in the first place.

But even if that were true, time would take care of the matter soon enough. Arthur's supposed feelings for this girl wouldn't last. It was a fleeting fancy, an infatuation because the girl was comely, that was all. The evils of magic weren't necessary under any circumstance. He'd learned that painful lesson first hand.

"You don't seem convinced." Morgana drew back and a smile had returned to her beautiful face. A familiar ring sat in the palm of her hand. Uther's heart started at the sight of it. Where had she gotten that? He wanted to demand an answer, but couldn't. The ring was made of a burnished gold, with a dragonfly crest, muted in its elegance. Morgana whispered a few words in a language he did not understand, and her eyes glowed.

The fissure opened a bit more.

Uther felt Morgana slip the dragonfly ring onto the last finger of his right hand. He felt her breath against his ear as she whispered, "Until next time, my lord." He felt the delicate wisps of her hair against his cheek as she drew away.

And then he felt no more.

~*~

"It is done, Sister."

Morgause turned at the sound of Morgana's voice. A smile broke out on her face. "Excellent. You did everything we discussed?"

Morgana helped herself to some fruit and cheese from the table. "Of course. Uther will not remember I was there, but he'll remember the information I gave him about Arthur and Gwen."

"And the ring I gave you? The one that belonged to Ygraine?"

"I've placed a strong enchantment on it." Morgana was proud of what she'd done. It was usually Morgause who did the difficult magic, but this time she had insisted that she would take care of it. She wanted to be a strong partner for Morgause. "It will open his mind to extreme possibilities. He'll find creative ways to solve his problems and ours without our having to do a thing."

Morgause placed a hand on Morgana's arm. "Subtle, but effective. I am proud of you, Sister."

Morgana smiled, feeling pleasure travel from the gentle pressure of her sister's hand to her heart.

~*~

"I have a proclamation to make. It will take effect immediately."

"Yes, Father." Arthur was only half listening. His mind kept wandering back to the morning's activities, the image of Gwen wrapped in blankets. It was all he could do to keep a foolish grin from appearing on his face.

"Henceforth, all unmarried women will be subject to questioning under suspicion of sorcery, and if found guilty by my council, will be put to death immediately."

It took a second for the words to sink in. "What?" For a hopeful moment Arthur wondered if his father were joking, but he knew as well as anyone that Uther did not joke about magic. Ever. "Have you lost your mind?"

"How dare you?" Uther slammed his hand onto the table, making the goblets rattle. "I am your father and your king. You will show me some respect."

It was as though someone had thrown a bucket of ice-cold water over Arthur. The warmth he'd been feeling from the morning dissipated. "Yes, sire. I apologize. But -- why? I'm not sure I understand your reasoning. It doesn't even--"

"You don't need to understand my reasoning, Arthur, you only need to do your duty and carry out your king's wishes," Uther said. "Is that understood?"

"No!" Arthur burst out, unable to help himself. "This is asinine! There must be dozens of unmarried women in Camelot. Are they all to suffer through an interrogation?"

Uther waved his hand dismissively. "If they are truly innocent, they can be married at once."

"Just like that," Arthur said in disbelief. "Just ... get married."

"There's no reason a woman of marriageable age should not be married," said Uther.

Arthur could barely find the words to counter this, it was so out of the realm of reason. "Well, perhaps they haven't found the right man."

"If they wish to prove their innocence, they will." Uther looked supremely unconcerned with how his decree would affect women all over the kingdom.

"Prove their inno-- Father, this is madness. Why would an unmarried woman be more prone to sorcery than any other?"

"I know it to be true." Uther looked utterly certain. No doubt whatsoever crossed his features.

Still, Arthur had to try and dissuade him. He'd always known that his father's hatred of magic superseded all else, possibly even common sense at times. It didn't make Uther weak; just human. Arthur was willing to give him the benefit of the doubt most of the time. But this... he could not let this stand. "Father--"

Uther's gaze pierced Arthur where he stood, his face looking graver than Arthur had ever seen it. "Don't think I don't know why you're so concerned about this, Arthur."

The blood seemed to freeze in Arthur's veins. "I don't know what you're talking about."

"Do you think me a fool? I know about Morgana's serving girl. I know you have feelings for her." Uther didn't blink as he delivered these blows.

"Any feelings I had for her were the result of an enchantment, which was lifted. You know that," Arthur said as steadily as he could.

"You lie." Uther's voice was deadly calm.

"Father--" Arthur didn't know what he wanted to say. To deny it and lie bald faced about his feelings for Gwen, which he was frankly sick of doing? Admit the truth and cause Gwen to be banished again? There were no good choices here.

"Your paramour will face questioning just as any other unmarried woman," said Uther. "If she is innocent, she has nothing to fear."

Now Arthur was angry. "She is innocent. But you are obviously on a witch hunt. And given what you believe about my feelings for her, I cannot be certain that her innocence will be fairly judged."

"You doubt the council's ability to be fair?"

