Song 7: link
I wouldn't die without love,
But I'd desert my house and land.
I would be, for a while,
Something simple like grass,
And later on be woods.
“Gwen!” an urgent voice whispers in the dark dank of the dungeons. “Gwen, wake up!”
Guinevere turns over and sits up on the filthy straw mat. Her eyes tampil no signs of sleep, only weeping. They are swollen and rimmed with red. “Merlin?” she blinks. She has spent the evening crying and crying and has run out of tears an jam ago.
Merlin swings the cell door open. “Come on,” he holds out his hand to her.
She doesn’t move; she stares. “How…?”
“No time to explain. Come on Gwen, he’s waiting for us!”
“Arthur?” she stands, a tiny thread of hope daring to renda its way through her broken heart.
“Who else? Let’s go,” he urges, grabbing her hand and pulling her from the cell.
She follows him quickly through the dungeons. He moves quickly, but not furtively. He is purposeful. What is going on? I’m to be executed in the morning, and we’re walking out the front door like nothing is happening. They reach the guard station, and she gasps at the sight of the guards, prone on the ground.
“What happened? Are they…”
“Sleeping comfortably. And very, very deeply,” Merlin says, his face set, as he pulls her along up the stairs. They pass lebih guards and some servants. They are all in the same sort of drugged sleep.
“Have they been drugged?”
“Something like that,” Merlin says vaguely. The eerie silence as they walk through the corridors of the kastil, castle is unsettling. She continues to follow her friend, the hurried pace set oleh his much longer legs making her have to almost jog along beside him.
“Merlin—” she starts.
“Sorry, we need to be quick. I’m not sure how long we have,” he says, grabbing her hand before pushing the doors to the courtyard open.
They hurry across the stones, passing lebih sleeping guards. Even the kuda are sleeping. anjing and cats. Mice. Night birds. Every person, every thing that can sleep is doing so.
Gwen is beginning to feel uneasy. Merlin isn’t telling me something.
Near the gates to town, they see the silhouette of a cloaked figure standing with three horses. Merlin sends a low whistle, and the figure lifts his head and runs down to meet them.
Gwen’s jantung stops beating as she is enfolded in his embrace and lifted off her feet. She throws her arms around his neck, squeezing fiercely, tears once again flowing from her eyes. The tears of sadness have run dry; tears of joy still exist in abundance from lack of use.
“Guinevere,” his rough voice rumbles in her ear as he tucks his face into her neck, breathing her in.
He pulls back, sets her on her feet, and bends down, ciuman her passionately, a ciuman of ultimate relief, a ciuman of longing, a ciuman with a promise within.
Merlin clears his throat. Arthur turns and glares. “We need to go. Now,” Merlin reminds them.
Arthur strokes Gwen’s cheek, noting her swollen eyes, feeling the fresh tears under his palm. “We’re leaving Camelot,” he tells her softly, taking her hand as they hurry to where he’s secured the horses.
“I… I gathered as much. But, Arthur…” she says.
“I know. Camelot needs me. And it will have me. Later. When I am able to govern it oleh my rules, not the rules made oleh my father and other narrow-minded classist idiots.”
She bites her lip, troubled. “I can’t let anda leave because of me.”
“Do anda really think anda have a choice?” he turns and asks, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he apologizes immediately when he sees her face. He pecks her lips and continues. “It’s either leave for a while and return when I can claim the takhta as its rightful king with my beautiful queen at my side, atau stay here and watch anda get executed in the morning. And I cannot watch that happen.”
The pain in his eyes breaks her heart, and another tear slips from the corner of her eye.
“Merlin talked me out of my original plan, which was to threaten my own life if my father planned on going through with your execution,” Arthur says quietly as he assists Gwen up onto her horse.
“That’s a bit extreme,” Gwen says, shocked.
“Guinevere. Know this: I do not want to – no, I know that I cannot live, cannot survive in a world without anda in it. The king anda see in me does not exist without you.”
More tears escape from Gwen’s eyes as she looks down at her prince, the force of his cinta for her scaring her a little bit. But do I feel any less intensely? she asks herself, closing her eyes. No.
He kisses her hand and squeezes it before swinging up onto his own horse and spurring it into motion.
“Where are we going?” Gwen asks after a time. They have slowed a little now that they are well out of the city, but they are still within the borders the kingdom.
“South,” is all that Arthur will say.
“How far south?” Gwen asks, curious.
“As far south as we can go.”
“I’ve always wanted to see the sea,” she says quietly. Arthur hears her and smiles over at her.
“I think you’ll get your wish, my love.”
She smiles back at him. It is the first smile that has graced her lips since they were discovered at the picnic yesterday, and it is a weak smile, almost as if she has forgotten how.
“We need to reach the borders of the kingdom oleh daylight, Arthur,” Merlin reminds him, impatient with the slow pace.
“Merlin, relax,” Arthur says, but knows that Merlin has just as much to fear as he and Gwen do, perhaps more.
“Arthur, anda cannot kill yourself.”
“Yes, I can, and I will, Merlin.”
“Arthur, what if I can help Gwen to escape? And anda as well?”
