Chapter Eleven
“ C ome now Gawain, give us one more!” Agravaine hooted loudly in my direction, clearly drunk as he waved his mug of spirits through the air. The ale promptly sloshed all over his neighbor who also seemed too drunk to care.
I ignored my brother’s calls and slipped out of the large double doors from the great hall into the blissfully quiet corridor beyond.
The evening had drawn on long after the royal couple retired for the evening and the people who remained were too far to make it back to their own chambers for the evening and would likely end up either sleeping at their tables or passed out in the halls.
Lancelot and Bedivere also had gone off on their own almost as soon as Arthur had left, but I remained behind, unable to free myself from the constant song requests and raucous laughter that still rang in my ears.
The desire to please those around me had always been an unfortunate drawback of my upbringing. Even now I felt the sharp teeth of guilt in my chest for ignoring Agravaine’s words though I knew the man would be far too drunk to remember anything in the morning.
I needed some time to myself to sit on everything that I had learned over the last week. My thoughts were a tangle in my mind as I tried to parse through the shifting emotions I had felt all day as I watched my king get married to a beautiful omega… who somehow was supposed to become my own as well.
Such a thought was preposterous and I needed time to ruminate over it.
And yet, as my luck would have it, nothing ever seemed to go the way I desired it to.
“Oh my, Gawain, is that you?” the simperingly familiar voice of my stepmother reached my ears, making my back stiffen as I eyed the door that would lead out to the castle grounds and the blissful solitude I so craved. Could I pretend as if I had not heard her? Likely not.
“Your majesty,” I said with a surrendering sigh, turning to find not only my stepmother, but also my father standing together at the end of the hallway. “I greet the king and queen of Lothian.”
It was a formal address, but I knew that they both preferred it that way—especially when it came to me.
Queen Morgana, despite being Arthur’s half-sister, looked nothing like the King of Camelot. Her hair was long and dark, looking more like inky midnight than actual hair. Also unlike Arthur’s broad, strong features, Morgana’s were sharp and pointed as if they could cut someone at a moment’s notice. I had been sliced more than once by one of those looks when I did something that did not suit the mold she had placed me within at a very young age.
Then there were her eyes that were unlike any shade that a normal person could have: a pale shade of lavender that seemed to glow with an unearthly light. It was like Merlin’s green-eyed gaze, but unlike the wizard her eyes always sent a shiver of discomfort through me.
Truthfully, the only similarity Morgana and Arthur did share was a father who both of them barely knew or cared for. Uther Pendragon had been famously cruel and one would be hard pressed to find someone who missed the man.
Fifteen years ago, after the death of my mother—his second wife—my father had searched for a third queen despite already having four sons to succeed him.
I was only a young lad when he had brought in Morgana who, at the time, was only a few years older than me. She was even younger than my eldest brother Agravaine, something I was sure that he had never forgiven our father for.
Once she had given birth to Mordred, my esteem in my father’s eyes fell even more.
Agravaine, Gaheris, and Gareth were the sons of his beloved first wife. His heir, his spare, and even a third son to cement his legacy. Mordred was his youngest and had a mother alive to show him favor.
But myself? I had nothing. I was the son of a second wife, no claim to any throne and oft forgotten.
Unless, of course, it suited someone’s needs.
“I was searching all over for you today,” Morgana said as she practically floated across the cobblestones to me while my father stayed back, looking bored as he examined a painting on the wall.
He looked older than the last I had seen him five years ago and his previously muscled body had thinned out, becoming almost frail. Never could I have imagined that the man who had spent most of his life feeling disappointed in me would one day shrivel up so completely as if he were some kind of dried fruit.
Deep down, I knew it had to do with his wife. It was a terribly kept secret that the queen of Lothian was a sorceress—but as the land had flourished under her heavy, magical hand so many turned a blind eye to her many… eccentricities .
I waited for her to speak, knowing that I had been visible to any who sought me out throughout the day. There were many chances for her to talk to me inside of the great hall as well, but as always, Morgana waited to get me on my own in order to make whatever request she had of me.
Morgana seemed slightly perturbed that I wouldn’t play along, but she quickly shook it off and her unearthly lavender gaze narrowed. “Mordred is of an age to start learning swordsmanship.”
I scoffed inwardly at that. Mordred was ten and four years old, long past the age to pick up a sword. Even I had started my training when I was barely more than a babe and could hold the chipped wooden practice sword that all of my older brothers had used.
But Morgana kept her only son close, not allowing him to mingle with me or any of our other brothers. I barely knew the lad and Agravaine, Gaheris, and Gareth even less so.
Morgana continued, oblivious to my clear distaste for her coming request. “I would like for you to ask Arthur if he would be willing to teach his only nephew how to use a sword.”
There it was. The reason she had needed to speak with me.
It was not lost on me that she had referred to my king casually by his first name—purporting the closeness that they had never actually possessed.
