AN:

I have missed you all! I am extremely excited to post this and I hope that it has been worth the wait.

Thanks to Guardian Izz for beta-ing. :)

Enjoy!

P.S...elegantpaws provided the inspiration for the pillion.

Disclaimer: The BBC owns "Merlin".

Gwen slowly felt herself awaken.

The young woman closed her eyes tightly, keeping from opening them to greet the day.

Her thoughts still disarranged after the heavy sleep, and the unfamiliar surroundings coming into her view when she finally took a sneak peek, did nothing to take away the drowsiness. As she tried to shift her legs, her thoughts felt hollow and empty, yet her mind instantly filled in the questions: Why was she so tired? Why was she so sore?

Shifting slightly she felt something completely foreign to her till this moment in her life – a body of another lying next to her, with no barriers to separate their flesh. She could not tell which leg was hers and which finger she could move without stirring the warm hard body next to her.

She looked up, and was momentarily blinded by the sun's reflection upon golden disarray of short thick hair.

Cautiously she shifted up onto her elbows to gaze at the slumbering man beside her. Her husband.

Arthur looked remarkably different while he slept. Without the somewhat hardened look he carried about at times, she could now see glimpses of the boy she had known as a child. Back in the uncomplicated past the prince had yet to witness the executions of hundreds with magic, see the queen buried. Naïve and full of hope, he dreamed of becoming a knight of Camelot and making his father proud; that was before he did become a knight and hundreds of men were struck by his sword.

Still somewhat dazed she didn't notice herself sigh. Being this close to him, it took her breath away…

He was beautiful.

Arthur must have felt her gaze upon him, even in his sleep, as he too slowly began to open his eyes. For a moment surprise registered in his blue eyes before turning into something akin to content.

"Hello," he whispered, reaching out a hand to brush back some of her curls, which had fallen over her shoulder unchecked.

She gave him a shy smile in response, averting her eyes.

It seemed, in the light of day, that she had become more embarrassed than the previous night.

He chuckled lightly, tipping up her chin gently so that their eyes met.

"Are you feeling alright?" he questioned, still keeping his tone low. She tried to discreetly check her limbs for any damage but just found that she was sore in her lower region. She knew that, unfortunately, she would be unable to sit a horse for the next few days.

"Yes," she responded, allowing her head to recline upon the pillows once more.

He gently took her hand, pressing a kiss to her knuckles before rubbing it.

Their eyes met at the moment, each taking in one another. He slowly moved closer to her and she found herself tilting her head to better accommodate his intentions. The morning light and everything around them froze when his lips pressed to hers. Hesitantly she pushed back on his lips, gathering some of her courage to respond to him. Evidently she had done the right thing as his hand moved to cup her face, drawing her closer still. She felt her pulse pick up, beating a hurried pattern against her ribs. A shiver ran through her and she couldn't breathe.

'thud, thud'

Gwen broke away from him, letting out a surprised gasp at the sound. Having heard the noise she pulled away from him, smoothing her wrinkled nightdress as she gathered her wits about her.

Arthur mumbled a curse under his breath as the knocking increased, added now by the sounds of various knights.

He moved to swing his legs out of the bed hurriedly, nearly tripping over himself in his haste. Holding onto the bedpost in order to right himself the prince reached for his discarded trousers.

Guinevere kept her eyes on the coverlet, unwilling to lift them to know that he was in the middle of dressing.

"I will be with you in time for breakfast," he told her after pulling on his boots. He haltered hesitantly and flashed her an apologetic grin before exiting their bedchamber into his sitting room. From beyond the chamber door she could hear his muffled words. He was greeted by a mixed response of laughter and cheers.

Gwen felt her face grow red as she allowed her head to hit the pillows.

The young woman jumped once more as the door from her sitting room opened, allowing in Batilda and her ladies. Her former nurse looked a bit put off, most likely by the traditional greeting of the groom going on in the next room over.

"Come along lamb," she said, approaching the bride.

Instantly her ladies moved to tidy up the room.

Eleanor snuck her what she thought to be discreet glances as she gathered up the prince's discarded clothing all over the floor, as if wondering how it got there and how her lady was still in one piece.

Beatrice stripped the bed of its sheets, separating the blood stained one from the others. She folded it before knocking upon the door leading to Gwen's sitting room, which prompted Jane the chambermaid to open it. A whispered conversation went between the two until Jane took up the soiled sheet, leaving the ladies to their work.