“Ha,” Arthur laughed a humorless laugh. “You? anda couldn’t escape from a cloth bag; you’re going to break Guinevere out of her cell and get me past the six heavily armed and well-trained guards outside my door?”
“Yes.” Merlin’s face was deadly serious.
“And how, pray tell, are anda going to do that?”
Merlin snapped his fingers and all the candles in Arthur’s room went out at once. He snapped them again and they all re-lit.
Arthur stared, aghast. “So you’re a wizard,” he says impotently. Why am I not furious?
Merlin nodded, grateful that Arthur was not bothering to waste time yelling at him. “Let me help you, Arthur. The plan anda told Morgana: let’s do it. We’ll leave, and come back when it is your time to be king. I’ll have to wipe Morgana’s memory of that conversation, of course…”
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Merlin. I trust her,” Arthur argued.
“I don’t.”
“Tell Guinevere, Merlin,” Arthur quietly recommends. “She needs to know, too. I won’t have any secrets. Not anymore.”
“Tell me what?”
“You remember everyone sleeping?” Merlin asks Gwen
Gwen nods.
“I did that.”
“Sleeping draught?” she asks, knowing that it cannot be, remembering the all-encompassing effects of… whatever it was.
Merlin shakes his head. “You know that’s not it, Gwen.”
“I know,” she admits softly.
“Gwen, please understand why I had to keep it a secret. Even from you. Especially from you.”
“I do understand. anda would have been endangering my life as well as your own.”
Arthur listens to the exchange with interest. He didn’t exactly tell her; yet she knows. Is she smarter than me? atau does she just understand Merlin? He sighs. Probably both.
“I never used it unless I had to. And never for evil purposes. But there is so much lebih I wish I could have done had I been allowed to use my gifts freely…” he trails off.
“I know,” she jawaban quietly. He’s talking about my father. She straightens up, and fixes him with a smirk. “So you’re not just helping us run, then, are you? You’re running as well, now.”
He grins. “It appears so.”
“Gaius knows?” she asks suddenly.
Merlin nods. Arthur glances over at him, frowning. Well, nothing for it, now. Of course Gaius would protect him.
They finally stop at midday, once they are well outside Camelot, in a small village. They are exhausted, sore, and hungry. Gwen notices for the first time that Arthur is dressed simply, bearing no marks identifying him as a Pendragon atau tying them to Camelot in any way.
“No one will know me here; we are far enough away,” Arthur says, dismounting near an inn. “It’s early, but we are all tired. Let’s stop and get a room,” he glances at Merlin. “Or two.”
Merlin hides his smirk.
He acquires two rooms for them easily, and sees that their kuda are properly tended. Gwen is impressed at his total lack of imperious attitude, speaking to the innkeeper like he is a man and not just a peasant, even joking lightly with him.
They pause outside the two rooms. Gwen knows what she wants, but she also knows it is highly improper.
Her un-asked pertanyaan is answered for her when Arthur opens one door, Merlin opens another, and they each go into a room. She bites her lip, takes a deep breath, and follows Arthur into the room.
“Arthur, this isn’t proper,” she protests weakly.
“It is if you’re my wife,” he says quietly.
“What?” she asks, though she heard him clear as day.
“Marry me, Guinevere,” he says. Asking; sort of.
She gasps.
“Please?” he adds, taking her hands. She looks into his eyes and sees his uncertainty, his anticipation, his fear.
“Yes,” she whispers, biting her lip again.
He swoops in and kisses her swiftly, hungrily, gratefully. “Today?” he breaks away, resting his forehead against hers.
“What?” she repeats, and he laughs.
“She berkata yes, then?” Merlin asks, and they jump, turning to see him leaning casually in the doorway.
“Yes,” Arthur says, grinning like a boy. “Merlin, can you…?”
“On my way,” he turns to leave, knowing what Arthur is asking.
The wedding is simple; a Druid priest performs the ceremony.
“We can trust him, Arthur,” Merlin reassured him when the former prince balked at the concept. “Arthur, the Druids know me. The real me. And they’ve kept my secret. They’ll keep yours. If your father sends a cari party, they won’t even be found. And your marriage will still be completely binding,” he added, answering Arthur’s other concern.
They are deep within a forest, led to a clearing oleh Merlin. The ceremony is simple, Merlin the only witness.
Arthur came prepared with a ring. The priest, Odras, blessed the ring, blessed them both, and blessed their union. Then he blessed Merlin, charging him with the protection of the couple.
“Now, as a symbol of sealing your union as man and wife, anda must segel this ceremony with a ciuman affirming your cinta for each other,” Odras completes the ceremony.
Arthur pulls Guinevere close. She looks radiant in a simple gaun borrowed from the innkeeper’s wife and bunga in her hair, standing in the soft afternoon sunlight. “I cinta you,” he whispers just before his lips touch hers, softly at first, gradually increasing in intensity as Gwen leans up into him, her hand forgetting its manners and straying into his hair.
They part and gaze into each other’s eyes. They remember to breathe again. They remember where they are again. “I cinta you, Arthur,” Gwen whispers back to him, stroking his cheek with her fingertips. Merlin and Odras smile over the couple.
“Their cinta will bring great things on this land, Emrys,” Odras says simply. Merlin nods in agreement.
