Arwen Fic: The Kissing Bush Part III of III
The Kissing Bush
Written for rubberglue who made a beautifully generous donation over at Fandomaid to help the Philippines. She requested a jealous Arthur as one of the prompts she let me choose from. :)
Characters: Arthur, Gwen, Merlin, Elyan, Percival, Gwaine, Leon (no Gaius, sorry, just didn't feel like including him) and an important OC
Artwork: the wonderfully talented and generous bound--to--you
Summary: Camelot is full of the Yuletide spirit and Days of Twelve, but one new addition to all the tradition causes Arthur to turn green with jealousy, the kissing bush. Read to find out why and rest assured, happy ending promised.
Note: This was a fic that just kept growing, especially after seeing the wonderful artwork created for it. So it will be posted in three parts. It is cannon until Morgana's first takeover of Camelot. From there it goes AU.
This **--** signals flashbacks and/or italics. I finally figured it out...yay.
Hope you enjoy and happy holiday season to everyone. Let's keep spreading that Arwen love. :)
***
It was one day later that after tending to work around the castle, Gwen found the front door to her home ajar and something peculiar hanging from the top of the entranceway. Carefully going inside, she breathed mild relief at the familiar black boots and deep brown winter coat.
With a cheeky grin he pointed upward. “Kissing Bush.”
Arthur gave an indulgent shrug. “I happen to be the king. That allows me certain liberties.”
“Such as?” Gwen asked with a touch of teasing.
“This.” Arthur whispered, stepping forward and grasping hold of her waist. A pull backward and he had her directly underneath the bushy wreath after giving a kick to the door to shut it tight. Advance of his lips and they were kissing.
“Mmmm…” Gwen sighed, wrapping her arms around his shoulders, before lowering her hands to let her fingers lazily fondle the opening of his tunic. Not missing a step, she told him importantly, “Tradition requires eleven more times. And yet my Lord we have no more than four days, barely that even.”
“Good point.” Arthur’s finger touched her bottom lip, getting Gwen to kiss it. He smiled with victory. “Two already. I have little doubt we’ll have issue with producing the required amount.”
“Ten more my Lord.” Gwen whispered up to him, teasing with her lips against Arthur’s cheek, a whisper and no more. “Sure we’re up to the task?”
His thumb pushed against her teasing mouth, his hands grasping her arms to pull her back. “Together my Lady, we’re up to any task.”
“Mmmm” Gwen murmured and lifted her hands, kissing Arthur again, so fully this time he half stumbled away from it with eyes still closed.
“That’s three.” She told him, getting Arthur to slowly nod and then finally open his eyes.
“Yes.”
Gwen remembered now though. “I need to get ready. No doubt I will be expected within the banquet hall soon.”
He nodded with a bit of covertness in his expression. “No doubt you will. I should leave then.”
He reached up, touching her hair, those tempting curls now too solidly pulled back into a bun. “But one thing.”
“What’s that?” She asked.
He fingered her cheek, lingered on her neck. “Wear your hair down. I love it that way.”
Gwen shook her head fervently. “To serve tables? I can’t do that! Too hard-
His finger pushed upon her lip, stopping all the protest. “You wouldn’t want to disappoint your king? Would you my Lady?”
Oh, okay. There it was again. That secret little grin playing upon his lips for just seconds before he attempted cover. So poor at it though. Most definitely her king who plotted battle so well was plotting something of a more intimate nature.
Gwen grasped Arthur by his tunic.
“What are you up to?”
Arthur glanced to the kissing bush, before making a straight face. “Nothing. Nothing at all. See you later Guinevere. Remember…” He gestured to the curls. “Down.”
And with that he departed, closing the door tight.
And as she fully entered her home, Gwen let out a gasp of shock.
“Oh Arthur! You silly wonderful man.”
…
When she first entered the banquet hall more than an hour later, the king stood up with an expression that couldn’t have been more enchanted if Merlin had put a spell upon him. Just about everyone stood with notice, following their king’s lead, including Gloier, and those sitting at Arthur’s table, now back to its regular position, which greatly relieved poor table six. Around Arthur, stood his brotherhood of closest knights with their noble ladies, and Merlin too of course.
Merlin’s gape soon flowed into an approving smile. About time Arthur started getting things right. Elyan’s look was one of pride, as every knight actually, Gwaine especially, grinned with approval.
Not letting her step in any further, the king made his way through the circle of tables, coming to the door to where she stood so beautifully. He brought out his hands, locking onto her fingers once his skin felt their sweet touch. Barely a step though and Arthur was pulling her back.
Gwen looked up to him questioningly and Arthur gestured even further upward.
Oh. The Kissing Bush.
He leant in for a suitable public kiss, but a romantic one nonetheless.
To be certain there were gasps let out around the banquet hall, but mostly the reaction was happy sighs. And oh the servants, other than the knights and Merlin, they were probably the most joyous of all, stopping all their work to view it. This was Gwen, always hardworking Gwen, now so fancily made up, kissing Camelot’s king. Like a Yuletide gift.
