Chapter Twenty-Seven
“ Y our majesty, why have you come to my forge?” Bedivere asked as he took the large metal tongs I had been fiddling with out of my hands.
“I was curious about how you use the forge with one hand,” I told him, which wasn’t a complete lie. Several of the knights had shown me their swords which had been formed by the alpha and how intricate the metal designs on the hilts were. It would be hard for someone with two hands to accomplish such a thing, but apparently Bedivere did it with just one.
The alpha, who had previously switched off bodyguard shifts with Gawain, was now the one avoiding me rather than Lancelot.
It seemed it was my lot in life that, when one alpha seemed to be warming up to me, the other must grow cold.
Lancelot and I had come to a tenuous peace once he realized I wasn’t going to skin his little sister alive—no, it had only taken a few days of her assisting me in the morning for him to understand that I meant her no harm.
Hell, I even liked the girl. She was young and well-read with a surprisingly mischievous streak. Andrivete couldn’t stand what she referred to as ‘the youthful energy’ in the room even though she was only a few years older than I was.
Sure, I now had to get dressed in the room next door because, as happy as I was to have someone younger to chat with, just the thought of Vivienne being in the same room as my nest made my skin itch. Never before had I been so territorial over my space—even Trini had been able to sit on my nest when she came to visit my flat in modern-day London.
But the irritation seemed almost inevitable, as if I couldn’t control it despite my best efforts. So we moved all of my clothing into the room next door and she assisted me there with my dresses which were growing increasingly more complicated by the day.
Andrivete and Vivienne seemed to relish decorating my body and hair every day before sending me off to do my daily duties.
Now I was grateful for their insistence to dress me in a delicate lilac colored dress today because, despite his words which were meant to push me away, Bedivere’s silver eyes still took in my form with a hunger that sent little shockwaves of excitement through me.
“I can show you the cleaner part of my workshop, your highness,” the man said with a sigh as he put the tongs down and ran his fingers through his silver-streaked hair. “But you will get your dress dirty in here.”
“Teach me how to work the metal,” I requested, ignoring his words.
The request had worked on Lancelot before, though my prowess with a bow and arrow left much to be desired. I could at the very least hit the hay bale at this point.
Even this morning when I had done so, the twinkle of pride in Lancelot’s eyes had been worth every single blister on my hands from pulling back that damned bowstring.
Now I was hoping my request would help me get to know Bedivere better.
He was the most mysterious of the alphas who were meant to be mine and I found myself searching for him during every mealtime to see if he was looking for me just as much.
But, instead, he had been avoiding meals altogether ever since the day that Morgana had been banished from the castle and I was pretty sure it had something to do with Gawain’s bond mark on my chest.
When I woke up the next morning curled in Arthur’s arms I had been afraid he would be angry with me, but instead he’d kissed my worries away and made love to me all morning until Kay practically dragged him from our chambers to get to work.
Nothing had changed in our relationship except for my scent. Arthur had told me that every time I accepted another alpha my scent would change slightly—not enough for anyone who wasn’t actively looking for it—but it would be enough for potential mates to err on the side of caution when approaching me.
Just as Bedivere was doing now.
“Your majesty,” Bedivere said, exasperated as he looked down at me. “This is not the same as your classes with Sir Lancelot—the risk of you harming yourself is much higher than that.”
“Shooting sharp, pointy arrows is less dangerous than making metal?” I put my hands on my hips, my brows lifting as I stared back.
“A forge is very, very hot, your highness,” Bedivere reminded me as if I was a child. “You could get burnt.”
“Not if you tell me how not to,” I pointed out stubbornly. “Why won’t you teach me?”
There was an underlying question in my words that made him stiffen. It was the question I had wanted to ask ever since he stopped showing up to accompany me throughout my daily life. His steady, comforting presence was something I hadn’t known I’d miss so much until it was gone.
Why are you avoiding me?
I wanted to ask that out loud, but I was afraid he would shut me down.
“There are many other things for you to be doing, your majesty,” Bedivere said, his tone placating.
It grated on my nerves.
Frustrated, I turned to look at the workshop to look for something, anything that I could do.
“I’ll help you collect your tools—no heat necessary!” I chirped with false cheerfulness as I skirted around Bedivere’s bulk and reached for a strip of metal that was sitting on the workbench.
And that was precisely where I fucked everything up.
Metal sliced through my fingers making me yelp with pain as I dropped it, sending it clattering to the stone floor underfoot as I crouched into a ball and held my hand to my chest.
“Your majesty!” Bedivere’s voice held more emotion than I’d ever heard as I focused on my throbbing hand.