Arthur tolerated his half-sister, but I knew that at the best of times the woman made him uncomfortable, and at the worst, he worried she would try to place her own son on his throne as his heir. Morgana’s ambition was famous in Logres and as Mordred grew older, so did it.
“He needs a strong alpha to show him how to behave like one and I believe my brother is the perfect man to do so,” she said as if she and Arthur were close.
I blinked with surprise at her words. Last I had heard, Mordred still had not awakened as anything but a beta and if he needed an alpha wouldn’t our father be the correct one to teach him?
Glancing over her shoulder at my father, I found his gaze to be hazy and far away, as if he was not really present with us.
Frowning, I looked back into Morgana’s eyes and found that they seemed to be glowing in the dim light of the corridor. They looked the same as Merlin’s had when he spoke of the portent that brought Guinevere to us. The same portent that I had been trying to mull over before Morgana had stopped me.
“Would Agravaine not be a better person to ask?” I asked, grinding out the words through gritted teeth, trying my damndest to avoid the sudden intensity of her eyes.
“No, Agravaine does not hold Arthur’s ear as you do,” Morgana said with a shake of her head, reaching for my hands and frowning when I pulled them out of her grasp. “I wish for Mordred to understand where he came from.”
Everything about what she was saying rang true as a mother’s desperate plea, but still her expression remained cold and focused.
A buzzing filled my head, making it ache fiercely as I tried to find the right words to reject her with.
“You are his elder brother, Gawain,” my father finally chimed in gruffly from behind Morgana. “It is your duty to do this.”
I pressed the heel of my hand to my head, trying to soothe away the ache.
“Come now,” Morgana’s voice reverberated soothingly in my ears. “You want to help him, do you not?”
And suddenly I did want to help Mordred. I had always felt… sad about the distance in our relationship. I had been sent to Arthur when I was ten and seven and as such I barely knew my little brother.
Guilty. Guilty. Guilty.
The words echoed through my mind and I let out a sudden groan as the pain in my head reached a fever pitch and I nearly doubled over with it.
Then, as soon as it had begun, the pain was gone and my head was clear again.
“That will be quite enough, Morgana,” a familiar voice said from behind me and I whirled to find none other than Merlin standing a few feet away.
He was still dressed in the dark blue tunic that he had worn when marrying Arthur and Guinevere earlier. After the wedding the wizard had disappeared entirely, so I was surprised to find him here now, looking at Morgana with such a hostile expression.
“Merlin,” Morgana purred, straightening as the other man came to join us. “I was wondering when you would darken Arthur’s doorstep again and it seems you have brought a princess with you as well.”
I shifted with surprise at her words. The way she said them made it sound as if she knew that Guinevere was not from our time.
Merlin, however, did not seem perturbed by what she had said at all. Instead, he just offered the woman a slow, knowing smile. “The gods work in mysterious ways, do they not? Tell me, do you fiddle with the minds of all of your family members?”
Morgana’s own smile fell and she turned away from us, hurrying back to her husband who had said nothing since encouraging me to ask Arthur to take Mordred on.
Before she left, she turned to throw one last thing over her shoulder: “The world has moved on without you these past ten years, Merlin, do not forget that.”
Merlin watched with amusement as the pair hurried away before turning to me.
I opened my mouth to ask one of the dozens of questions that were aching to be free but Merlin held up a hand. “Not here, lad.”
He jerked his head in the direction of the grounds outside and I dutifully followed him out into the cool night air until we reached the edge of the tree line, only then did he turn to face me again.
“What did you mean by fiddling with minds?” I asked, the question practically bursting from me as I thought about the way my head had hurt when Morgana was asking me to plead Mordred’s case. I had heard many rumors about Morgana’s magic, but nothing such as that.
“Morgana’s specialty,” Merlin explained dryly, his own green eyes seeming to glow in the darkness like those of a cat. “Though, she hardly even needs magic to manipulate those around her. It seems you proved to be more of a challenge than she had thought you were.”
I frowned, thinking of the way it had felt. “That was magic?”
Merlin shrugged. “Of a sort, not the kind gifted by any of the gods that I follow, but still magic nonetheless.”
“Why does she want the king to take Mordred so badly?” It was rare for Mordred to ever be far from his mother for Morgana was famously protective over her son.
“Why would she not? Come now, Gawain, you seemed much more intelligent in all of my visions of you.” Merlin’s expression shifted as if I already knew the answer and he did not need to explain it further before finally letting out a disgusted sigh of surrender. “Mordred is Arthur’s only living male relative, and while he probably would not consider the boy as such, Mordred is his current heir until he and the new queen are gifted with a child.”
I reeled back away from the wizard, my disbelief likely evident on my face. “But the king has just married, she must know that would soon displace Mordred from inheriting Camelot, so why is she still so… attached ?”
“And therein lies the crux of the issue, does it not? You are already aware that she knows of the machinations of the gods, Gawain, and that Guinevere is not of this time.”