"I doubt yours." It was a bold, even stupid, thing to say. But Arthur could not help it. This insane proclamation was obviously targeted toward Gwen. His father had somehow realized that Arthur's feelings for her were real and not the result of an enchantment, and this was his way of destroying them once and for all.

Instead of becoming angry, Uther merely inclined his head. "I understand how you must feel. You care for the girl--"

"I am not indignant on the behalf of one woman, but all the women you are subjecting to this unnecessary and illogical inquisition!" Arthur shouted.

"We are in the midst of a war, Arthur, and every day that passes our defenses grow weaker while our enemy grows stronger. Magic is our enemy, and I mean to deal it a killing blow. You may think it extreme. You may disagree with my methods. But one day you will be king and you will have to make difficult, but necessary, decisions as I have had to do."

The worst part of all this, Arthur thought through his red haze of rage, was that Uther looked utterly satisfied by his decision. At peace, even. It was obvious that he'd made up his mind and nothing was going to change it. His first instinct was to announce that if Uther was bound and determined to follow this course, then he would marry Gwen. But he forced himself to calm down, just a little, so he could let rationality take hold. He could not offer to do such a thing. Uther would oppose the very idea and it would put Gwen in even more danger than she was already in.

There was only one solution, at least for the near term. His father had left him with no other choice. But he needed help to put the plan into action. He needed Merlin.

Uther took Arthur's silence for acquiescence. He placed fatherly hands on Arthur's shoulders. "I know it's difficult, but one day, you'll see that I was right."

Arthur turned his head away so that Uther could not see the rage he knew he couldn't keep off his face. "Yes, Father," he replied, keeping his voice at a normal volume, with effort.

Uther patted his son's cheek fondly, then released him.

Arthur forced himself to meet Uther's gaze and give a slight nod. He forced himself to turn and walk out of the room at a normal, unhurried pace. He even forced himself to acknowledge the two guards standing outside the room at their posts.

But he could not force himself not to slam the throne room's doors shut.

~*~

"Merlin, wake up."

"I already cleaned it," Merlin mumbled, then sat straight up in bed, startled by the presence in his room. Gaius watched him with an amused expression. "Sorry, what?"

"I was just waking you," Gaius said. "I need you to travel into town and fetch me some supplies. I've left you a list on the table. I'll be making my rounds this morning. Do please hurry so the merchants don't run out of anything."

And while he would rather be sleeping, Merlin knew he owed Gaius more than a few early morning errands could ever repay, so he dressed with sleepy clumsiness and stared longingly at his nice, warm bed. The cold air outside did wonders to wake him up and Merlin was soon setting out to the market exchange, outside the palace walls, where most of Gaius's more unusual ingredients could be procured.

The market was bustling, vendors displaying their wares with loud cries and the occasional unwelcome grope. Merlin made his way the usual route, gathering all the ingredients Gaius needed in less than an hour. He was about to make his way back to the palace when something caught his eye. Something... feathery?

"Filthy things," the woman selling pickled meat commented beside him. "Supposedly birds, but give me a chicken any day. And the price they're asking for one? Barely any meat on their bones, is there?"

"Ah, yes. They may be on the slight side and look rather gangly, but we know looks can be deceiving, don't we, Merlin?"

A grin broke out on Merlin's face and he spun around to regard a man partially concealed behind a thick, rough-looking cloak.

"Gwaine!"

"Not so loud," Gwaine hissed, looking around furtively as he accepted the manly embrace of welcome Merlin offered. "Come on, you'll never believe who I ran into on my travels."

Gwaine led him to a small tent next to a pen where the tall, gangly birds resided. "What are they?" Merlin asked with barely concealed delight.

"Ostriches," a familiar voice answered from inside the tent. "A most loyal and fetching bird."

"Lancelot!" Merlin looked between the two men. "Is this some sort of reunion? Are we all in terrible danger?"

"No," Gwaine said, waving off Merlin's concern. "It's just a business venture between two weary travelers who happen to each hold the distinction of having been too amazing for the great Uther Pendragon to bear. We decided we'd rather be working toward building something instead of fighting against everything; even if what we're building stinks of bird shit."

"Lots of bird shit," Lancelot confided. "But it's an honest living."

"What do they... do?" Merlin asked.

"What don't they do?" Gwaine replied. "You can race them, eat them, keep them as pets to scare away intruders -- I mean, really, would you try to rob someone who had one of those ugly buggers tied out front?"

"Fair point," Merlin conceded with a laugh.

Lancelot cleared his throat. "So, everyone is... well?"

Merlin thought that 'everyone' probably meant Gwen, so he said, "Everyone is well," even though there were pages and pages he could have gone on about Morgana and Morgause and the threat they posed. Lancelot seemed pretty happy selling ostriches with Gwaine, though, and Merlin thought it best not to worry him with things he was expressly forbidden to do anything about.

Also, if he knew Camelot was in danger, he was likely to go charging in to defend it, damn the consequences, and Merlin had enough of that nonsense to deal with where Arthur was concerned.