“Emrys?” Arthur turns and asks.
“My Druid name. It’s what they call me,” he jawaban simply.
“Arthur, Guinevere,” Odras addresses them. “The Druid people will watch over you. We always have our eyes on Camelot as well. We will alert Emrys when the time is right for anda to return.”
“Thank you, Odras,” Gwen says, twining her fingers with Arthur’s.
“Continue on your journey south. anda will be safe. Arthur, introduce yourself as Aldwin to all whom anda meet. Guinevere, anda shall be called Goldevia. Merlin, your name is now Marden.”
Arthur’s brow furrows. “Surely that won’t be necessary.”
“Do not underestimate the length of the arms of gossip, my lord. Your name is already known far and wide, and news of your flight will not take long to spread.”
“Thank anda again, Odras,” Guinevere says, touching his arm lightly.
“Yes, thank you. And please know that under my rule, the Druid people will be free to live as they please, treated with respect and no longer persecuted. I promise anda this,” Arthur says.
“I know what anda say is true, Aldwin,” Odras says, addressing Arthur oleh his new name. Arthur smiles weakly. He doesn’t like the name, Gwen and Merlin both think, sharing a secret smile between them.
They turn to leave, and Odras’ voice halts them.
“Beware of the Lady Morgana, however. She is not what she seems and she may not be willing to give up the takhta to anda upon your return.”
Merlin looks back and nods, quickly ushering his friends back towards the inn.
They dine alone, in a small room shown to them oleh the innkeeper’s wife, overcome oleh the romance of their seemingly sudden marriage. The innkeeper indulges his wife, but cannot help wondering what they are running from atau if the blonde stranger has gotten the tiny brown beauty in a family way. His wife shushes him, dismissing his concerns, calling them “poppycock” just before she heads in to check on the trio.
“Can I get anda anything else, dears?” she asks, after knocking softly.
“Perhaps a top-up of my ale, if anda please,” Arthur asks, holding his mug aloft. “G- Goldevia, do anda need anything, Love?” he asks, smirking at her, using her new pseudonym for the first time.
“No thank you, ma’am, I’m simply stuffed,” she says, smiling at the older woman. She notices that the girl’s plate is only half-eaten.
“Are anda sure, Lamb? You’ve got a lot left there,” the innkeeper’s wife asks, a mother’s concern tampilkan in her voice. She studies Guinevere, cursing her husband and his ridiculous ideas. She looks healthy, but not glowing. Neither ill nor ravenous. Full breasts, but not too much so. This girl is not with child, she thinks, but she knows she’ll be keeping a keen ear out in the morning for anything sounding remotely like someone being sick. She curses her husband again.
Gwen smiles kindly at her. “I’ve always been a light eater, sorry. It was excellent, thank you.”
“I’ll finish it,” Merlin says, reaching for her plate. Arthur rolls his eyes at him, but the innkeeper’s wife only smiles.
“I’d say anda could do with a detik atau even a third helping, my dear,” she smiles at Merlin, who holds his mug aloft to her in a silent toast, his mouth full. He takes a drink, and she rushes to refill him.
“Um, I do have some honey cakes, made fresh this afternoon…” she offers. “It is traditional to have a bite of cake after a wedding, anda know.”
“Thank you, that would be lovely,” Arthur says, smiling at Gwen.
The older woman scurries out, bustling back to get the cakes for them. Cakes she made especially for them, actually.
The innkeeper frowns over at his wife as she speeds through with the cakes. She sticks her tongue out at him and delivers the cakes to the young couple and their friend.
“Beginning to feel like an intruder here,” Merlin mutters, standing. The conversation has been dwindling steadily over the last jam due to Gwen and Arthur becoming lebih and lebih absorbed in one another.
“Sorry, Merlin,” Gwen blushes, standing also. “It… it has been a long day, hasn’t it?”
Arthur stands, knocking his bangku over in his haste. Gwen hides her giggle behind her hand while Merlin laughs openly. Arthur swings his arm around Merlin’s shoulders, squeezing him into a headlock and half dragging him from the room. Merlin just laughs and quickly worms himself free, giving Arthur a friendly shove on the shoulder.
Arthur turns suddenly out of habit, ready to dispense punishment, but Gwen’s hand on his arm reminds him that he isn’t the prince any more. He is Aldwin the potential farmer. Merlin – Marden – is his equal now.
And besides, if Merlin wanted to, he could blast Arthur through the dinding into the selanjutnya room.
They reach their rooms and suddenly awkwardness takes over.
“Goodnight… anda two,” Merlin says, trying to keep the innuendo out of his voice and not quite achieving that goal.
Gwen blushes, but steps over to him and hugs him tightly. “Thank you, Merlin. I’d be dead oleh now were it not for you,” she says, leaning up to ciuman his cheek.
“Merlin,” Arthur says, regarding his best friend (May as well admit it, man.) and former servant.
“Arthur.”
“Thanks,” he says, slapping him companionably on the shoulder. Then, surprising them both, he grabs him and hugs him. “You are a true friend,” he says, then releases him. “Even if anda are a wizard.”
Merlin turns and heads to his room. Arthur bends and lifts his bride into his arms. Gwen laughs, turns the knob to the door, and Arthur kicks it open.