“Better.” Arthur smiled contentedly, feeling Gwen’s hand solidly in his as he led her to the twelfth table.
“This is beautiful, Arthur.” Gwen gestured downward to her attire.
“No.” He shook his head solidly. “It’s you who are beautiful in it.”
He was referring to her dress, a work of red and gold, satin and lace brocade, with, if you looked closely enough, twelve beaded sections upon the top part, twelve beaded loops upon the bottom trim, and twelve beads woven into the belt.
“You are the yuletide season entirely.” Arthur whispered. And she was, with her dark ringlets of hair that he found himself mesmerized by enough times, partly done up, with twelve curling pieces hung down to frame her pretty face. “I love this. Even though you partially neglected my command.”
Gwen’s eyebrows lifted, her voice firm and yet with a hint of tease. “King does not make you ruler of my hair. I have control of that.”
Arthur’s eyes lifted with a heeding roll. No doubt she did. As too Guinevere had control of many more things. Never a kneeling damsel, she was always surprising him with her balance of peace and strength.
Reaching forward now, he touched them, the wonderfully numbered hanging curls. “Twelve. Maybe it’s better than what I first wanted. Like having you there will make the table so much better. Come.”
The minstrels playing a softly romantic song now, Arthur and Gwen walked into the center of the circle before coming to the twelfth table, Arthur pulling out her chair for Gwen to sit.
…
It was many hours later, after dining upon another delicious meal, Gwen’s stomach this night not in knots, but still so unaccustomed to so much rich food, she had only eaten bits before getting up. So much more relaxed now, Arthur was conversing with his guests, going from table to table, but Gwen couldn’t help notice the sullen expression of one table guest. She meant what she had said to Arthur. Tricking and pretending wasn’t something she was comfortable with, and never wanted to be part of again. Remedy was her true focus now.
“My Lord. A word?”
Gloier followed her to the quietest part of the banquet hall, furthest away from the minstrels and lively dance.
He gestured to her. “You look beautiful. But I noticed that far before you started dressing in clothing only a king could produce.”
There was a touch of bitterness in his voice, even though she could tell he was trying to valiantly hide it.
Gwen nodded. “I know you did. And I thank you for that. And am so grateful you stayed.” She reached for his hand.
Gloier let her, but disengaged quickly.
“Won’t look right.” He told her curtly.
Gwen nodded again, handing him something now. “I had planned to give it to you during the dinner, but since I wasn’t serving this night…well time made me forget. Here, though…I told you I had someone better intended.”
Gloier looked at Gwen ruefully. “In this paper?”
Gwen laughed softly at that. “No. But the paper holds a name.”
He unfolded it, giving Gwen a queer look after reading. “Is this some kind of joke?”
Gwen shook her head. “Not at all.”
“She’s hardly my type. Nothing like you.”
“I disagree. And why should she be like me?”
Gloier sighed and Gwen went on.
“I asked Arthur personally to put her at your table when the seatings had to be rearranged and added to because I changed place. I did this because of you my Lord. Getting to sit at your table I started to get to know more of the nobles. Having the chance to talk to her I learned what a lovely woman she is.”
Shaking his head, Gloier touched Gwen’s hand quickly before removing his fingers. “What made me attracted to you was that you are nothing like these high fluted nobles. You carry yourself apart and-
Gwen cut through his argument, her tone sensitive, and yet sharp enough to give reproach. “But my Lord. You speak now of what you accused others of, Arthur included I’m guessing. You said how you noticed me even when I was wearing the clothing of a servant. Yet you look at the attire of a noble woman and you dismiss her so quickly. Is that not as dismissive? She told me herself of her interest in you, but she kept it short because she knew of your interest in me. You have many beliefs in common. I think that is something you will see if you just speak to her. I know you said I was like a temptress, but beyond, what was I to you? As much as we learned of each other, it couldn’t have been enough for that most private part of me is reserved for just one man. Always has been.”
To that, Gloier gave a wry smile. “Why do you have to be so wise Guinevere? So patient and calm. It makes it much too hard to get angry with you.”
Gwen smiled now too, stepping forward without hesitation to grasp Gloier’s hands. “Speak to her. I am sure you won’t be disappointed.”
Then peering back inside, noticing Arthur conversing joyfully with some of the guests in attendance, before his eyes lit upon her, all that blue full of happy shine, Gwen moved apart from Gloier. No haste in her step. Just resolve to be with her king.
When Gwen returned to Arthur, she felt his hand come to her shoulder as he kept her close, while continuing his conversations.
…
Hours later the minstrels played their last notes for the evening as Arthur escorted Guinevere home. Upon her doorstep he grasped hold of waist and pulled her in close. Gwen touched hand to his chest intimately as she felt her king’s kiss. He tasted like the sweet fruity pudding given for dessert.