As Gwen had been halfway to her dressing chamber, where Catherine was waiting with a basin of warm water and a rag, she had noticed the whispering.

Furrowing her eyebrows she directed her questioning gaze to Beatrice.

She knew that the sheets were ruined, but why the hushed and hurried conversation?

Seeing her mistress' confusion Beatrice provided an explanation.

"The king wishes for evidence, Your Highness," she said, trying to ignore the embarrassed coloring of the princess' face.

"Ah," was all she managed to get out, ducking into her boudoir to save herself from further embarrassment.

Catherine looked up from where she had been ringing out a now damp rag. She observed the new wife quietly, taking in her rather disheveled look.

"Are you all right, my lady?" she asked, her tone quiet so as not to attract the attention of the other girls flying about the room next-door.

Gwen gave her a small nod, keeping her eyes on the basin of water.

"If I may?"

Her head turned up as Catherine gestured to her collarbone.

Frowning slightly she nodded, allowing the noblewoman to approach her and brush aside her hair.

The woman quickly hid a wince, yet Gwen had caught sight of the grimace before she could hide it.

"What is it?" she asked, trying to keep panic from her tone as she stepped beyond the partition to her vanity. She glanced into the mirror, finding the black-and-bluing spot that had began to form near her neck.

She withheld a moan of disapproval and instead faced back to Catherine, fighting against a blush. "We will just have to arrange my hair to cover it," she suggested, stepping behind the curtain once more to dress.

Batilda shooed the other woman from behind the partition and gently helped her former charge tidy herself up. Gwen refused to meet her gaze throughout the cleaning, not knowing what the woman thought of the traces of dried blood and the remains of him mixed with it on the inside of her thighs.

She tried not to move her hips too much as she was being dressed, knowing that with more movement she would feel the tenderness in her lower regions. Was it supposed to ache? She wanted to ask but found herself much to timid to raise the question.

Batilda helped her into a gown of purple silk with silver embroidery up the bodice and sleeves. The material formed bell sleeves that nearly trailed upon the floor when she took a step.

After being dressed Beatrice brushed out her hair before Eleanor placed the diamond necklace that the king had given her for her betrothal around her neck. The chain did little to hide her bruises, yet if she remembered to keep her hair a certain way she didn't think anyone would notice.

As the ladies finished her cosmetics, Jane knocked upon her door, alerting her that Arthur had returned and wished to join her for breakfast in his rooms.

For a moment Gwen wondered if he knew that his father had requested their sheets.

Would he be embarrassed to know that the man wished to see something so intimate?

Probably not, by the relaxed behavior he had shown the night before.

Nodding in thanks to her ladies she slipped through the door leading to Arthur's sitting room, noticing that he too had changed into his day clothing. She dropped his gaze in embarrassment, her doe eyes meeting his blue for no longer than a second.

How did they go back to being friends after last night?

0o0o0

Things had gone better than he had expected.

For starters she hadn't simply refused the marriage act, nor had she done anything to stop him. Naturally, she had been timid, but at least she hadn't lain entirely stiff beneath him. Nervous, but not hostile to his touch; he remembered the smooth leg hooked about his waist pulling him closer.

But it seemed, without the sanctuary of darkness and spiced wine in her system she reverted back to her timid humble ways.

He had hoped that she had gotten past at least some of her shyness around him, now that he had seen all there was covered beneath layers of clothing. Well, not everything. Her supple bosom had alluded him, the part of her anatomy that tempted him so.

The week before his wedding, when his father had just begun to walk about once more, he and the king had had a rather awkward talk. His father must have been in one of his ever-increasing nostalgic moods as he reminisced his own wedding. But the conversation had turned, then, to what the king expected of his son regarding his new wife.

An heir was required, that went without saying. Multiple if they could manage it. Arthur knew he wouldn't have any trouble getting his new wife with child. At least he assumed that there shouldn't be any difficulties, considering the frequency he meant to lay with her.

And then his father had spoken of the actual wedding night.

He had tried to appear mature, truly. Yet a telltale blush had stained his cheeks throughout the entire conversation. It was simply something that one did not talk to their father, the King, about, especially as the woman in question was his ward.

Yet, if he had to admit, the man did provide him with some useful information.

Not stripping Gwen completely bare had been one good pointer. He had only had relations with women who were no novices to the act before, and had found it difficult adjusting his pace suitable for someone so innocent as his new wife. It appeared that leaving her breasts covered had helped her somewhat, even though she hadn't protested when he had touched them beneath the fabric.