The sound of his boots approaching and crunching on stray pieces of straw filled my ears as he crouched down in front of me. “Let me see it.”
I ignored him, afraid to be scolded for something he had explicitly warned me not to do.
“Let me see,” he repeated, more softly this time.
I shook my head.
There was a heavy sigh, before his hand gripped my shoulder lightly. “Guinevere, please let me see your hand so that I may take care of it.”
With a little whimper, I held my bleeding hand out to him.
Bedivere’s silver eyes took in the wound for a moment before he reached out and scooped me up into the crook of his good arm.
“I can walk!” I protested as he carried me through the workshop.
“Hush,” was all he said as we ascended a short set of steps and entered into what looked like a bedroom.
I hadn’t realized before where the alpha actually slept. Most of the knights either slept in rooms in the castle or in the barracks that were situated on the side of it—but Bedivere’s workshop was just outside of the castle gates.
It was almost as if he was separating himself from the rest of the knights of the round table.
Gawain and Arthur hadn’t told me much about Bedivere’s injury, but Arthur always looked sad when he spoke about the alpha who now served as one of his closest advisors… even if he couldn’t fight next to him in battle any longer.
Bedivere deposited me on one of the comfortable looking chairs that faced the fireplace that was just barely lit as he rifled through a wooden trunk at the foot of his bed, pulling things out and sticking them in a small basket.
I watched him silently, observing the way the dim light played on the planes of his jaw and lit up his broad nose as he focused intently on what he was doing.
Eventually he turned and slipped the baskets over the forearm that was missing a hand before using the other arm to help himself stand. He faced me, his face still a mask of neutrality as he knelt in front of me and began to treat the cut.
“It is shallow,” he said as he wiped it down with a honey soaked cloth. “So it will not need to be stitched.”
Shame filled my gut. “I’m sorry, I just wanted to help.”
“It is not for someone like you to do, your majesty,” Bedivere told me softly, reverting back to the more formal way of referring to me.
Despite my pain earlier, his use of my name had made my insides flush with warmth. The gruff way it had rolled off his tongue was better than anything I could have ever imagined.
“Call me Guinevere, please,” I pleaded, reaching out to stop his hand as he prepared bandages.
Bedivere’s shoulders sank as he avoided my gaze. “I cannot.”
“Why?” I asked, my question loaded with more than just asking him to call me by my name.
That was the impetus of it all. After coming to terms with the fact that I had been pulled into the past to be a part of a pack—even though I had never considered being a part of one before—I had never considered what it would feel like to be rejected by said fated mates.
Bedivere liked me and was kind to me, but he kept a firm wall between us, one that had only grown since Gawain and I slept together for the first time and bonded.
“Your majesty, hold this here,” Bedivere said as he handed me the end of the bandage. I did as he asked, pressing the end of the bandage into my palm and watched as he slowly, painstakingly wound the bandage around my hand. He had to stop several times for me to move my hand so he could continue wrapping. “Now hold this so I can knot it.”
Once he was finished, he held my hand up for both of us to see. “This is why I cannot possibly become your alpha, your majesty, not because you are not beautiful and not because I do not want you, but because I cannot even bandage your hand on my own. An alpha is meant to protect their omegas—and I cannot even protect myself as I am now.”
My heart hurt for him as I watched him glance down at the empty sleeve.
“Is that why you live out here instead of in the castle with everyone else?”
Bedivere shrugged. “I am no longer an active knight. There is no reason for me to stay within the castle’s walls when I am not able to defend it.”
“That’s stupid,” I told him, my words harsh enough to make his dark brows rise with surprise. “You are still just as much a knight as you were before you lost your hand and anyone who tells you differently will have to deal with me.”
In spite of himself, Bedivere’s lips twitched up into a grin. “And how will you protect me, my queen?”
“I’ll drown them,” I said simply, though I wasn’t sure if I was even capable of doing such a thing on purpose.
This time Bedivere laughed a thick, gravely laugh. I wanted to bask in the sound of it and let it roll over my skin.
Then, without thinking, I leaned forward and pressed my lips to his.
Bedivere froze—the same way Gawain had when I kissed him in his room—but instead of melting into the kiss as Gawain had he remained frozen, his hand still gently gripping mine.
“Your majesty…” Bedivere pulled away, his face falling despite the desire evident in his eyes.
“I’m sorry,” I blurted and stood up, not wanting to hear the man’s soft rejection and nearly knocking him over in the process. “I have my lesson with Merlin, so I have to go. Immediately.”