As she caressed his cheek, Arthur asked, eyes fixed upon the woman he loved,
“What was that with Gloier?”
Gwen stroked the material of his tunic, feeling the hardness of his chest underneath. “Reason why I asked you to alter the seating at his table.”
Running his hand up and down Gwen’s waist, giving it an affectionate squeeze, Arthur nodded his head. “So that’s why you wanted me to do that? Being a bit of a matchmaker are you Guinevere?”
A sly smile touched her face. “No one should be alone for Yuletide.”
“Agreed.” Arthur whispered lazily, bringing his mouth to Gwen’s neck, kissing, tasting, and adoring.
“Mmm…” Gwen murmured passionately, and then let out a gasp as she felt her hair completely released from its binds. “Arthur!”
He laughed at that selfishly, running his hands through her coils of naturally curled hair as a mischievous smile played upon his lips. “How I love you like this. Wild, beautiful Guinevere.”
Hands grasping hers, Arthur kept backing them up until they were at her bed, tumbling onto it.
“Arthur.” Gwen laughed, but then lifted her arms to bring his face down to her lips. “Oh Arthur.”
His nose nuzzled into her hair and against her skin as he told her very authoritatively, “Such a frigid winter as we have now, there is always a sure remedy.”
Biting her lip, and sensuously running her tongue over it, feeling his finger coming down, and stopping her momentarily, Gwen asked, “And that is?”
“To have one’s body close to another’s. In fact the more revealed skin the better.” He whispered, bringing his hand underneath the top part of her dress, stroking the naked skin there. “Much much better than clothing.”
“Oh... And you have experience with this?” Gwen asked coyly, running her hand up underneath Arthur’s red tunic, fingering his skin too.
“Some.” He answered, possessively pressing his mouth to hers again, feeling as their tongues brushed and how it made his body shiver with excitement. “I think you are the ideal candidate to help me perfect it.”
Gwen liked that answer. There was no mystery in that before her Arthur had been with other women, but certain very private parts of himself he had kept just for love.
His hands grazed upon her dress at the shoulders, getting it pulled down some as he whispered against her curls of hair. “I promise, I’ll stop before it goes too far.”
To that Gwen lifted her hands, fingers stroking finely stubbled skin of his cheeks as her lips moved up to kiss him, her whisper sensuous and trusting. Seemed they’d have no difficulty at all fulfilling the rules of that tantalizing little kissing bush.
“Noted. Now let’s keep working on that perfection.”
***
The next night Gwen gained Arthur’s hand under the table and whispered in his ear, recalling how successfully they had shared body heat. It brought a warm glow to her now as she relived it for a few precious seconds, and yet true to word, Arthur had stopped it before things got too far.
Actually she had to help him with that, both of them breathing quite heavily by that point, and much barer.
Nevertheless, they had gotten up from the bed, fixed the bits of loose clothing, and kissed a very late goodnight at her door, adding to their bush count.
He too was smiling now with indulgent reverie, until he heard her words more clearly.
“What was that you said?”
Gwen smiled knowingly. Arthur told her the night before he had enjoyed watching so much how she danced, but that he really was more a battle king than a dancer. Probably, he wouldn’t be able to lead her out like that and circle around…etc…
“I said, my love, let us take the floor.”
“I believe it is the man that is supposed to ask that.” He squeezed her hand under the table, admiring how once again Gwen’s beautiful dark curls were hanging in lengths of twelve. It accented her lavender dress she wore that she had created with her own hands beautifully.
“Well, and you see my dilemma then, my Lord, yes? Because the man who holds my hand now has yet to ask me.”
“Guinevere-
He started to say, getting her to smile further and press a kiss to Arthur’s lips, audacious and unaccustomed for her, but Gwen was feeling a wild release building in herself the more time they spent together in public view. And it was so welcome, to finally hold his hand and touch his cheek without feeling that anybody would object, that she should hide her intimate thoughts. It was the sweetest release.
“Come, Arthur. Dance with me.”
Oh her lure was too tempting, her hand pulling him until Arthur was up and out of his seat. Letting out a sigh, he followed her to the middle of the floor, observing how so many moved aside.
Well of course. The king was joining them and so it was assumed he would want center stage. Arthur wasn’t sure though, circling around Gwen for his first awkward steps and clumsily landing upon her toes.
“Oh.”
“I told you.” He hissed out now, pulling her hand, but Gwen held tight to keep him upon the floor as the music changed from a lively number to a slower moving one that made her hips give a gentle sway. Arthur focused upon it, whispering sharply. “Guinevere.”
She laughed softly, hands brushing his sides, before she spun away, finding Arthur’s hand and lifting it with hers. Noticing him still hesitating, she whispered, “Just act like you’ve done in the past when you’ve had too much to drink. Why do you think I wanted so many toasts of wine this evening? To loosen you more. But seems I need to loosen you even beyond that.”