“Mind her head in the doorway,” Merlin calls, before shutting his door.
Gwen laughs again, resting her head on Arthur’s shoulder as he goes through the narrow doorway, turning sideway slightly to avoid bumping any part of her.
He kicks the door closed behind them.
“Dinner!” Guinevere calls from the doorway of the modest house the three of them share.
Arthur and Merlin lift their heads, grateful to be able to come in out of the sun. The cool breeze drifting from the sea helps cool their skin, but the sun is relentless. Arthur’s skin has turned golden from the exposure and his hair is a shade lighter. Merlin has put on a few pounds of muscle and has a perpetual sunburn.
They’ve passed themselves off as a young married couple, which is true, and Merlin is introduced as Goldevia’s cousin Marden, to avoid scandalous gossip about a woman living with two men.
Arthur splashes in the water barrel, cooling himself and removing the outermost layer of sweat and grime from his chest and face before grabbing his kemeja from where it is carelessly hanging on a fence post.
Merlin follows suit, cleaning only his face and neck. He learned the hard way that he needs to leave his kemeja on when working outside.
“Honestly Mer- Marden, you’d think you’d be able to magic yourself some sort of way to not get burned every day,” Arthur says, flicking his kemeja at him.
“We’ve managed to stay inconspicuous for nearly two moons now, Aldwin, and I’m not going to risk our solitude and peace oleh poking skunks.”
“Poking skunks?” Arthur looks sideways at him. “Just when I think you’ve berkata your last weird thing…”
He enters the house and immediately crosses to Gwen, dishing up food from the stove, and kisses her cheek, his arm wrapping around her waist for a squeeze.
“You stink,” she says.
“And I cinta you, too,” he chuckles, ciuman her neck before going to sit at the table.
“Mmm, who was the unlucky victim tonight?” Merlin asks, leaning meneruskan, ke depan to smell the delicious chicken placed in front of him.
Gwen turns around and sighs. “I do wish anda hadn’t named the chickens, Merlin. It makes it just that much lebih gruesome when I have to butcher one.”
Arthur and Gwen laugh. “We didn’t give them nice names,” he protests.
“I know. This one was Cenred, I think,” she sighs, sitting.
“Excellent,” Arthur says, rubbing his hands together.
Once a warrior, always a warrior, Gwen thinks, chuckling a bit now herself.
After makan malam Arthur and Gwen walk to the nearby cliffs overlooking the sea while Merlin cleans up. He always offers, shooing them out the door, giving them time together and giving him time alone, which they all need. He sits and relaxes while the dishes clean themselves and put themselves away.
“Do anda regret leaving?” Gwen asks, her arms wrapped around her husband’s waist as they stand, watching the waves crash on the rocks, the ocean air blowing her curls from her shoulders.
“No. Sometimes. Maybe. I don’t know if ‘regret’ is exactly the word for it,” he answers, his hand stroking small circles on her back. “My only regret is that my father couldn’t allow us to be together like this in Camelot.”
“Couldn’t atau wouldn’t?” she asks. “There is a big difference.”
Arthur ponders this. “Wouldn’t,” he allows with a sigh. “He’s the king. He could have changed the rules. But he wouldn’t. So I will.”
Gwen nods, resting her head on his chest. They listen to the roar of the sea, the cries of sea-birds as they dive and swoop.
Arthur winds a lock of her hair around his hand, feeling the strands in his fingers. He dips his head and smells her hair.
Gwen smiles, remembering the first time he did that. Our wedding night. In that inn.
She giggles a little, and he looks at her.
“Something funny?”
“I was just thinking about the first time I caught anda smelling my hair like that.”
“Ah. The inn.”
“You were so sweet. I hadn’t realized that anda were…”
“Nervous?” he supplies.
“Inexperienced,” she grins at him, and he blushes. “Not that it mattered, of course. I was merely surprised.”
He shrugs. “I only ever wanted you. And before that, I honestly never had any time for… dalliances.”
“We seemed to do pretty well for a couple of first-timers,” she jokes as he turns her, pulling her into both his arms so she is facing him, pressing her small body against his.
“Yes, indeed,” he bends his head and kisses her. “And we keep getting better at it, too,” he says, grinning against her lips, nibbling, remembering his eager hands and hips, her conflict over wanting him but not wanting to appear improper, him coaxing the impropriety out of her, wanting her to enjoy herself as much as he was.
The thoughts and memories spin inside his head as he slips his tongue in between Gwen’s lips, bringing forth a faint whimper from the back of her throat that Arthur has learned to cinta hearing and, in fact, strives to bring forth as much as possible.
A twig snaps behind them, and they are snapped out of their world, pulling apart, grinning and looking sheepish.
“Evening, Aldwen, Goldie,” the local butcher, out for his evening walk, nods at them as he passes, a knowing smile crossing his weathered face.
“Evening, Bartley,” Arthur says as Gwen returns to his side. She smiles at the man as he passes them to continue along the path that follows the cliff.
“There’s going to be gossip tomorrow,” Gwen giggles as they walk back to the house.
Song 9: link
I wouldn't die without love,
But I'd desert my house and land.