Turning, I fled from the room like the coward I was, my lips still tingling from such a bitter kiss.
“Why are you in such a mood?” Merlin asked as he watched me try and fail to keep the ball of water I conjured up high in the air. Instead, it sloshed to the floor, wetting the hem of my dress as I let out a frustrated growl.
I did not want to explain to Merlin that I had just failed to shoot my shot with Bedivere in such a spectacular way, and Merlin for his part, had ignored my bandaged hand with the same deference.
That did not, however, keep him from asking me ridiculous questions as I became ever more irritated with my inability to control my magic.
“I am not in a mood,” I grumbled as I lifted my hands and pulled the water from the stone floor again.
It wobbled precariously in the air but still managed to stay afloat.
“Clearly,” Merlin commented dryly as he circled around me so that I could see his face. “Try forming a shape—any shape.”
Gritting my teeth, I imagined a heart taking shape in the glob of water floating before me.
In the end it was a bit lopsided and more butt-looking than heart-looking, but I was still pleased nonetheless.
At least I could do this.
“Now will you tell me what is really wrong with you?” Merlin asked, suddenly next to my elbow.
With a sigh, I channeled the water so it fell neatly back into the bucket I had originally pulled it out of.
“It’s Bedivere,” I finally admitted.
Merlin’s brows rose before he nodded. “Ah.”
“ Ah is right,” I mumbled, turning away from the wizard to throw myself onto the settee that I was pretty sure served at Merlin’s actual bed. “When you pulled me into this time you forgot to mention how damned hard it would be to actually get them to like me.”
“I told you that you were fated mates, not that it would be easy,” Merlin pointed out as he perched next to me. As always, the wizard smelled of nothing except for the scents from his rectory that clung to his tunic and oversized blue robe.
Every living human on the planet smelled of something whether they were betas, alphas, or omegas. It didn’t matter what designation you were, you had a scent. It was like someone’s fingerprint—unique only to them.
But Merlin had none of that which was confusing on a whole other level.
“Then you should have picked an omega that flirts better than me,” I said with a shake of my head, trying to chase away the sad look on Bedivere’s face that seemed to be seared into my memory. “Anyway, let’s not dwell on it anymore and finish our lesson.”
Merlin looked as if he wanted to say something else, his ethereal green eyes full of concern, but then he nodded and held his hands out to me.
This had quickly become my favorite part of our training because as soon as our hands connected and our eyes closed, we were no longer in the rectory but somewhere in the recesses of Merlin’s mind.
“Where are we today?” I asked as I stared out at the softly glowing underground lake in front of us.
“It is my favorite place to go when I meditate,” Merlin told me from where he stood on top of the water, proving yet again that human physics did not exist in this magical place.
He reached for my hand, his fingers sliding through mine, and tugged me out onto the water with him. It felt just as real as if he’d done it in the real world, but here it felt even better.
Our magic danced between our clasped hands, sparkles of green and blue erupting from where we touched.
It was… intense. Like a headrush and jolt of adrenaline all at once.
My heartbeat quickened and I was sure he could feel it. I just wondered if Merlin also felt this good when he touched me.
The mysterious wizard had somehow become my closest friend and confidant ever since I’d arrived to this timeline—and this point of our lessons had quickly become my favorite part.
“Sit,” Merlin directed once we’d made it to a moss covered island in the middle of the lake.
I settled down cross legged in front of him, settling the white silk robes that I wore around my legs. They were the same ones that I always wore when we travelled into his mind.
“Find your core,” Merlin began, speaking the same words he always did.
Weeks ago when we first began these lessons, I couldn’t even tap into my magic enough to even come to a place like this, but now I could easily reach within myself and find that kernel of magic that allowed me to control water.
I could also feel Merlin’s magic and it rose up to meet me like an excited puppy, dancing around us with glee despite Merlin’s neutral expression.
“Now work on growing that core. The more you are able to grow it—”
“The more I will be able to do,” I finished for him, shooting him a cheeky grin as I imagined my core growing three sizes like the heart of Grinch in How the Grinch Stole Christmas .
I’d tried to explain the movie to Merlin once but he kept asking clarifying questions so I was pretty sure he didn’t get the metaphor for capitalism… or what capitalism was in the first place. Must be nice.
Either way, my core still grew bit by bit—not largely or very fast—but it had doubled in size ever since we began our lessons.
Now, when Merlin drew the knife down his arm to try and test me, I was able to heal the cut with relative ease. I wasn’t sure if I’d be able to do anything to a bigger wound, but it was reassuring.