Arthur shook his head, even though it was true. Enough drink in him and the story was that he danced around, but Guinevere wasn’t getting it, because even then he wasn’t as steady and rhythmic as Gloier had been.
On the contrary, when he held onto Guinevere’s hand it sometimes tangled, or was too stiff, and she had to fix it back into proper place. She was so beautiful in her movement. He was…well almost as clumsy as Merlin could be, sorcerer or not.
Almost…that is.
And yet the way the music seemed to find her body, or maybe she it, how it was like poetry, as silly as that sounded, finding its way to the floor, Guinevere was so good at dance. So hypnotic. Focusing squarely upon her and forgetting that there were others around them, feeling her hand brush his side every so often to privately encourage, Arthur found himself finally loosening up and enjoying himself. And as he did his dancing improved.
Greatly.
Oh sure, there were a few missteps here and there, a couple of more times of sore toes, but Gwen could stand that to ultimately be sharing the floor with him.
…
As the night advanced, Gwen smiled at the sight of Gloier and the lady she asked to be sat at his table. They were dancing too, looking like they were enjoying themselves quite much. She knew they would, but hmmm…the king was nowhere in sight. It surprised her now as Merlin came to her side, saying he’d escort her home.
“What happened to Arthur?” Gwen asked.
Merlin sighed. “Matters of state. Said he’d come by later and tell you about it.”
…
Later turned out to be nearly the next day, the hour so advanced Gwen had started to fall asleep in her bed when she heard the knock.
Wrapping her lavender cloak around herself as she was just wearing her night dress, Gwen moved to the door, asking, “Who is it?”
“It’s Me Guin.”
Oh. Arthur called her that only when they were alone, sometimes being a romantic moment, at other times meaning something important. By the heavy tone of his voice she was guessing the latter signaled it tonight.
Opening the door, his sober face verified her feelings. Gwen shut it and watched as he stood there with his back turned, looking pensive, his crown even awfully askew.
“Oh, Arthur.” She started to push it back more evenly, but he tangled with her hands, pulling it off.
“Blasted thing. You know I never like wearing it.”
She smiled at that mildly, before sitting down with him at the bench to her table. Taking Arthur’s hands, she asked him, worried by his heavy expression, “What is it?”
He lowered his head, looking miserable, fingers pulling messily at his hair until Gwen caught them and held fast. “Arthur.”
Lifting his face, Arthur told her finally. “Seems you were right. My rudeness didn’t pay off. The King of Narsinga has broken our treaty. Word of it came by raven earlier.”
“Oh Arthur, what happened?” Gwen asked, touching his cheek gently and stroking with her fingers.
“I don’t know.” Arthur muttered. “I guess Verona found out the truth, that I don’t love her. Or…well…I made no effort to see her before she left. Once the treaty was reached, I let that be that. Stupidly.”
Gwen shook her head, disagreeing fervently. “Not stupidly. With honesty.”
“Oh.” Arthur got up from the table. “What does it matter Guinevere? The peace between our kingdoms is over. He says he will make no moves in the winter months, but beyond that…Camelot might have to prepare for battle.”
Gwen stood up from the bench to come behind Arthur, her hand wrapping around his waist as she asked passionately, “Would you go to war with him for something like this?”
“I may not have a choice Guinevere.” Arthur answered, pushing his hands up through his hair again, his head shaking. “I have a kingdom to think about. Without this treaty, not only is Camelot in danger from the Saxons, but also Narsinga. I’ve failed my people.”
“No.” Gwen reached around now, bringing Arthur into her arms, feeling his head fall upon her shoulder as he leaned against her. “Oh my Love.” Always Arthur would be a strong king, confident on the battlefield, and much more intelligent than first sight seemed to infer, but his greatest strength was also his greatest weakness, for Arthur more than any other ruler she had ever witnessed, loved the people without reservation. To bring any danger to them was his biggest dread.
She sighed, holding him close, but then recounting a bit of information given to her during the Days of Twelve, Gwen pulled back.
“What?” He asked, blue eyes weary.
“It’s something Gloier said. Well, more than something. Arthur, did you not think about it?”
“What are you talking about Guinevere?” He asked impatiently, so delaying things no further, Gwen gave answer.
“Narsinga neighbors Sorleois. Gloier knows its king. They are allies. Their kingdoms have been for many years. So don’t you see…”
Arthur’s eyes widened with the first bit of hope. “Do you think he’d listen? Do you think he’d be able to help?”
Gwen smiled encouragingly, holding onto Arthur’s hand. “I think we’d be fools not to ask.”
He made his way to the door, not letting go of Gwen’s hand. Her questioning expression made him stop though.
“Guin?”
“You want me to go with you?”
She sounded so surprised that Arthur caught her by the waist. “Of course I do. You’re the one who suggested it. Like the wise woman you are.” Bending down, gently kissing her upon the lips he whispered, “Like only a queen could.”