They exchanged a few more friendly words and Merlin promised to come back for a longer visit before they departed, and on an occasion when he did not have pressing deliveries for Gaius. He set off back to the palace and had not made it more than a few feet inside its walls before he saw Arthur barreling toward him, an angry, defiant look on his face.

"This won't go well," Merlin muttered to himself.

"Merlin."

Yikes. Arthur had that tone in his voice Merlin absolutely hated, the one that usually preceded some sort of completely disgusting task that no one ought to be forced into doing, least of all the person who saved the Crown Prince's life on an almost daily basis. Not that anyone actually knew about that.

"Yes, sire?" Merlin asked cheerfully.

"We must speak," Arthur said. His eyes were serious, heavy lidded. "Meet me at Guinevere's home as soon as possible."

"Why are we going there?"

Arthur swallowed and looked like he was going to be sick. "My father has made a proclamation. Guinevere is to be married at once, or face immediate execution."

Merlin's face split into an enormous grin. "A bit extreme, I'll grant you, but good news in the end, eh? Congratulations!"

Glaring, Arthur punched Merlin nonetoolightly on the shoulder. "She isn't allowed to marry me, you jibbering idiot. I have a plan, but we cannot discuss it here. My father would try to stop me if he knew what I was thinking."

"I don't understand."

"Yes, you never do," Arthur agreed, before turning on his heel to stalk away like a very sulky little prince. "Merlin. As soon as possible," he called back, not bothering to turn around.

"As soon as possible," Merlin mimicked once he was positive Arthur was out of earshot.

"Merlin!"

Fuck! "Ears like a bat," he muttered, before turning to make his way down to Gwen's house.

~*~

"The answer is obvious," Arthur said, pacing with an air of impatience, after having explained the situation to his audience of two.

Merlin, leaning against the wardrobe, exchanged looks with Gwen. She was ashen faced, and if she hadn't already been seated at the table, Merlin suspected she would have needed a chair. Well if she wasn't going to say it, he would. "It is?"

"Of course it is," Arthur snapped. "Guinevere and I will leave Camelot, as I intended before. I've led my father to believe that I am going along with this proclamation of his -- I don't want to chance that he'll have guards dogging my heels. I'm not even going back to the castle. Merlin, you'll have to get my things for me -- pack lightly, and make sure no one sees you. I'll arrange for transportation in town. Guinevere, take only what you need. We may be on the road some time, and --"

"I'm not leaving Camelot."

This stopped Arthur's orders in their tracks. "Guinevere. We're leaving. It's the only solution."

Gwen's voice was quiet but firm. "I've told you, Arthur. I cannot let you give up the throne for me. Your people need you, now more than ever, with Morgana--"

Arthur's jaw clenched at the mention of the woman he'd loved like a sister, who had betrayed them all. "We're not leaving forever." He took a seat at the table with Gwen and took one of her hands in his. "We'll come back one day."

"When your father is dead, you mean?" Gwen said baldly. "He is your father, Arthur. And even if you were prepared to make that sacrifice, and never see or speak to him again, what would Camelot think of a prince who had left them for... five... ten... who knows how many years, then returned one day expecting to rule the kingdom? They want and deserve a king they love and respect. If you leave, Arthur, you won't be that."

"Then we won't return," Arthur said steadily, never looking away from Gwen's face. Merlin felt rather awkward to be witness to an obviously intimate discussion. "We'll live out our lives as a farmer and his wife."

"I wish it were that simple, but it's not. You're Prince Arthur, and Camelot needs you," Gwen said miserably, taking her hand from his and looking away, tears falling from her eyes. "One day you will be a great king, and I would never want to be the cause of that not coming true."

"Guinevere," Arthur said, and this time his voice was less steady. His eyes were starting to look a bit red and watery as well. Merlin cleared his throat softly and wondered if he could slip out the door without either of them noticing. "We can't be naive. You know my father has come up with this mad scheme because I'm terrible at hiding how I feel for you, and he means to solve the problem once and for all. He will kill you. And I will die before I let that happen."

"Then I'll leave."

"No. If I have to stay, I could not bear it if you were gone." Arthur's empty hand clenched into a fist on the table. He looked as though he wanted to grab Gwen, as if she were going to disappear right in front of his eyes.

"Arthur, there's no other solution," Gwen said in despair.

"Actually..." Arthur and Gwen both started and turned to Merlin when he spoke, as if they'd forgotten he was in the room. Which they probably had. "That's not exactly true."

"What is it, Merlin, don't keep us in suspense," said Arthur, not sounding convinced that Merlin would have a solution at all.

"Er... well, the thing is... I need to make sure... well. Sorry. I'll be right back," Merlin said, dashing out the door.

A little suspense wouldn't kill them.

~*~

"Arthur, please stop pacing, you're making me anxious," Gwen implored. Not that she would be considerably less anxious if he stopped, but she didn't want him to think she was worried (though she was), and anyway she was getting a bit dizzy watching him do it.

He sat down at the table with her, his expression sullen. "What is taking him so long? Maybe we should just leave."

