Chapter Five
I had never much liked the wizard standing in front of me.
Merlin had always felt odd to my senses, as if he was an existence on this plane of life that should not be here.
When my father first sent me to train with the knights of Camelot as a youth, Merlin’s strange green eyes looked at me as if he was seeing more than just me and it had always sent shivers down my spine.
While every other soul had searched for the wizard after his disappearance ten years ago, I had secretly been glad of it. Camelot had become my home, and I was of the opinion that magic only brought danger.
And now he was back with a strange omega in tow—one who dared to argue with my king with no shame.
That was nearly unheard of. Many of the tribal kings, my father included, liked to bluster at Arthur, but none would dare speak to him the way this woman was let alone press such an impudent finger into his chest.
My hand had twitched to my sword upon seeing it until Bedivere’s steady hand capped my shoulder and he shook his head before speaking about packs .
I had never planned on taking an omega. They were few and far between in Logres, and while my father could have found me a lovely maiden to warm my bed and give me babes, I had no desire to leave my post at the round table.
They were my family now more than my own had ever been.
But the wizard’s next words stood to threaten my peace.
“The men who will be a part of the first ever pack in Logres are already here.”
Arthur wheeled around to look at us, his flushed face and wide eyes making me want to shrink as his power rolled off of him in waves.
In all of my years serving my king, I had rarely felt the flush of his alpha power as Arthur made a point to rule his people with the side of his brain that was of men rather than instinct.
However, as I felt it ripple over my skin like sandpaper, I barely managed to resist the urge to sink to my knees in front of him and bare my throat.
My eyes dropped to the ground and for a brief moment I was worried that Arthur would attack us because of the words of the wizard.
“Knock it off!” The omega’s pert voice cut through the sheer density of Arthur’s power followed by the sound of a smack that echoed off of the trees around us.
It was enough to release us and I felt my shoulders slump with relief as I finally managed to pull in a chestful of air.
“Did you just strike me, omega?” Arthur rounded on the woman with a growl.
“I did! I don’t know how you people do it here, but in my time alphas don’t bully those around them. King or not!” the omega replied fearlessly as she stood nose-to-nose with Arthur.
Suddenly, a soft rain started to fall overhead.
Confused, I stared up at the otherwise clear and star-filled sky.
There had not been a cloud in days—a part of the unseasonably dry spring we had been experiencing—and yet now the wet droplets clung to my hair as I continued to watch the omega argue with the king.
“I cannot tell if she is brave or stupid,” Gawain whispered wondrously behind me.
“Hush, pup,” Bedivere responded mildly as he stepped around me and approached the pair. “Your highness, it is not good to frighten your betrothed.”
“Betrothed?” Arthur asked him incredulously.
At the same time Gwen glanced over at the older alpha as if he were insane. “Frightened? Who is frightened here?”
Bedivere seemed taken aback by her words. “My lady, I was only trying to help.”
The softness of his voice made the omega’s straight spine relax ever so slightly. “Can you send me back to my time?”
Bedivere shook his head, clearly not understanding her words. “I am afraid I cannot.”
The omega’s resolute expression faltered, showing something more vulnerable under the sharp facade she was wearing as her full lips wobbled and she turned to Merlin. “What do you want me to do?”
The wizard sighed and raked a hand through his hair, making the dark sandy-colored curls stand on end. “For now, you two will have to get married—”
Both the omega and Arthur opened their mouths to argue but Merlin held up a hand to stop them. “This is the gods’ will. Do not test them any further than we already have. We can take it slowly, but for now, Gwen, your father approaches.”
“By which magic did you create her existence, Merlin?” Bedivere asked with a frown as I quickly glanced over my shoulder to the distant approach of torches.
“It was not my magic but the gods. Guinevere’s existence has always been in this time… sort of ,” Merlin explained with a careless shrug that grated on my nerves.
“Sort of?” I asked, my mouth feeling strange as I said the odd words out loud. “What does that mean?”
Merlin let out an irritated huff as he finally looked at me and threw his hands up in the air. “Must I explain the intricacies of magic to someone who clearly abhors it? Guinevere was always an existence in this world. She was always going to come here and she was always going to be the daughter of Leodegrance and his queen. It is her fate and yours.”