Gwen shook her head. “I’m not a queen.”
Arthur’s response was mysteriously enticing. “Not yet anyway. Now come on.”
“Wait.” She blushed now, gesturing to her wear, or lack of it that is. “I should change.”
“Oh.” He smiled, reaching for the ties of Gwen’s cloak and loosening them so that it fell away, revealing the fragile beauty of her nightdress and the curves of her woman’s body. “So beautiful.” He whispered, leaning in and kissing her slowly, grasping at Gwen’s curls when he was done, and finally standing back, agreeing.
“Yeah. You should.”
His fingers grazed her cheek and neck.
“Until we’re alone.”
Oh.
Gwen had to push away from him then to avoid the urge to just pull him into her arms. Matters of state took priority now, but oh how hard it was to resist.
Just as difficult as it was for him.
Love was turning into such a passionate pool of feeling that could easily melt away the cold weather outside.
…
And it even politically united them as now together they found Gloier. Gwen felt terrible at first. After a lovely night with the noble lady she had seated at his table, he had returned to his room to fall to sleep.
One hour after his head hit the pillow there they were waking him up and scaring Gloier into action. Arthur had to hold him off from attacking with his sword.
“Oh Arthur. It’s late. And Guinevere?”
He was so shocked, but after hearing what had occurred between Arthur and the King of Narsinga, Gloier was nodding his head, standing there now barefoot, but fully clothed otherwise. “Verona is his pride and joy. Insulting her, you created quite a mess I’m sure.”
“I didn’t mean to.” Arthur told Gloier now humbly. “I just needed that treaty so badly for Camelot’s welfare. The Saxons are becoming a greater threat every passing of Yuletide.”
“Agreed.” Gloier answered. “But Arthur, Sorleois has the same proximity to them. They are using our borderlands just as much and so a guarantee of Camelot’s assistance as we do our part in kind could make the treaty not so needed.
Thus still, I may even be able to get him to change his mind. The King of Narsinga is a highly emotional man. No doubt you noticed. Give it some time. I’ll do my best if in return Camelot offers defense. Your armies are much bigger than ours.”
Gwen grinned at Arthur now and Gloier, stating, “I knew you’d help us. For you are a noble man my Lord.”
Gloier smiled now too, adding in though, “Not for free. I’m not that nice of a man.”
Arthur laughed heartedly at that. “Then you’re a wise one too. For no kingdom should be so liberal.” He offered his hand. “Camelot thanks you and I thank you with a depth of gratitude. You have my word on it too. Camelot’s defense in return for your cooperation in keeping the Saxons at bay, and at least attempting reconciliation to Camelot’s benefit with Narsinga. I still would like to have them as allies.”
“Then you’re a smart man.” Gloier commented. “I’ll do my best. We can write it all before my departure and put our names to signature. Your word is respected, but on paper-
Arthur didn’t require the man to finish. “Agreed. We will take care of all of it soon. Guinevere…” Arthur gestured to Gwen, lightly wrapping his arm around her… “Tells me she encouraged you to stay and I’m glad she did.”
“I’m sure you are.” Gloier commented knowingly.
Gwen left the room then and Arthur was set to go too, when Gloier caught his arm. “You are a lucky man Arthur. I hope you don’t neglect your fortune again.”
It was half warning? Advice? Arthur wasn’t sure, but not really bothered either.
Gloier said it with no outward menace and Arthur was set on never taking love for granted again anyhow. The almost threat of losing Guinevere was enough, no matter how serious it had been.
“I know I am. And no worries. I am not a perfect man. But one thing is certain. I never make the same mistake twice.”
Gloier smiled. “Hope for yours and Gwen’s benefit that’s true. Very well then.”
Arthur departed after that bit of unsolicited advice. Gloier was a forward man and so he’d leave it to that. Actually he was feeling so much more assured and for much of that he had the solid wisdom of Guinevere to thank, which he did as he walked her home.
Then after returning to the castle he rushed through the downstairs area, waking up his snoring court sorcerer.
Nevertheless, Arthur just ignored Merlin’s weary rants and told him what the plan was. This time it had nothing to do with kingdom affairs, but something of personal nature.
***
It was January 5th, a decidedly cold day, nevertheless with enough sunshine to give fragile pretty light to the sky, the snow its softest that it had been in days. With the issue of Narsinga taken care of for the moment, Arthur arrived at Gwen’s house early morning, mood light and focused upon fun. He delivered a soft kiss to hand and lips afterward, times eight and nine. It was the last day of twelve and so they would have to kiss three more times underneath the kissing bush, but neither was worried. It was little labor.
They ran out into the snow excitedly, Arthur telling her he had a surprise.
Gwen gasped with delight at the horse drawn sleigh. A somewhat grumbling Merlin, Arthur’s early morning wakeup call had left him with little sleep and no time to catch some breakfast, was at its head.