"Stop it," she admonished, getting up to fill their cups with more water. Frankly she could use something a little stronger than water, but the sight of her drinking a jugful of wine would probably make Arthur more determined than ever to pursue his plan of the two of them leaving Camelot.

She'd just put the pitcher back when the door opened, letting in a small gust of wind, Merlin, and two modestly garbed men who seemed strangely familiar.

"Lancelot," she said in surprise, just as Arthur said, "Gwaine!"

"And I thought my disguise was fairly decent," Gwaine grumbled.

Merlin grinned. "Saw the two of them in town earlier and thought they might be able to help."

Arthur was greeting both men, though one with less enthusiasm than the other, while Gwen was starting to get a bad feeling. "Merlin--" she began, going to stand next to him.

"Yes, Gwen?" He sounded forcefully cheerful.

"Is your plan that I should leave Camelot with Gwaine and Lancelot?"

"Not... exactly."

"I was afraid of that. I don't think Arthur's going to like this plan."

Merlin looked down at her with serious eyes. "He doesn't really have a choice, does he?"

Gwen didn't answer. The greetings were over and everyone took a seat but Arthur and Merlin, who explained his plan. "It's simple, really. Gwen needs a temporary husband while Arthur works to help the King see reason about the lack of correlation between an unmarried woman and sorcery. Lancelot, being the one who's not actually banished from Camelot, has volunteered to play the part of Gwen's husband, and Gwaine has agreed to perform the ceremony."

There was a moment of silence. Gwen met Lancelot's gaze. "I can't ask you to do this," she said.

"This is total madness," Arthur announced. "I should have known, Merlin. Only you would come up with a harebrained scheme like this--"

Everyone erupted in argument all at once. It was Gwaine who was finally heard above the din. "I think what we all want is to keep Gwen's pretty little head on her shoulders where it belongs, so if anyone has a better suggestion, let's hear it."

No one spoke.

"It's not forever--" Merlin said.

"If I can't change my father's mind it might as well be," Arthur said bitterly.

"Then you'd better change his mind," said Gwaine.

"This is too much to ask of Lancelot," said Gwen, shaking her head. "If Arthur cannot make the King see reason, he could be stuck in this situation for years."

"I gladly give my life in service to Prince Arthur and Camelot," said Lancelot, though his gaze never left Gwen's.

"Guinevere's right," Arthur said abruptly. "We can't ask this of you."

"You didn't ask," said Lancelot. "I offered."

Gwen felt incredibly grateful to him for making such a selfless sacrifice for her and Arthur, but she couldn't help but feel that he was perhaps doing it for the wrong reasons. When they last parted, she had told him things, things that had come from her heart but also the heightened emotions under which she'd been operating due to circumstance. Things were different now, different with Arthur, and different with her. He should have all the information before making a decision like this. "I'd like to speak with Lancelot alone," she said. Arthur shot her a significant look, which she forced herself to pretend not to see. "If after we've spoken, he still agrees to do this, we'll move forward."

Gwaine nodded. "Arthur, when is your father making this proclamation?"

"It's probably too late in the day at this point," Arthur said, now not looking at any of them. "I'd say most likely first thing tomorrow morning."

"I leave for Mercia on the morrow, so I can perform the false ceremony this afternoon," said Gwaine. "I have to admit, I've always wanted to pretend to be a priest." Everyone laughed wanly. "Merlin, you'll take care of the witnesses and marriage record?"

Merlin nodded. "Consider it done."

"You two," Gwaine said, gesturing between Lancelot and Gwen. "Find some wedding garb."

Gwen stood and went to Arthur. She could tell he was upset. But surely he had to see that this was a good solution. This way she could stay in Camelot, he wouldn't have to give up the throne, and if he could convince Uther to rescind the proclamation, things could go back to the way they had been, with little disruption. Of course, if he couldn't... well, if she couldn't marry Arthur, it made no difference to her who the world thought she was married to. The person whose life would be affected the most was actually Lancelot, which was why she had to be sure he knew what he was sacrificing. She touched Arthur's arm, which was corded and tense. "Arthur?"

"You'd really rather do this than leave Camelot with me?" he asked quietly, his blue eyes full of hurt.

"I'm doing this for you, and for Camelot, which we both love so dear," Gwen responded. "I know it doesn't feel that way right now. But Arthur, I'm also doing this because I am hoping for the best thing of all, that you will be able to change your father's mind and we will be able to go on as we have."

Looking at him, Gwen had to marvel again how genuinely he seemed to care for her. Despite everything, it was at times hard to believe that someone like him loved someone like her; hard to believe he meant all the beautiful, sweet things he told her, even if he thought he did. He was going to be the King of Camelot one day and she was a maid. She wondered sometimes if he fully realized the implications of what that meant, or if he was too blinded by physical attraction to see it. She of course wanted to believe their love was more than that, that she meant more, but still it was sometimes as though she were dreaming a wonderful, foolish dream.

Arthur took her hand and placed a hard kiss on it, the only thing he would allow himself to do in front of an audience. "Talk to Lancelot," he said. "I will accept whatever decision you make."