I would be, for a while,
Something simple like grass,
And later on be woods.
“Gwen!” an urgent voice whispers in the dark dank of the dungeons. “Gwen, wake up!”
Guinevere turns over and sits up on the filthy straw mat. Her eyes tampil no signs of sleep, only weeping. They are swollen and rimmed with red. “Merlin?” she blinks. She has spent the evening crying and crying and has run out of tears an jam ago.
Merlin swings the cell door open. “Come on,” he holds out his hand to her.
She doesn’t move; she stares. “How…?”
“No time to explain. Come on Gwen, he’s waiting for us!”
“Arthur?” she stands, a tiny thread of hope daring to renda its way through her broken heart.
“Who else? Let’s go,” he urges, grabbing her hand and pulling her from the cell.
She follows him quickly through the dungeons. He moves quickly, but not furtively. He is purposeful. What is going on? I’m to be executed in the morning, and we’re walking out the front door like nothing is happening. They reach the guard station, and she gasps at the sight of the guards, prone on the ground.
“What happened? Are they…”
“Sleeping comfortably. And very, very deeply,” Merlin says, his face set, as he pulls her along up the stairs. They pass lebih guards and some servants. They are all in the same sort of drugged sleep.
“Have they been drugged?”
“Something like that,” Merlin says vaguely. The eerie silence as they walk through the corridors of the kastil, castle is unsettling. She continues to follow her friend, the hurried pace set oleh his much longer legs making her have to almost jog along beside him.
“Merlin—” she starts.
“Sorry, we need to be quick. I’m not sure how long we have,” he says, grabbing her hand before pushing the doors to the courtyard open.
They hurry across the stones, passing lebih sleeping guards. Even the kuda are sleeping. anjing and cats. Mice. Night birds. Every person, every thing that can sleep is doing so.
Gwen is beginning to feel uneasy. Merlin isn’t telling me something.
Near the gates to town, they see the silhouette of a cloaked figure standing with three horses. Merlin sends a low whistle, and the figure lifts his head and runs down to meet them.
Gwen’s jantung stops beating as she is enfolded in his embrace and lifted off her feet. She throws her arms around his neck, squeezing fiercely, tears once again flowing from her eyes. The tears of sadness have run dry; tears of joy still exist in abundance from lack of use.
“Guinevere,” his rough voice rumbles in her ear as he tucks his face into her neck, breathing her in.
He pulls back, sets her on her feet, and bends down, ciuman her passionately, a ciuman of ultimate relief, a ciuman of longing, a ciuman with a promise within.
Merlin clears his throat. Arthur turns and glares. “We need to go. Now,” Merlin reminds them.
Arthur strokes Gwen’s cheek, noting her swollen eyes, feeling the fresh tears under his palm. “We’re leaving Camelot,” he tells her softly, taking her hand as they hurry to where he’s secured the horses.
“I… I gathered as much. But, Arthur…” she says.
“I know. Camelot needs me. And it will have me. Later. When I am able to govern it oleh my rules, not the rules made oleh my father and other narrow-minded classist idiots.”
She bites her lip, troubled. “I can’t let anda leave because of me.”
“Do anda really think anda have a choice?” he turns and asks, his voice coming out harsher than he intended. “Sorry. I’m sorry,” he apologizes immediately when he sees her face. He pecks her lips and continues. “It’s either leave for a while and return when I can claim the takhta as its rightful king with my beautiful queen at my side, atau stay here and watch anda get executed in the morning. And I cannot watch that happen.”
The pain in his eyes breaks her heart, and another tear slips from the corner of her eye.
“Merlin talked me out of my original plan, which was to threaten my own life if my father planned on going through with your execution,” Arthur says quietly as he assists Gwen up onto her horse.
“That’s a bit extreme,” Gwen says, shocked.
“Guinevere. Know this: I do not want to – no, I know that I cannot live, cannot survive in a world without anda in it. The king anda see in me does not exist without you.”
More tears escape from Gwen’s eyes as she looks down at her prince, the force of his cinta for her scaring her a little bit. But do I feel any less intensely? she asks herself, closing her eyes. No.
He kisses her hand and squeezes it before swinging up onto his own horse and spurring it into motion.
“Where are we going?” Gwen asks after a time. They have slowed a little now that they are well out of the city, but they are still within the borders the kingdom.
“South,” is all that Arthur will say.
“How far south?” Gwen asks, curious.
“As far south as we can go.”
“I’ve always wanted to see the sea,” she says quietly. Arthur hears her and smiles over at her.
“I think you’ll get your wish, my love.”
She smiles back at him. It is the first smile that has graced her lips since they were discovered at the picnic yesterday, and it is a weak smile, almost as if she has forgotten how.
“We need to reach the borders of the kingdom oleh daylight, Arthur,” Merlin reminds him, impatient with the slow pace.
“Merlin, relax,” Arthur says, but knows that Merlin has just as much to fear as he and Gwen do, perhaps more.
“Arthur, anda cannot kill yourself.”
“Yes, I can, and I will, Merlin.”
“Arthur, what if I can help Gwen to escape? And anda as well?”