Still, the sight of Gwen in pretty burgundy, cloak and dress alike, roused him to action.
“Ah…” Merlin declared, giving a dashing bow which Arthur rolled his eyes at.
The man looked silly to him wearing a deep red coat and bright floppy matching hat. It caused Arthur to mutter, “And you didn’t want to wear the pointy one. You look ridiculous.”
Merlin made a face which Gwen laughed at, before she stepped up with Merlin’s assistance.
Of course Arthur found objection. “Eh. Move away Merlin. I’ll help her.”
“Clotpole.”
“Idiot.”
“Maybe I should turn you into a slimy frog!”
Merlin’s hands were out in threat as Arthur disengaged his sword. “Try it and you’ll be-
“Okay! Enough.” Gwen told them both sharply, giving such a look of firmness that both men shuffled their feet in the snow awkwardly.
“Sorry Gwen.”
“Apologies Guinevere.”
Each took one of Gwen’s hands, getting her to shake her head with amusement, especially as they muttered under their breaths meant only for each to hear…
“Asshat.”
“Cabbagehead.”
“That’s mine! Find your own!”
“Fine, Conehead.”
“Boys.”
They both shut up as Arthur sat back in the sleigh with Gwen, wrapping his arm around her shoulder; Merlin was at the front again, signaling for the horses to be off.
Fancifully he told Gwen how he had created the sleigh with magic. It was run down at first, but a bit of enchantment and it turned into the wonderful mode of transportation it was now. Gwen clapped her hands with delight as Arthur glared at the back of Merlin’s floppy head-er-hat.
When they got to the spot intended, Merlin was far past weary, and grinning.
Arthur helped Gwen get down from the sleigh before turning around. “Alright, Merlin. You can leave now. Just remember to return some hours before dark.”
Merlin gaped at him with shock. “I’m hungry.”
Arthur had a basket of food he made Merlin conjure up earlier. It was steaming hot with Merlin’s magic.
“Conjure up your own basket then.”
Merlin stuck his tongue out. Arthur just laughed.
But Gwen soon had hold of the basket. Arthur let out protest, but he was too late. She was already taking it out. “Here Merlin, some sweet breads for you. Nice and hot. Thank you so much for doing all this for us. We will see you in a bit, yes?”
Merlin smiled with a touch of a blush as Gwen kissed his cheek. “Of course Gwen.”
Then he steered the horses and sleigh away.
Gwen shook her head at Arthur, but good-naturedly looped her arm through his. “Now what are you up to?”
He grinned, pressing his head against hers. “Lots.”
…
Their sweet and hot breakfast was delicious. Later they took a walk through the snow, admiring the frosted trees that stood high above them, and the banks of pure white from the freshly fallen ice crystals.
It was during their stroll, that Gwen’s hand came out of her red cloak. She pushed back the burgundy material, rounding the iciness into her hand. And then as Arthur walked ahead, she aimed and fired.
Perfect shot. Right at his-
Arthur howled with shock and felt for his rear end, touching icy wetness.
Then he turned around, spotting the criminal evidence, the remains of a round snowball crashed upon the otherwise smooth snow, and icy parts of it still upon his black pants.
“What was-
He started to ask with bewilderment, but then focused upon the curly haired woman standing behind him, with her face up to the clouds and bit of sun, her hands stuck behind the back of her burgundy dress.
“Guinevere?” He asked with a scrutinizing look. “Did you just-
She whistled innocently.
“Oh you did!” He pointed sharply.
Gwen giggled, but then Arthur was reaching down to the snow too, finding a big lump that he started to shape into a plump round snowball.
Gwen ran to a steep bank, hastily gathering her own.
Like soldiers behind embankments and huddled deep into trenches, it began.
A snowball battle.
Each of them finding their own fortresses of protection, they formed and swung.
Laughter, screaming, and running ensued as each sought to avoid the flying balls of snow while also rounding up enough of it to set up proper defense.
The mad war continued until their banks of protection were pretty much depleted and each was starting to shiver from the times they were hit.
Gwen was running to find another bank of safety as Arthur gave chase. Soon enough he had his hands around her waist. She was being swung around and he was losing his footing.
They fell to the snow blankets in a messy heap, laughing and hollering.
Gwen hit first. Arthur looked down at her, at especially all those dark curls of hair perfectly contrasting the whiteness, asking, “Are you hurt?”
Gwen smiled, even as she was breathing hard from all the exertion. “No. You?”
Arthur shook his head. “No.” And with her lying underneath, his lips sought hers, finding them happy to oblige. They kissed with hands tangling through hair, his blonde waving locks, her dark ringlets, and grasping onto clothing with fervor of feeling.
Oh, Gwen thought, as Arthur’s lips founds her neck and she pressed her mouth against his cold cheek to warm it.
And Arthur’s heart beat quickened as he felt her passionate response, a lift of her leg, a hand twisting through his hair while the other stroked his back and side.