Realization dawned from his words. They meant Guinevere was in danger. My inner alpha seemed to howl at the prospect of it—the scent of her perfume from the first night was a sweet honeysuckle in my mind. I hardly knew the woman, but my instincts were in a near revolt at just the thought of her being targeted by my stepmother.
“We have to do something,” I said, turning to head back into the castle—to do what, I was not certain—but the urge to protect her had filled me so completely that I nearly gave in to the usually alpha side of myself.
“Whoa there, cowboy.” Merlin stopped me with a firm grip on my arm.
I frowned at the strange word, but understood the meaning. “Should we not go and tell the king and queen of this at once?”
“Not right now, lad. I have a feeling that they are otherwise… occupied .” Merlin’s eyes glanced up at the sky and when my gaze followed his I found, much to my surprise, that the stars seemed to be dancing above us..
“What—?” I asked as stars continued to streak across the sky in sparkling multitudes.
Merlin’s smile was soft, if not slightly distant. “They are blessing the fated union.”
Then he looked squarely at me, his expression slackening. “It will be more than just a starfall once all four of you are bonded to the omega out of time.”
His voice was odd as he spoke, as if there were other voices echoed behind it.
Instinctually, I knew that I was not just speaking with Merlin any longer. “Why me?”
Bedivere, I understood completely. There was no better knight or man to be the subject of a herald from the gods. Even Lancelot made some sense as I had never seen someone as good with a sword as the alpha was despite his otherwise glum demeanor.
But I was just the fourth son of a king with too little land to be important. I had been sent off long before I was old enough to leave home—more trouble than I was worth to keep around. While it was true that Arthur and Bedivere had taken pity on me and taken me under their wings and I was blessed as such, it still made no sense for me to be a part of something as important as their fate.
“All will be revealed in time,” Merlin said mysteriously, his voice reverberating off of the nearby trees before he gave himself a shake and blinked hard before offering me an absent-minded smile. “Was I just saying something?”
I stared at him, unsure of whether or not I should tell him about being spoken through by an unseen—I knew I myself would not want to be used as a puppet for the gods.
“No,” I finally said, taking a step back away from the wizard, the hair on my arms rising with the queer nature of the conversation we had just had. “However, I am going to turn in for the night.”
I turned to hurry away from him, but Merlin’s voice made me pause. “The gods would never do something without reason, Gawain, you would do well to remember that.”
I said nothing and hurried back towards the castle, the stars still streaking through the sky overhead as the gods seemed to be continuing their celebrations of a union that had nothing and everything to do with me.
“I can feel your irritation, my queen,” Arthur told Guinevere the next morning as we all stood in front of the castle, waiting for our company to head out.
Leodegrance had asked him to stay longer, but Arthur was still worried about the movement of the Saxons in the hills. We had been away from home for nearly a month and it would still take us days to get back around the lake and back to the castle that was built into the side of the hill.
“I know you can feel my irritation,” Guinevere shot back, offering her new husband nothing but a brown-eyed glare as she turned away from him with a swish of her green skirts. “I can feel yours too because someone decided to gnaw on me without my permission last night.”
I pretended as if I could not hear them as they continued and the rest of the onlookers witnessing their quarrel did the same.
My horse, Breac, lipped at my hair. The animal was clearly happy to see me after his extended stay in Cameliard’s stables and I could not help but give the speckled horse a scratch under his chin as the king and queen continued to argue.
“You knew we were sealing our union, Guinevere,” Arthur said, clearly confused by her anger.
“Yes and by sealing I thought you just meant—” she lowered her voice to say something to Arthur before continuing in a way that I could hear again, “not a bond .”
“That is what sealing the union between an alpha and omega entails, little queen,” Arthur murmured softly, reaching for her hand only for her to yank it away from him.
Every person watching studiously turned away back to their own tasks as Arthur let out a growl of frustration. “It seems as if you need time to… acclimate to our marriage. Very well, you may ride with Gawain today.”
With that, Arthur turned on his heel and stomped off to get on Llamrei, the great stallion pawing at the gravel beneath his hooves, eager to get on with the promise of a ride.
Guinevere stood by herself amongst the hustle and bustle until Leodegrance came to give her one last embrace.
“Be patient, daughter,” I heard him say to her, cupping her still frowning face in his hands. “You will be a great queen.”
Despite knowing that Guinevere’s place as the man’s daughter was of magical origin, even I could see that the two had seemed to bond over the past week because Guinevere’s shoulders sank slightly as she nodded and said something softly back.
After a few minutes, I heard Leodegrance call my name.
“You will take care of my daughter?” Leodegrance asked as soon as I had joined them, his hand capping my shoulder roughly.
I had avoided looking my new queen in the eyes ever since that first night, likely scared at what I would find in her expression, but the same scent of sweet flowers still seemed to surround her like a cloud. It made my mouth water as I finally glanced up to look her in the face for the first time.
“Hello, your majesty,” I told her with a bow, “My name is Gawain and I will be at your service today.”