Any answer she might have made was lost in her throat as he turned, nodded to Lancelot, then swiftly departed, his eyes strangely bright.

~*~

He'd thought perhaps time and memory had exaggerated her beauty. Maybe he'd only hoped it. Whatever the case, he'd been wrong. Gwen was just as beautiful as he remembered, maybe even more so. She was dressed more plainly than when he'd last seen her, but her simplicity had partially been what had attracted him to her in the first place. She wasn't a diamond, obvious and ostentatious in its beauty; she was a flower on the side of the road, unexpected, giving color to an otherwise drab landscape, yet easily overlooked by impatient travelers.

Lancelot was not an impatient traveler. He had a lot of patience. It was what made him a good swordsman. It was what made Arthur a good swordsman, too, but the Prince of Camelot seemed to lack patience in many other respects. Studying Gwen, who looked as though she had no idea how to start now that she'd gotten him out here in her small little garden with her, Lancelot had to amend the thought. It seemed Arthur Pendragon was also capable of exercising patience in matters of love.

"How are you?" was Gwen's opening salvo. "You look well."

Lancelot smiled. He would make small talk with her if that would set her at ease, even though it was wholly unnecessary. He felt as comfortable with her now as the day they'd met. "I am well. You look well yourself. Indeed, you have not changed at all since last we met, my lady."

"I'm not a lady," she objected at once, clasping her hands and wringing them slightly. "But never mind that." She bit her lip. "Lancelot--"

"I know what you're going to say," he said.

"No, you don't." Gwen held out her clasped hands to him, as if imploring. "When I last saw you, I said some things..."

Lancelot inclined his head. "You want to tell me that you're in love with Arthur and that things have changed since you said those things to me while trapped in a cell awaiting your death sentence."

She looked at him doe eyed, her mouth slightly open. "No," she said stubbornly, then relaxed into a wry, slightly relieved half smile. "All right, yes. Something like that. How did you know?"

"About you and Arthur? I'm afraid it's pretty obvious. It was obvious then, too."

"Is that why you left?" It sounded as though it were a question she had wanted the answer to for some time.

"Partly, yes," Lancelot acknowledged. "But also because I wasn't good enough for you then. I'm still not good enough for you." He grinned. "But you need me, and I can help, so here we are."

"Oh, Lancelot, if anything, you are too good for me," Gwen said, looking miserable. She chewed her lip. "Lancelot... I'm sorry." He knew she meant for more than just the circumstance of their failed romance.

"I am, too," he said. "It doesn't change how I feel about you." Lancelot had decided that he could do nothing less than be completely open with her. She deserved to know how he truly felt, and it was perhaps the only way to convince her that he was going into this with his eyes wide open.

Gwen colored and shook her head. "This is why I can't allow you to make this sacrifice for me -- for us. It's not fair."

Lancelot shrugged. He hadn't had a bath in several days and probably stank of ostrich shit. To her credit, Gwen didn't seem to notice at all. It was one of the things that was so easy to love about her. "What's fair? Life is life. None of us choose who we love. There will never be another for me but you. Should I live to be a hundred no other woman will turn my head. So what difference does it make if I tie myself to you now, whether it be a real or false union?"

Gwen turned away, her hands on her cheeks. "Please don't say these things."

"I'm only telling you the truth. You needn't feel that you are somehow robbing me of something. If anything the excuse to be by your side is more than payment enough. Or if you'd prefer I wasn't, it's easy enough to concoct a story that your husband is a traveling merchant. I need not stay in Camelot very long, only to keep up appearances."

Gwen was shaking her head. "You'd be giving up your life, your freedom. For nothing. For a story. Another woman may take your fancy one day and you should have every right to pursue her. You don't understand. It is not certain that Arthur will be able to convince the King that his latest plans are madness, clearly devised to keep me and his son apart. It could be years, decades, before he passes and Arthur can change the law. That is too much to ask of anyone."

"I told you both in there," Lancelot replied. "You're not asking. I am offering. I say again that it is no hardship on my behalf. I would be telling a falsehood if I did not admit that part of me hopes that in time, you may come to care for me... the way you care for Arthur now. Maybe not in the same way. But no one knows what the future holds. I don't wish either of you ill, never that. In fact, were it up to me I wish you both long life and happiness together. But Gwen..." Here he placed a gentle hand on her shoulder, turning her to face him. "The only thing I ask in return is that you not destroy my hopes completely." His heart was in this throat. He felt relief and elation course through him when, after a brief moment of hesitation, she nodded.

"I don't want to lie to you. My heart is with Arthur," Gwen said, her eyes moist. "But I promise you that if my heart were free, you are the only person I'd consider." She looked as though she wanted to say more, but seemed to change her mind. She looked unhappy.

Lancelot placed a finger under her chin and tilted her head up so their gazes could meet. "I can ask no more of you."