“Ha,” Arthur laughed a humorless laugh. “You? anda couldn’t escape from a cloth bag; you’re going to break Guinevere out of her cell and get me past the six heavily armed and well-trained guards outside my door?”
“Yes.” Merlin’s face was deadly serious.
“And how, pray tell, are anda going to do that?”
Merlin snapped his fingers and all the candles in Arthur’s room went out at once. He snapped them again and they all re-lit.
Arthur stared, aghast. “So you’re a wizard,” he says impotently. Why am I not furious?
Merlin nodded, grateful that Arthur was not bothering to waste time yelling at him. “Let me help you, Arthur. The plan anda told Morgana: let’s do it. We’ll leave, and come back when it is your time to be king. I’ll have to wipe Morgana’s memory of that conversation, of course…”
“I don’t think that’s necessary, Merlin. I trust her,” Arthur argued.
“I don’t.”
“Tell Guinevere, Merlin,” Arthur quietly recommends. “She needs to know, too. I won’t have any secrets. Not anymore.”
“Tell me what?”
“You remember everyone sleeping?” Merlin asks Gwen
Gwen nods.
“I did that.”
“Sleeping draught?” she asks, knowing that it cannot be, remembering the all-encompassing effects of… whatever it was.
Merlin shakes his head. “You know that’s not it, Gwen.”
“I know,” she admits softly.
“Gwen, please understand why I had to keep it a secret. Even from you. Especially from you.”
“I do understand. anda would have been endangering my life as well as your own.”
Arthur listens to the exchange with interest. He didn’t exactly tell her; yet she knows. Is she smarter than me? atau does she just understand Merlin? He sighs. Probably both.
“I never used it unless I had to. And never for evil purposes. But there is so much lebih I wish I could have done had I been allowed to use my gifts freely…” he trails off.
“I know,” she jawaban quietly. He’s talking about my father. She straightens up, and fixes him with a smirk. “So you’re not just helping us run, then, are you? You’re running as well, now.”
He grins. “It appears so.”
“Gaius knows?” she asks suddenly.
Merlin nods. Arthur glances over at him, frowning. Well, nothing for it, now. Of course Gaius would protect him.
They finally stop at midday, once they are well outside Camelot, in a small village. They are exhausted, sore, and hungry. Gwen notices for the first time that Arthur is dressed simply, bearing no marks identifying him as a Pendragon atau tying them to Camelot in any way.
“No one will know me here; we are far enough away,” Arthur says, dismounting near an inn. “It’s early, but we are all tired. Let’s stop and get a room,” he glances at Merlin. “Or two.”
Merlin hides his smirk.
He acquires two rooms for them easily, and sees that their kuda are properly tended. Gwen is impressed at his total lack of imperious attitude, speaking to the innkeeper like he is a man and not just a peasant, even joking lightly with him.
They pause outside the two rooms. Gwen knows what she wants, but she also knows it is highly improper.
Her un-asked pertanyaan is answered for her when Arthur opens one door, Merlin opens another, and they each go into a room. She bites her lip, takes a deep breath, and follows Arthur into the room.
“Arthur, this isn’t proper,” she protests weakly.
“It is if you’re my wife,” he says quietly.
“What?” she asks, though she heard him clear as day.
“Marry me, Guinevere,” he says. Asking; sort of.
She gasps.
“Please?” he adds, taking her hands. She looks into his eyes and sees his uncertainty, his anticipation, his fear.
“Yes,” she whispers, biting her lip again.
He swoops in and kisses her swiftly, hungrily, gratefully. “Today?” he breaks away, resting his forehead against hers.
“What?” she repeats, and he laughs.
“She berkata yes, then?” Merlin asks, and they jump, turning to see him leaning casually in the doorway.
“Yes,” Arthur says, grinning like a boy. “Merlin, can you…?”
“On my way,” he turns to leave, knowing what Arthur is asking.
The wedding is simple; a Druid priest performs the ceremony.
“We can trust him, Arthur,” Merlin reassured him when the former prince balked at the concept. “Arthur, the Druids know me. The real me. And they’ve kept my secret. They’ll keep yours. If your father sends a cari party, they won’t even be found. And your marriage will still be completely binding,” he added, answering Arthur’s other concern.
They are deep within a forest, led to a clearing oleh Merlin. The ceremony is simple, Merlin the only witness.
Arthur came prepared with a ring. The priest, Odras, blessed the ring, blessed them both, and blessed their union. Then he blessed Merlin, charging him with the protection of the couple.
“Now, as a symbol of sealing your union as man and wife, anda must segel this ceremony with a ciuman affirming your cinta for each other,” Odras completes the ceremony.
Arthur pulls Guinevere close. She looks radiant in a simple gaun borrowed from the innkeeper’s wife and bunga in her hair, standing in the soft afternoon sunlight. “I cinta you,” he whispers just before his lips touch hers, softly at first, gradually increasing in intensity as Gwen leans up into him, her hand forgetting its manners and straying into his hair.
They part and gaze into each other’s eyes. They remember to breathe again. They remember where they are again. “I cinta you, Arthur,” Gwen whispers back to him, stroking his cheek with her fingertips. Merlin and Odras smile over the couple.