It was hard to shut it off, the frenzy of desire, but after a few moments Arthur did, thinking if they didn’t get off the freezing snow they’d spend the night in their respective homes nursing off sickness. He had plans that wouldn’t do well with that.
So with a grunt of reluctant resolution, he parted from Gwen, although whispering earnestly , “I love you.”
She didn’t look all that pleased they were ending things so suddenly either, but truth be told, her backside was starting to feel very wet where the cloak had fallen askew. Time to get up. “I love you too Arthur.”
He pulled at her hands and they stood together, holding each other close.
…
Later that afternoon, according to plan, Merlin picked them up. Arthur kissed Gwen at her door and told her he looked forward to seeing her later, informing her that the celebration of twelve, being its last day, would happen earlier, before the sun’s light had faded.
Once again he met her at the door, and yet peculiarly did not kiss her this time. Gwen was in gold and white, a dress Arthur had once again provided her with, parts of it made by seamstresses within the kingdom, and others actually produced by Merlin enchanting it.
…
The music was lively and full as Arthur hit his knife against his goblet, getting silence to fill the banquet hall. The knights and Merlin all smiled with knowing as Gwen wondered what was Arthur up to this time.
It didn’t take her long to find out.
Arthur made a speech about how special she was, the handmaiden of Camelot that everyone adored, including himself. But then there were words that Gwen swore it was like she was hearing them through a cave. They were something she had wanted to hear for years now, but finally having them elicited from Arthur’s lips, they were a shock, especially when he kneeled down right in front of her, taking her hand in his.
“It’s taken me a long time to come to this. Longer than it should have. Rest assured Guinevere it was never you.” He exchanged a look with Merlin who smiled with friendly knowing. Then Arthur’s eyes were once again only for the woman he loved.
“But me. I grew up without a mother. I was taught by my father that to be king it was about ruling the kingdom and marrying someone of noble value. Of worth. However, what he didn’t realize was that you are the noblest of all. Camelot is in good stead now because of not only your wisdom, but gift for diplomacy that you extended to the honorable King Gloier, who I also thank.”
He made a respectful nod now toward the King of Sorleois who was sitting with the noble lady whom Gwen knew he would have much in common with. They were seated so close that it warmed Gwen’s heart as it was almost overwhelmed now too by Arthur’s words of love and belief in her.
Gloier nodded back to Arthur in kind, smiling at Gwen, happy he had agreed to stay, for she was right, the Lady Aldora a lovely surprise that he was enjoying getting to know.
Everyone listened as Arthur continued, Gwen the most, feeling his hand upon her knee, fingers linked with hers.
“I admit now Guinevere that I have feared sometimes that I might not be able to give you enough. For I am not a man without attachments, as you know well. And yet I realize now that I can share that with someone else, and be no less king, no less husband.”
Gwen pressed her hand against her chest. The word husband, so beautiful, so desired for so long.
“I’m not a romantic sort Guinevere, my Love, nor much of a dancer. I’m a king who wears crowns poorly, more adapted to the battlefield and action, but that imbalance is where I no longer fret. For you are a magnificent dancer, wear everything with such grace and beauty, and you temper my action with all your wisdom. There could be no better queen for me or Camelot. Of that I have no doubt. Nor of how much I love you.”
Tears were falling from Gwen’s eyes now as she reached down and caressed Arthur’s cheek, holding still to it as his hand pressed against her knee, his own knee still bent in kneeling fashion.
“This must be fast. You’ll see why soon. So with your pardon, in days ahead, we will fulfill the other part, a coronation with you as Camelot’s queen.
That is if this day you agree to it. You accept my proposal and give me your hand in marriage. Of that I ask you humbly…without any more words of decoration.”
“Oh.” Gwen whispered.
And Arthur smiled, pretending like they were the only ones there, looking into her midnight eyes, feeling like she was all in his vision. “Will you marry me Guinevere upon this last day of twelve? Will you join your heart with mine and become my wife?”
Gwen couldn’t help it, a sound eliciting from her mouth like that of a gasp and a spontaneous laugh of joy. For her too it was like all surrounding had disappeared, more than magic, love creating a wall just around them, Arthur’s face raining upon her vision. And her heart beating with such needing anticipation.
“Yes.” It eked out to barely a whisper as she watched Arthur’s hope turn to excitement.
“Yes?” He asked almost like she hadn’t said it and Gwen nodded her head vigorously, feeling the tears give a fragile burn to her cheeks as they found flow. “Yes, oh yes I will.”
It was his own gasp of happiness that filled her ears then, his enthused sigh as she clutched his cheeks and Arthur held fast to her shoulders and waist.
And the room.
Oh the room suddenly came back to life, the applause and murmurs of feeling so profound, reminding them they were not alone.