As if Merlin’s words had conjured the king himself, Leodegrance’s voice found us as he approached with his usual set of courtiers. “Guinevere, my daughter? Is that you?”
Guinevere’s brown eyes widened as she looked at Merlin, a question on her face. She did not seem to know how to respond to the man at all.
Merlin gave her a gentle push. “Go and be careful not to mention anything about time travel to anyone but the people you see here.”
She looked reluctant but still hurried past us, sparing us only a glance as she called out into the woods. “I’m here… Father .”
The name sounded odd coming from those plush lips, like it was something she was unused to uttering.
As soon as she disappeared into the darkness, we were alone again as the lights faded off into the distance once more.
“Merlin…” Arthur began again, his voice full of reproach. “Is there any other way to achieve the gods’ wishes? One that does not include, ah , sharing such an obstinate omega?”
But Merlin shook his head resolutely, his hands clenched into fists. “No. They were abundantly clear, Arthur. If you wish to save Logres, you will do this.”
Angrily, Arthur turned on his heel and stomped out of the clearing, disappearing in the same direction that Guinevere had exited just moments ago.
I moved to follow him but Bedivere stopped me with a look. “I will go after him, it is better if I talk to him instead of you.”
He was right, I knew it, but it still hurt that Bedivere would have more of my king’s trust than I ever would.
After Bedivere left I had no reason to remain behind. Turning to Gawain I pointed at Merlin. “Keep an eye on the wizard,” I bit off the order before hurrying in the opposite direction, needing a moment with my thoughts before I returned to the party.
Leodegrance’s lands were lush—far more than the craggy cliffs of my homeland—and I soon found myself at the edge of a creek just outside of where the merrymaking was still abundant close by.
Cheerful music and laughter found my ears but did little to assuage my tremulous thoughts as I perched on a rock and stared at the dark, flowing water.
“You always look so serious, Lance,” the familiar voice of my little sister soon reached me, pulling me from my brooding.
Vivienne stepped down the rocky bank, nearly skittering on some loose stones as she joined me with a cheeky smile—one so rarely seen these days since she had awakened as an omega.
It was a rarity to see my little sister outside of the castle and I could count on one hand the times that I had seen her since my father sent me away from Benoic to serve under Arthur.
At the time it had been a punishment for disgracing him in front of his knights. I had been young then, but after years of sitting in his cushioned throne my father had grown pliant and fat. It had been easy to best him with swords.
That had been my true folly. A subordinate was never supposed to best their master. I may have been King Ban’s son, but he never wanted me to forget that I was also his servant until he deigned to relinquish his throne to me… if that even occurred in the first place.
After all, two years had passed since my and Vivienne’s mother died and he took a girl eight years younger than me into his bed and gave him another son.
I had never met little Ban Du Lac as he remained in Benoic with his mother, but it would be unsurprising if the infant became our father’s heir instead.
“I am in no mood for silliness, Vivienne,” I grumbled to my sister but held my hand out to help her onto my rock anyway.
Vivienne was the picture of our mother, the childish plaits she used to wear as a girl long gone along with other signs of her change into a young woman. The soft cheeks and freckled nose had been replaced by powders and rouge that made her look feverish rather than like the blushing maid that father had wanted her to look like.
All to gain Arthur’s favor.
Most kings would have jumped at the chance to have such a young, compliant omega in their bed without having to fight for them.
But Arthur was not most kings.
That had become abundantly clear almost immediately upon meeting him.
“You are always in the mood for silliness from your own sister, Brother,” Vivienne told me imperiously as she stared out at the dark water quietly for a moment before speaking again. “You do know that I did not wish to marry Arthur, right? Princess Guinevere will be a much better match for a king like him.”
I angled a glance in her direction. “And what do you know of Princess Guinevere, tot?”
Vivienne scrunched her pretty nose at my childhood nickname. “I know that she is brave and kind, Lance, and she will make a good queen for King Arthur’s Camelot.”