“Their cinta will bring great things on this land, Emrys,” Odras says simply. Merlin nods in agreement.
“Emrys?” Arthur turns and asks.
“My Druid name. It’s what they call me,” he jawaban simply.
“Arthur, Guinevere,” Odras addresses them. “The Druid people will watch over you. We always have our eyes on Camelot as well. We will alert Emrys when the time is right for anda to return.”
“Thank you, Odras,” Gwen says, twining her fingers with Arthur’s.
“Continue on your journey south. anda will be safe. Arthur, introduce yourself as Aldwin to all whom anda meet. Guinevere, anda shall be called Goldevia. Merlin, your name is now Marden.”
Arthur’s brow furrows. “Surely that won’t be necessary.”
“Do not underestimate the length of the arms of gossip, my lord. Your name is already known far and wide, and news of your flight will not take long to spread.”
“Thank anda again, Odras,” Guinevere says, touching his arm lightly.
“Yes, thank you. And please know that under my rule, the Druid people will be free to live as they please, treated with respect and no longer persecuted. I promise anda this,” Arthur says.
“I know what anda say is true, Aldwin,” Odras says, addressing Arthur oleh his new name. Arthur smiles weakly. He doesn’t like the name, Gwen and Merlin both think, sharing a secret smile between them.
They turn to leave, and Odras’ voice halts them.
“Beware of the Lady Morgana, however. She is not what she seems and she may not be willing to give up the takhta to anda upon your return.”
Merlin looks back and nods, quickly ushering his friends back towards the inn.
They dine alone, in a small room shown to them oleh the innkeeper’s wife, overcome oleh the romance of their seemingly sudden marriage. The innkeeper indulges his wife, but cannot help wondering what they are running from atau if the blonde stranger has gotten the tiny brown beauty in a family way. His wife shushes him, dismissing his concerns, calling them “poppycock” just before she heads in to check on the trio.
“Can I get anda anything else, dears?” she asks, after knocking softly.
“Perhaps a top-up of my ale, if anda please,” Arthur asks, holding his mug aloft. “G- Goldevia, do anda need anything, Love?” he asks, smirking at her, using her new pseudonym for the first time.
“No thank you, ma’am, I’m simply stuffed,” she says, smiling at the older woman. She notices that the girl’s plate is only half-eaten.
“Are anda sure, Lamb? You’ve got a lot left there,” the innkeeper’s wife asks, a mother’s concern tampilkan in her voice. She studies Guinevere, cursing her husband and his ridiculous ideas. She looks healthy, but not glowing. Neither ill nor ravenous. Full breasts, but not too much so. This girl is not with child, she thinks, but she knows she’ll be keeping a keen ear out in the morning for anything sounding remotely like someone being sick. She curses her husband again.
Gwen smiles kindly at her. “I’ve always been a light eater, sorry. It was excellent, thank you.”
“I’ll finish it,” Merlin says, reaching for her plate. Arthur rolls his eyes at him, but the innkeeper’s wife only smiles.
“I’d say anda could do with a detik atau even a third helping, my dear,” she smiles at Merlin, who holds his mug aloft to her in a silent toast, his mouth full. He takes a drink, and she rushes to refill him.
“Um, I do have some honey cakes, made fresh this afternoon…” she offers. “It is traditional to have a bite of cake after a wedding, anda know.”
“Thank you, that would be lovely,” Arthur says, smiling at Gwen.
The older woman scurries out, bustling back to get the cakes for them. Cakes she made especially for them, actually.
The innkeeper frowns over at his wife as she speeds through with the cakes. She sticks her tongue out at him and delivers the cakes to the young couple and their friend.
“Beginning to feel like an intruder here,” Merlin mutters, standing. The conversation has been dwindling steadily over the last jam due to Gwen and Arthur becoming lebih and lebih absorbed in one another.
“Sorry, Merlin,” Gwen blushes, standing also. “It… it has been a long day, hasn’t it?”
Arthur stands, knocking his bangku over in his haste. Gwen hides her giggle behind her hand while Merlin laughs openly. Arthur swings his arm around Merlin’s shoulders, squeezing him into a headlock and half dragging him from the room. Merlin just laughs and quickly worms himself free, giving Arthur a friendly shove on the shoulder.
Arthur turns suddenly out of habit, ready to dispense punishment, but Gwen’s hand on his arm reminds him that he isn’t the prince any more. He is Aldwin the potential farmer. Merlin – Marden – is his equal now.
And besides, if Merlin wanted to, he could blast Arthur through the dinding into the selanjutnya room.
They reach their rooms and suddenly awkwardness takes over.
“Goodnight… anda two,” Merlin says, trying to keep the innuendo out of his voice and not quite achieving that goal.
Gwen blushes, but steps over to him and hugs him tightly. “Thank you, Merlin. I’d be dead oleh now were it not for you,” she says, leaning up to ciuman his cheek.
“Merlin,” Arthur says, regarding his best friend (May as well admit it, man.) and former servant.
“Arthur.”
“Thanks,” he says, slapping him companionably on the shoulder. Then, surprising them both, he grabs him and hugs him. “You are a true friend,” he says, then releases him. “Even if anda are a wizard.”