~*~

Thankfully, they were not actually in a church; even Gwaine did not believe himself possessed of enough gumption to impersonate a priest in God's own house. Gwen's house was small, but the dining table had been pushed far to the side and a few chairs had been set out and occupied by the small gathering of people. Guinevere wore the same thing she'd been wearing when Gwaine had seen her earlier, and Lancelot was still dressed in the clothes he'd worn to feed the ostriches that morning.

It would have been romantic, the idea of them wanting to get married, and damn the ceremony, had everyone present not been so bloody unhappy. Everyone was seated, and since Gwaine had his marching orders, he simply began as soon as Lancelot and Gwen stood before him.

"Dearly beloved -- sort of -- we are gathered here today in the presence of witnesses -- some of them hostile -- to marry this man to this woman -- so that this woman is not burned at the stake."

"Just get on with it," Arthur urged through clenched teeth.

Gwen looked miserable, Merlin looked contemplative, Arthur looked angry, and Lancelot looked tortured. Gwaine was far more amused by the proceedings than he ought to have been, but come on -- it was plain as day that Arthur and Gwen were mad for each other, and the idea that the horrible, insufferable man the future king called his father was behind all this misery -- well. It took a much better man than Gwaine considered himself to be to not find the entire situation amusing.

He also wondered if Arthur would still be as keen about defending verbal slurs hurled against his old man and sovereign king right about now just as Gwaine said the words "man and wife."

"This is a genuinely peculiar wedding," one of Merlin's "guests" commented. Gwaine held in a laugh at great personal cost. Trust the boy to do as he'd told him.

The woman was at least ninety, half blind, and deaf in both ears, and she was obviously the more highly functioning of the pair; her husband made the most distracting hacking sound every few moments for no apparent reason, and always asked her, loudly, what she had just said to him, only silencing when she hit him. They would do well as the witnesses to the wedding Arthur would present if his father demanded proof of Gwen's marriage.

"Um... Reverend?" Guinevere prompted, eyeing the man-of-the-cloth garb Gwaine had procured for the occasion.

"Of course," Gwaine said, smiling broadly. "Let us dispense with the formalities. Do you, Guinevere, promise that you will love Lancelot, honor and obey him, and forsaking all others, be faithful--" Gwaine sent Arthur a knowing look the prince returned with a glare, "--only to him until death parts you?"

"I do," Gwen agreed, looking more like she was agreeing to her own funeral. She spared an apologetic smile toward her groom.

"And you," Gwaine said, nodding Lancelot's way. "Same bits."

The old gentleman made a sound like a cat with a wool blanket in its throat, then quieted.

Lancelot looked startled at the noise, as well as the abruptness of the question, but Gwaine privately thought putting him through the actual words seemed a little crueler and, as they'd grown close over the past few months, Gwaine felt bad about bringing harm to one of the most genuinely good people he'd ever known.

"I do," Lancelot said quietly. Before Gwaine could move things along, his partner added, a little louder, "I vow to be at my lady's service until death takes me from her."

There was silence over the proceedings for a moment. Merlin broke it with an exceptionally loud and overdone throat clearing he'd clearly learned from his seat mate. Arthur couldn't make up his mind who to glare at, and Guinevere looked positively distraught.

"My word, is that angry young man the Crown Prince?" the old woman asked Merlin loudly.

"What was that?" her husband asked loudly. "Mince meat? Where?"

The old woman slapped him on the arm and Gwaine quickly moved to bring the farce to a close.

"By the not entirely real power vested in me, I now pronounce you man and wife. You may kiss your bride."

Lancelot did, quickly and chastely, the two of them looking extremely awkward as they were both hyper aware of their audience.

"So romantic," the old woman commented. Arthur handed her husband a handkerchief to pass her way. She smiled, teary eyed, at both of them.

"Well, I hate to wed and run, but there's this inconvenient banishment business," Gwaine said.

"Wait," Merlin said, standing. "You must sign the official record."

"Right." Gwaine nodded and signed a false name with a flourish. Merlin handed a quill to the older couple, and after an exhaustive process that involved explaining to them what they were signing at least three times, it was done. Everyone was miserable, but they were alive, and that was a start.

"Thank you," Guinevere said, smiling at Gwaine with a tight, sad expression.

"I'd say you're welcome..." They shared a smile as he turned to leave. "Good luck and God bless to you all."

Arthur glared at him -- as if the idea had taken root that this whole muddled affair was somehow Gwaine's fault for being the one to technically marry the two of them. Look a little closer to home before you start throwing stones, Majesty.

Ah, well. It would all turn out right in the end. Merlin had seemed convinced this was the best way to play things for now, and Gwaine had learned that there was a great deal more to Merlin than met the eye. He'd take good care of Arthur and Gwen. Then, after Lancelot got his little heart broken again, Gwaine would buy him a pint and agree that all the beautiful, perfect women in the world were taken, and they'd find someone else to buy an ostrich.

Such was life.

~*~

The knock at the door came just as Gwen was coming in from the back after having taken down her freshly laundered clothing. The basket was heavy and nearly overflowing with several weeks' worth of laundry, including sheets. The problem with being responsible for much of the castle's laundry was that she rarely had time to do her own.