But she had to realize they couldn't stay like that forever, didn't she? She had to know that the barriers would be discarded, surely…

He had been rather pleased with how things had gone, however. He hadn't wished to push her too hard as he knew it would be rather uncomfortable for her. The only downfall to the night was that it had been a wasted chance at her becoming pregnant. It was common knowledge that the only way for a woman to become with child was if both partners reached completion. It was simple anatomy.

He had seen the beginnings of it in her eyes the previous evening, a bit of a dawning in them that she had felt something. Yet he hadn't wished to push her over the edge entirely as she had been hurting enough without him adding more soreness to her limbs. There would be time for him to show her how enjoyable it could be.

He held out his hand to her which, thankfully, she accepted. Gently he guided her into one of the chairs at the empty table, taking his own seat after her. He watched for any reaction from her as she carefully unfolded her linen napkin yet found that she was well guarded this morning.

No "Well Arthur, that had been pleasant", or "When are we doing that again?"

Frankly, he hadn't expected it either.

Silence fell between the two as Merlin entered, balancing two plates in his hands. Remarkably he managed to carry them both to the table without spilling or breaking anything. Arthur had to grudgingly admit that the buffoon had learnt quite a lot and has become somewhat acceptable since he had come into his service.

Watching as his wife greeted the servant with a small smile, Arthur felt a rather sharp pang of jealousy run through him. Guinevere would smile at Merlin, yet she wouldn't even look at him? Her husband?

He felt uneasy at such strong unreasonable possessiveness, and as soon as the manservant left, Arthur broke into conversation.

"I was thinking, perhaps in a few days, we could go for a ride together. Just the two of us."

She perked up for a moment, her doe eyes lifting from her plate.

It wasn't often that she was allowed to go anywhere unguarded. Not only because of her position, but also due to her sex. Yet if Arthur went accompanied her, she would need no further guard. Her husband was both protector and chaperone in one.

"We were gifted a new saddle by Lord and Lady Barkley, with a pillion pad. Have you ever ridden pillion before?"

Her dark brows furrowed for a moment as she paused in her quest to gain her goblet.

"No," she answered, shaking her head, "but I have seen others ride."

It was an extremely intimate way of riding as the female, sitting on an additional pad behind the saddle, had to hold onto the rider's middle in order to stay upright.

"I was thinking that, once you've become accustomed to it, we might ride together as such when we go on Progress," he commented, trying to make it seem like an offhand comment. He didn't want to her to see how heartily he wished she would ride with him, allowing them to be so close. He knew better than to scare her off with such passionate thoughts.

He watched as she nodded, gracing him with a small smile.

"I would like that," she replied, causing him to keep his expression in check.

If only she knew that a simple smile from her could turn him into an excitable squire.

A 'thud' from the next room over, followed by his manservant's muffled curses, caused her to turn in her chair to observe the door.

"What was that?" she questioned, half standing as the noises increased.

Arthur sighed, mentally reconsidering his earlier praise of his manservant. "Your present," he replied, standing and beckoning her toward the door of their bedchamber.

It was common the day after a wedding for a groom to gift his wife a piece of furniture. It was a somewhat crude 'thank you' for her maidenhead.

He shouldered open the door, allowing her to see Merlin slide the piece into place. The manservant stood, wincing as he glared at the offensive bench.

Arthur turned to see Gwen's expression, only to see her hide a giggle at the idiot's antics.

"Did you hurt yourself, Merlin?" she questioned, suddenly serious as she watched him wince.

"Not at all my lady," he insisted, yet his expression told a different story. Arthur resisted the urge to roll his eyes as the young man played up his 'injury' for his wife. If the boy had been smart enough to ask for assistance instead of attempting to slide the long bench across the floor on his own...

His train of thought shifted as he watched Guinevere approach the piece of furniture, seeing her run her delicate hand over the back of the bench.

It was a rather long bench that fit underneath the double windows overlooking the courtyard. The pillows, outfitted in red silk, lined the length of the wood.

"I thought it would be, er, beneficial. I mean, for you to outlook over the courtyard."

She turned back to look at him.

"It is lovely," she said, sitting carefully upon it. Hesitantly she patted the spot beside her, prompting him to follow her command.

Merlin quietly left the room.

Turning towards him she smiled slightly, perhaps the first genuine smile she had given him that day: "Thank you."