Merlin turns and heads to his room. Arthur bends and lifts his bride into his arms. Gwen laughs, turns the knob to the door, and Arthur kicks it open.
“Mind her head in the doorway,” Merlin calls, before shutting his door.
Gwen laughs again, resting her head on Arthur’s shoulder as he goes through the narrow doorway, turning sideway slightly to avoid bumping any part of her.
He kicks the door closed behind them.
“Dinner!” Guinevere calls from the doorway of the modest house the three of them share.
Arthur and Merlin lift their heads, grateful to be able to come in out of the sun. The cool breeze drifting from the sea helps cool their skin, but the sun is relentless. Arthur’s skin has turned golden from the exposure and his hair is a shade lighter. Merlin has put on a few pounds of muscle and has a perpetual sunburn.
They’ve passed themselves off as a young married couple, which is true, and Merlin is introduced as Goldevia’s cousin Marden, to avoid scandalous gossip about a woman living with two men.
Arthur splashes in the water barrel, cooling himself and removing the outermost layer of sweat and grime from his chest and face before grabbing his kemeja from where it is carelessly hanging on a fence post.
Merlin follows suit, cleaning only his face and neck. He learned the hard way that he needs to leave his kemeja on when working outside.
“Honestly Mer- Marden, you’d think you’d be able to magic yourself some sort of way to not get burned every day,” Arthur says, flicking his kemeja at him.
“We’ve managed to stay inconspicuous for nearly two moons now, Aldwin, and I’m not going to risk our solitude and peace oleh poking skunks.”
“Poking skunks?” Arthur looks sideways at him. “Just when I think you’ve berkata your last weird thing…”
He enters the house and immediately crosses to Gwen, dishing up food from the stove, and kisses her cheek, his arm wrapping around her waist for a squeeze.
“You stink,” she says.
“And I cinta you, too,” he chuckles, ciuman her neck before going to sit at the table.
“Mmm, who was the unlucky victim tonight?” Merlin asks, leaning meneruskan, ke depan to smell the delicious chicken placed in front of him.
Gwen turns around and sighs. “I do wish anda hadn’t named the chickens, Merlin. It makes it just that much lebih gruesome when I have to butcher one.”
Arthur and Gwen laugh. “We didn’t give them nice names,” he protests.
“I know. This one was Cenred, I think,” she sighs, sitting.
“Excellent,” Arthur says, rubbing his hands together.
Once a warrior, always a warrior, Gwen thinks, chuckling a bit now herself.
After makan malam Arthur and Gwen walk to the nearby cliffs overlooking the sea while Merlin cleans up. He always offers, shooing them out the door, giving them time together and giving him time alone, which they all need. He sits and relaxes while the dishes clean themselves and put themselves away.
“Do anda regret leaving?” Gwen asks, her arms wrapped around her husband’s waist as they stand, watching the waves crash on the rocks, the ocean air blowing her curls from her shoulders.
“No. Sometimes. Maybe. I don’t know if ‘regret’ is exactly the word for it,” he answers, his hand stroking small circles on her back. “My only regret is that my father couldn’t allow us to be together like this in Camelot.”
“Couldn’t atau wouldn’t?” she asks. “There is a big difference.”
Arthur ponders this. “Wouldn’t,” he allows with a sigh. “He’s the king. He could have changed the rules. But he wouldn’t. So I will.”
Gwen nods, resting her head on his chest. They listen to the roar of the sea, the cries of sea-birds as they dive and swoop.
Arthur winds a lock of her hair around his hand, feeling the strands in his fingers. He dips his head and smells her hair.
Gwen smiles, remembering the first time he did that. Our wedding night. In that inn.
She giggles a little, and he looks at her.
“Something funny?”
“I was just thinking about the first time I caught anda smelling my hair like that.”
“Ah. The inn.”
“You were so sweet. I hadn’t realized that anda were…”
“Nervous?” he supplies.
“Inexperienced,” she grins at him, and he blushes. “Not that it mattered, of course. I was merely surprised.”
He shrugs. “I only ever wanted you. And before that, I honestly never had any time for… dalliances.”
“We seemed to do pretty well for a couple of first-timers,” she jokes as he turns her, pulling her into both his arms so she is facing him, pressing her small body against his.
“Yes, indeed,” he bends his head and kisses her. “And we keep getting better at it, too,” he says, grinning against her lips, nibbling, remembering his eager hands and hips, her conflict over wanting him but not wanting to appear improper, him coaxing the impropriety out of her, wanting her to enjoy herself as much as he was.
The thoughts and memories spin inside his head as he slips his tongue in between Gwen’s lips, bringing forth a faint whimper from the back of her throat that Arthur has learned to cinta hearing and, in fact, strives to bring forth as much as possible.
A twig snaps behind them, and they are snapped out of their world, pulling apart, grinning and looking sheepish.
“Evening, Aldwen, Goldie,” the local butcher, out for his evening walk, nods at them as he passes, a knowing smile crossing his weathered face.
“Evening, Bartley,” Arthur says as Gwen returns to his side. She smiles at the man as he passes them to continue along the path that follows the cliff.
“There’s going to be gossip tomorrow,” Gwen giggles as they walk back to the house.
Song 9: link