"Just a second," she called, setting the basket down onto the bed. It was probably Lancelot, who had said he needed to take care of some business in town. She calmed her thumping heart. She was hoping that whatever he had to do would take awhile, so she would have time to consider what she wanted to say to him, how she should behave. What she could say that could properly convey her gratitude for the sacrifice he was making, yet reiterate, gently, that things had changed since the last time they'd seen one another. She was concerned that he hadn't quite seemed to understand when they'd talked earlier. "That was quicker than I thought," she said, putting on a smile and opening the door.

It wasn't Lancelot. The man who stood at the door was fairer, though the scowl on his face was dark.

"Arthur," she said in surprise, her smile dropping. "Is something wrong?"

"Other than that you're married to someone else? No. Nothing." He entered, looking red eyed and agitated. He looked how she felt. "Lancelot here?"

"No. And I'm not really married," she gently reminded him, shutting the door.

"I know." His hair looked even more unkempt than usual, as if he'd been running his fingers through it. "Won't you change your mind? We could just pack a few things, have Merlin saddle up two horses, and go." Arthur didn't seem to know what to do with himself. He kept picking things up and putting them down again.

"Arthur, we've discussed this," Gwen said hollowly. "You cannot leave. I won't be the reason Camelot loses you as its king."

He swore, and Gwen hurried over to take a plate from his hands, fearing he would break it in two. "Or maybe my crown is all you really care about."

Gwen's open palm swung in an arc before she even knew what she was doing. It connected with Arthur's perfect cheekbone with a satisfying crack. He reached up with tentative fingers to touch his reddening skin, an incredulous look on his face. "You deserved that," she said, spinning around to continue folding the laundry, or clearing the table, or anything but look at him. She was still angry with him, but was also mortified at having actually hit him.

She'd only just picked up a sleeve on a dress when Arthur grabbed her arms in his hands and spun her around, backing her up to a wall. "Don't manhandle me!" she said angrily, struggling in his grasp. It was no use. He only grabbed her wrists and pinned them up against the wall with hands that were like manacles.

"All right," Arthur said. "Maybe I did deserve that. But I can't help it! I say stupid things when I'm afraid, and everything I want is out of my reach and I'm powerless!"

"Afraid?" Gwen repeated.

"Yes, afraid," Arthur bit out, obviously hating to admit such a thing. "It's you -- and Lancelot -- I know how you feel for one another --"

"Oh," Gwen said, realization dawning. Why had she failed to see this? Maybe because Arthur was usually so confident, arrogant even, that it hadn't occurred to her that he would feel threatened by Lancelot. "You're jealous?" It came out as a question because she still didn't really believe it.

"Of course I'm bloody jealous," he said raggedly. "Whatever the ruse, the world thinks you belong to him now. He claimed you as his in front of everyone."

"No man has claimed me," Gwen said quietly, both to ease his jealousy about Lancelot, and to remind him that for all his promises, she had no true guarantee of his intentions, either.

"You're wrong," Arthur said, then kissed her where she stood, the searing heat of his mouth turning her knees to liquid. He kissed her as if he were a drowning man and she was the last sip of water on Earth. He didn't let up even when she started moaning. His tongue tangled with hers and his teeth were nipping her lips, and the kiss was messy and wet and desperate. She felt all the love he had for her in his kiss, and luckily he was still holding her wrists against the wall or she might have slid right down at this riotous assault on her senses.

The kiss went on and on and seemed to last no time at all; then his lips were on her throat and her hands were in his hair and she was fumbling with the fasteners on his breeches while his hands were on her naked thighs. Then somehow Arthur was right there between them, pressing her up against the wall, and she had to wrap her arms around him and hang on for dear life as he thrust into her without any further preliminaries, his strokes hard and fast and exactly what she wanted.

Gwen gasped in his ear and held him tight, trying to draw the pleasure out, wanting it to last, but it was too good and they were both too ready; within moments she was crying out as she reached her pinnacle, and soon after, he followed, his long, deep groan like music in her ears.

~*~

After Gwen and Lancelot's theatrical marriage ceremony, Merlin had accompanied Arthur back to the castle. The Prince had been understandably subdued, and Merlin didn't think any attempts to make light of the situation would be well received. Contrary to Arthur's personal beliefs, Merlin didn't actually try to deliberately annoy him.

Once at the castle doors, however, Arthur had stopped suddenly. Merlin had stopped with him.

"You go on," Arthur had said. "I need some time to myself." With that, he'd headed back toward the direction of Gwen's house, which had come as no surprise to Merlin.

Merlin himself had continued toward the record keeper's chamber, handing the old man Gwen and Lancelot's signed marriage papers for the public registry. The record keeper had peered at the parchment as though trying to reveal it as a fake (for some reason he had never liked Merlin very much), but after awhile had grudgingly accepted it to be real. If only he knew, Merlin chuckled to himself. It had been some of his finest conjuring work to date. Alas, no one was able to appreciate it but him. If Uther were to check, Gwen's marriage would be perfectly in order, filed away neatly before the influx of marriages that were certain to happen tomorrow once the decree was made.