As the minstrels started up a glorious song of new life together, Arthur jumped up and in moments Gwen was fully in his arms, with him spinning her around as everyone hollered and clapped more. Gwen smiled over his shoulder when finally Arthur stopped moving and admired the beautiful dress he picked out. Oh no wonder, with all its little gold and white adornments of twelve.
…
Everything moved so fast after that. Arthur excitedly told her they had to make haste and notably not a single person denied going out into the snow for the quick ceremony, all of them rushing to see what the destination would be.
Gwen knew though, smiling so fully as Arthur led her by hand and then they separated, for this part should be done apart.
Elyan proudly led his sister over to him, walking her across the first half of the bridge to meet the king right at its middle. The Druid priest stated the words to be repeated. Arthur and Gwen did as told, with a few shakes in voice, so excited to finally be at this place of their lives. It was almost like Christmas coming all over again, like the year starting its new blaze. Five days past, last day of twelve, it was just wonderful and right.
Arthur placed upon Gwen’s finger the ring that had been his mother’s, and then it was time. As he lifted it from behind his back she let out amused and joyous laughter.
“The kissing bush.”
Arthur grinned. “Almost the final time.”
“To kiss?”
He quickly shook his head. “No. I see a future of those being infinite.”
Gwen laughed, feeling Arthur chuckling too as his lips came down to hers, and as romantically they let everyone see, respectfully too let it be noted, the fullness of their love.
By that time the crowd included so many people, servants, villagers, just about everyone within Camelot wanting to get a glance of the soon to be new queen and their king ever so happy. It was such a lump sum of people that some kids even sat upon their parents’ shoulders, scrunching up their faces at the kiss, but then clapping their hands when everyone else did.
And at that moment, in those precious few moments, it came, the time when the sun eclipsed the clouds at just the right pinnacle. Everyone gasped at the beauty of the ice, turned to a myriad of kaleidoscopic color and shine.
Arthur held Gwen fast against him, whispering, “For you my wife. Look at how the ice sparkles like magic.”
At his words Gwen lowered her head to Arthur’s chest, feeling such warmth there despite the building winds. “Its gift is almost as wonderful as you my husband. Almost.”
Oh how he loved the sound of that, husband, as much as she coveted the way his voice uttered wife.
Like always, the time of sun creating that magnificent show lasted no more than a handful of minutes, but nothing could take away from its temporary beauty.
…
After it had faded entirely, they returned to the banquet hall. Arthur announced then for the servants to join too. No more work. Time for celebration. Feeling so free, he even danced spiritedly with his new wife.
The fun lasted far into the hours of night.
…
Soon though it came, the time for the king and queen to make their exit. They rushed up the steps excitedly with chuckles and giggles.
Of course it was there, right at the door’s top, hung for them to observe and give action to.
“The kissing bush.” Gwen whispered.
Arthur whispered back against her face. “The kissing bush indeed.”
He started to move in, but Gwen beat him to it, grasping her husband’s face with her hands and kissing him fully and passionately upon the lips.
“My King.”
“My Queen.” He whispered, even though it would be a few days before that was cemented.
He then swept her up into his arms, getting Gwen to giggle, but as he laid her down upon the bed, decorated with holly, ivy, and mistletoe, for flowers could not sustain the winter’s cold, their laughter subsided, and taking its place was intimate touches, warm wet kisses, and discovery of desires finally set free.
Clothing slowly was pulled away under sometimes trembling fingers, so much of it firsts for them. Then naked, but for the covers, feeling the warm glow of the flaming fire in the hearth, and the even warmer glow of their bodies pressed so fully against each other, they opened to each, loved with vibrations of passion and aching pleasure. As pinnacle was reached, a cry from her lips, a gasp out of his mouth, they bit down the pain and joy. And after climax subsided they lay together with lazy indulgence.
Before morning could come, before the days of twelve came to its last seconds, Arthur pressed twelve kisses upon his wife’s bared body and she did the same for him. Then they whispered sleepily,
“Goodnight Arthur. Mind those snores Dear Husband. Oh and…”
Arthur let out a squeal of surprise, before grasping her hand to bring it there again.
“Only I get to touch this part of your anatomy now. Agreed?” She informed him authoritatively, the question only half hearted. As his wife, she was decreeing the law.
Arthur grinned, returning the favor, laying his hand upon her womanly rear. “Agreed.”
Of course he couldn’t help complain, “But I do not snore like a swine, Guinevere. Now goodnight you beautiful distracter.”
She smiled at his lack of insult. Arthur really was such a heartfelt king, unable to put her down without fluster. One of twelve reasons why she loved him so.
As now the twelve days ended, but no matter. For they’d do fine without the kissing bush until the next Yuletide.
Marriage, love, and partnership would ascertain that.
The End
***
Thank you for reading. :) Happy Holidays everyone and coming New Year. Territories readers, thank you for your patience. An update is being worked on along with a few other possible projects. And thank you so much to rubberglue again and bound--to--you...such a joy to write this.