My plan to change the future was going about as well as it could for someone who didn’t know when or where the penultimate battle would take place, but I had a feeling Morgana’s banishment from Camelot would have something to do with it.
In some iterations of the legend, Morgana had sold Arthur out to the Saxons in favor of her own son, and while I wasn’t completely sure how she would do it, I knew that whatever was coming in the future would definitely have her hand in it.
“You are not focusing,” Merlin told me cheerfully, cutting through my mid-evil-plot-foiling thoughts. “You must focus if you wish to grow your magical prowess, Gwen.”
“Hasn’t it grown enough for the day?” I asked with a sigh as I stared down at our joined hands which still glowed with our combined power. “Why don’t we focus on your power today?”
Merlin had explained how his own magical core seemed to be losing magic at a much faster rate than he could produce it—like it was some kind of a cracked hourglass.
I’d felt it myself the day that he had healed Arthur. The drain had made my own knees shake, so I couldn’t imagine what he felt like.
“I do not think there is anything we can do about my power,” Merlin said, frowning.
“Why not?” I pushed, wanting a straight answer from the mysterious wizard for once. It seemed as if I could always rant about my problems, but Merlin never did the same for his own.
Merlin sighed, releasing our joined hands and I felt the loss immediately as the warmth from our magic dissipated. “One thing you will learn about magic, Gwen, is that sometimes it comes with sacrifice.”
“Are you about to say with great power comes great responsibility? Because I’m pretty sure that’s trademarked,” I told him, watching as he frowned at my poorly executed Spiderman joke. It probably would have helped if he knew what Spiderman was but I was pretty sure that none of the omegas who he’d pulled through time put Peter Parker high on their list of must-have experiences. What a bummer.
“It does come with much responsibility and I knew that when I began pulling omegas from their own times.”
“So you’re saying it can’t be fixed? But that doesn’t make any sense! When we touch you’re able to do more magic at least,” I pointed out, thinking of the times when he’d siphoned my magic to do spells to strengthen the barriers around the castle and surrounding village.
“Yes, but that magic fades all too quickly.”
Somewhere, deep in my mind, an idea began to form. We’d only ever touched hands before… but what if we did more than that?
The thought may have come from a desperate need to be accepted after being rejected so soundly by Bedivere earlier—but even I could admit to myself that I’d been attracted to Merlin from the moment that our magic touched the day we healed Arthur together.
It just felt so right to be around the man even if he wasn’t necessarily human.
“What if…” I trailed off, too nervous to actually ask.
“What if what?” Merlin pressed, curiosity clear on his face.
My own face felt flushed and warm. “It might be stupid, and reckless, and altogether not a good idea.”
“Tell me,” Merlin insisted, reaching for my hands again. The zing of magic and the tingle of pleasure the contact brought spurred me on.
“Well, if holding hands feels like this,” I said, lifting our joined fingers. “I have to wonder what it would be like if we did more—surely more magic would be exchanged.”
Merlin’s brows shot up with surprise, his eyes widening.
My stomach dropped.
“Never mind, forget I said anything at all,” I said, pulling away from him and shaking myself out of the dreamscape we’d been sitting in.
Merlin’s rectory felt much too bright now, the sunlight streaming in from overhead and making me feel dizzy as I stood up abruptly.
“Gwen,” Merlin called, trying to stop me as I hurried for the door. “I didn’t realize—”
“No, don’t even go there,” I said, cutting him off. “Obviously I was right and even suggesting that was a bad idea. Sorry. I think I’m just having a weird day.”
With that I turned and slipped out of the thick door to find Gawain waiting for me.
“Gwen, are you well?” he asked as soon as he got a good look at my face. I felt him tug on his end of the bond. I had closed it off completely earlier after my first rejection of the day from Bedivere and now I could feel the alpha’s concern as he gave it another tug.
With a sigh, I let him in to feel all of the embarrassment that was currently souring my stomach.
“Oh my,” Gawain said, his blue eyes wide.
“Oh my is right,” I grumbled as I hurried down the long winding stairs faster than normal, not caring if I took a tumble down them.
I ignored all of the people in the castle that were greeting me, barely paying them any attention as we passed them by.
Finally, I reached the doors of Arthur’s study and he was already opening them before I could knock, probably feeling my discontent through the bond.
“Little queen?” Arthur asked, his voice full of concern.
I threw my arms around his neck, melting with relief when his strong arms wrapped around my back.
A warm hand—Gawain’s—pressed between my shoulder blades, reminding me that, at the very least, I had them to fall back on even when I had failed so miserably at everything else.