If you asked Merlin, which no one ever did, but he liked to have an answer ready in his head in case someone did ever ask him his opinion, Uther was getting madder by the minute. Unmarried women were more prone to sorcery than married women? Ludicrous. It was either a completely transparent attempt to once again keep Gwen and Arthur apart -- which would not surprise Merlin in the least -- or Uther truly believed such nonsense, which would not be atypical of him, but which only further proved that he was unfit for the throne he occupied.

After submitting Gwen and Lancelot's marriage papers, Merlin headed toward the dining room, where he was scheduled to help serve the midday meal.

"Where is my son?" Uther asked, when the food dishes began to arrive and Arthur still had not shown up.

"I don't know, sire," answered Merlin, though he had a pretty good inkling. But his motto had never been that honesty was the best policy. He generally shared information on a need to know basis.

Uther grunted, then gestured with an imperious finger toward his wine goblet, indicating that he wanted it filled.

Merlin stepped forward, pitcher at the ready, when he noticed a ring on Uther's finger that he'd never seen before. It was a bit garish and feminine for Uther's taste, he would have thought, as it bore the insignia of a dragonfly. An immediate suspicion began to form in Merlin's mind. He'd been through this enough times now not to be dismissive of new pieces of jewelry suddenly being worn by Uther or his son.

He couldn't say anything to the King outright, of course, but as soon as the midday meal was done Merlin made his way back to his quarters, hoping to catch Gaius before he left on his afternoon rounds.

Gaius was just closing his medicine bag when Merlin stepped into the room and closed the door behind him.

"Merlin, what is it?" the older man asked, correctly reading Merlin's expression.

Merlin had already told Gaius about the proclamation regarding unmarried women. Gaius had been as disbelieving as the rest of them, and while he hadn't exactly approved of the fake marriage plan for Gwen, he'd agreed that they had few viable options." Uther's wearing a new ring. It has a dragonfly on it. Have you seen it before?"

Gaius's brow creased. "A dragonfly?" he said in surprise. "No, I can't say that I have. But that doesn't necessarily mean--"

"I know," said Merlin, getting closer to Gaius so that he could lower his voice and still be heard. "But doesn't it seem strange that he would make such an outlandish proclamation and at the same time start wearing a piece of jewelry no one's ever seen before? If that ring is enchanted -- and it's what's causing Uther to be even more irrational than usual --"

"Then we have a chance to reverse what's going on," Gaius finished slowly. "I agree you should look into it. You should probably ask Arthur if he recognizes the ring."

Merlin nodded. He was certain he was right. He was getting that feeling of glee he got whenever he managed to suss out the truth of a situation.

"But Merlin, who would do such a thing? Who do you think is responsible?" Gaius asked, looking concerned.

"Oh, that part's easy," said Merlin grimly.

Morgana.

~*~

Arthur pressed his face deeply into the crook of Gwen's neck. Her body was still heaving, their partially clothed bodies pressed tightly together. This was where he always wished to be. He was a complete arse for the things he'd said, for the savage way he'd taken her -- against a wall for God's sake -- but he could not find the energy to fully regret it. Not when her breath was hot in his ear; not when he could still count the beats of her heart where it thumped against her breast and his. The air was intense with what they'd so recently shared together, and Arthur sought to lighten the mood. He would have to leave her soon and he wanted to do so on good terms.

"Well," he murmured softly, "this wasn't exactly as I've always envisioned your wedding night, but I suppose it'll have to do."

The last thing he expected his comment to prompt was the total stiffening of her body, immediately followed by her shockingly strong hands pushing him bodily away. The look of horror on her beautiful face completed the unexpected package.

"You must go at once," Guinevere said, quickly righting her clothing with shaking hands.

Arthur moved much slower, doing up the laces on his breeches, the skewed ties on his shirt. "I realize we cannot be seen together, Guinevere."

"It's not that," she said, fluttering her fingers ineffectually over her dress; it was a wrinkled mess, her hair much worse. Anyone who saw her would have absolutely no trouble guessing exactly what she'd been up to.

A knot began growing in Arthur's gut. "Just what exactly is it, then?"

"Do you not see how incredibly inappropriate it would be for Lancelot to find us like this?" She indicated the space between them.

"You're worried about Lancelot," he said in a slow, measured tone. It almost felt like he was going mad, except if he were, he suspected it wouldn't hurt quite this much.

"Of course I am," she exclaimed. "You should be as well! He's... he's sacrificing so much for us, Arthur."

Her expression was torn and Arthur felt her indecision twist into him like a knife. "Then I should go," he said shortly.

Guinevere's expression flickered, and he almost thought she was going to say something, when the unmistakable sound of footsteps grew closer to the front door. Of course, Lancelot would be returning home to claim his apparently adoring bride. Arthur hid behind the curtain, listened as Gwen made some sort of excuse as to why she needed Lancelot to walk with her around back.

It was easy to leave undetected. It was the only thing about this entire situation that was.

Read part 2.