I snorted at that. Her words were just the machinations of magic that neither she nor I understood. The gods were mysterious beings to be sure, but if they felt it was my fate to encroach on my master’s bond with his fated omega, then they were going to be full of discontent with me soon.
The moment I understood what serving under a king such as Arthur was like, I swore that nothing would stand in the way of my loyalty to him—and that I would never take a wife. The gods were now asking me to do both and I was reticent to even consider such things.
A pack was preposterous. A pack wouldn’t save Logres from the Saxons, only Arthur could and would. No matter what sorts of magic the gods put into the world to make everyone believe that Guinevere had always been here.
“Do you not believe so?” Vivienne asked, her pale brows rising with surprise. “You kept staring at her earlier when she appeared in the king’s arms after all.”
I opened my mouth to deny her claims but our relative peace was suddenly disturbed by the crunching sound of footsteps.
Looking over my shoulder I grimaced at the figure that was approaching and gave Vivienne a gentle shove so that she would not be caught sitting on the rock in such an unladylike manner.
“Lancelot, Vivienne,” the gruff sound of King Ban of Benoic had both of us stiffening as I slid off of the rock after her and swept into a bow.
“My king, I hope you have been well,” I bit out, meaning not a word of it.
“I have been looking for you since the announcement,” Ban barked as he straightened the heavy-looking purple cloak that seemed to weigh the round man down.
Once, I was sure that we would have resembled each other with our dark coloring and sharp eyes, but now the man in front of me looked as much like me as the rock I had just been sitting on.
“Father,” Vivienne hurried to say as she dipped into a practiced curtsey. “I was just getting Lancelot for you as I knew you were looking for him.”
Ban surveyed the scene in front of him imperiously before huffing. “Go to your mother, she has been looking for you. Make sure you speak with King Arthur before going to bed.”
Vivienne winced at the word ‘mother’ as the girl who our father had married was barely six years older than she was, but she still nodded and shot me an encouraging smile before scurrying off to do as Ban bid.
“Why are you still wanting her to speak with him?” I asked once she was out of earshot. “King Arthur has made his preference clear.”
He had not—not really—but there was an unspoken agreement between him and me to protect Vivienne before she was mature and ready enough for a husband. She was too young for any alpha let alone my king.
“Nothing is set in stone until the marriage vows are uttered, boy,” Ban snapped. “And your task was to make sure your sister married that dratted king of yours. How could you fail so marvelously?”
I was torn between my desire to ignore his words and the urge to take my fist to his face.
But I held myself back from both. Any action I took could reflect badly on Arthur and that was the very last thing the king needed at the moment.
“Have you ever considered Lambor for a groom?” I asked hesitantly, speaking of King Pellinore’s sons. Sir Lamorak, his oldest, was still older than Vivienne but at twenty and two years he was a far more suitable option for my sister than Arthur. He had also left a lasting impression on me during the last jousting tournament by treating all of those around him with a lasting kindness that I felt would suit my gentle sister.
Ban’s fat lips pulled down into a frown. “You know that Camelot is the true prize. Vivienne’s entire existence is to be Arthur’s queen. That is the only reason I have tolerated a daughter all these years.”
A chilling sensation roved over my skin and I had to fight not to snap at him. It was his desire to ‘create’ a wife for the young Arthur all of those years ago that had forced my mother to bear another child, damaging her body in the process.
But Ban continued, oblivious to my obvious displeasure, “You will talk to your king? Have him reconsider this alliance with Leodegrance?”
I would do no such thing, but I found myself nodding along regardless of my true feelings.
If I wanted to secure Vivienne’s safe future, I would have to play along with my father’s game of thrones that only he was playing at the moment.
Ban straightened, pleased by my agreement. “Good. Now do not tarry here for long. Your mother would like to introduce you to some eligible brides as well, it is long past time for you to marry.”
I gritted my teeth so tightly as I watched him hobble away that I felt my jaw pop.
With a clipped step, I headed in the direction of the sounds of celebration, my thoughts even more conflicted than they had been when I came upon the creek and the faint taste of sweet honeysuckle still lingering in my nose.