He tried not to let show how much her enjoyment of his gift made him feel. Yet the effect his young bride had on him was clear to everyone but the lady in question.

0o0o0

"How was it?"

Gwen glanced up from her embroidery to the Queen of Gore sitting across from her, noticing that some of the woman's color had returned to her cheeks. The queen of Gore nursed a goblet of asses' milk, suggested by Batilda to aid her growing child, looking at her friend slyly beneath her lashes.

As far as she knew not even Uther knew of his daughter's pregnancy. Gwen had carefully questioned her friend about it and had found out that she had yet to tell Ursien himself.

Gwen tried to appear as if the question did not bother her, "It was..." She trailed off, shrugging her shoulders in an un-ladylike manner.

Morgana barely stifled a laugh as she set down her goblet, picking up her own discarded embroidery.

"Well, you are still alive, aren't you? My brother has not changed you beyond recognition."

"Oh shush," Gwen insisted, yet she found herself failing at hiding a smile.

Seeing her friend hide her giggle behind her embroidery hoop, reminded her of the old Morgana, the girl that she had grown up with.

If Gwen had to be the butt of her jokes then she would gladly allow it, just for her friend to have some gaiety in her life once more.

0o0o0

For the first time in quite a while Uther had all three of his children gathered at his table. Guinevere, who had always been practically a daughter to him, was now truly a member of the family by law and state.

How they had changed!

What would Igraine think, to see the three sitting there?

Would she comment on how brave Arthur turned out to be, leading Camelot's army into victory whenever needed? On how beautiful Morgana had become – a queen with her own lands to rule? Or on how Guinevere, their humble little ward, had grown into a lovely and graceful young woman - one day to bare Igraine's own crown?

He reluctantly jarred himself from his memories as the meal was served. He noticed, throughout the chatter, that his daughter barely touched any of the food on her plate. If anything she was moving it around; a trick of her childhood.

He kept silent mostly throughout the meal, still feeling the effects of that damned poison from time to time. More than once since he had been allowed out of bed he simply wished to sleep the days away once more. But he couldn't, not with the people knowing of his condition. That was why he was pushing himself to follow along on the Progress even though the long ride did not appeal to him at all.

Guinevere reached for her goblet after making a remark to Arthur, her curls slipping from where they had been resting against her collarbone at the movement. She seemed to have felt the movement, faltered, and then quickly moved to adjust her hair.

Yet it hadn't been quick enough for Uther to miss the dark spot that adorned her neck.

He withheld a chuckle and instead pretended as if he had been absorbed in his plate.

He knew his son had gone through the act of consummation with his daughter-in-law successfully, as he had seen their sheets, but it was the marks forming on the young woman that proved just how enthusiastically his son had thrown himself into it.

It certainly wasn't just a matter of duty for the prince.

Uther hid a laugh as he sipped at his wine.

Yes. He expected to hear news of a grandchild by autumn.

0o0o0

Gwen fought within herself as the rest of the meal dragged on. She knew, once the plates had been cleared, that she was expected to retire with Arthur to their new, shared compartments. There she would be at the mercy of the man across from her, and his desires. Would he wish to... again, so soon?

She sincerely hoped for the opposite. She had felt pain the previous night, which was to be expected, but she still found herself wincing if she moved a certain way. She knew it wasn't supposed to hurt, as much, the second or third time but by the soreness of her lower half she begged to differ.

Could she outright deny him?

She tried to keep up with the flowing conversation but she found herself too involved in her internal battle. It was a blessing and a curse when Arthur stood up, nodding to his father.

"If you would excuse us, Sire," he began, "but myself and Guinevere will be retiring now."

Uther gave the two a hidden smile, setting down his goblet.

"Goodnight," he said, echoing his words from the previous night.

Gwen swept him a quick curtsey, gave a small smile to Morgana, and took Arthur's extended arm.

She tried to keep her expression guarded as she passed her friend, yet the woman, having known Gwen for too long, noticed the look of apprehension in her eyes. But what could she do? Nothing. Even as Arthur's sister, Morgana could not interfere between a husband and wife.

"It is a shame that Morgana will be leaving tomorrow," he commented as the two began the path leading to their chambers. "I did not realize how much I missed her."

Gwen snuck a peek at the knight beside her. Despite the squabbles he had gotten into with Morgana throughout the years, he truly did love his sister. She wondered if he too missed the simple careless days that the three had spent together in the past.

"Hopefully we will be able to visit in the spring," she commented as they reached the door to his salon first.

He shouldered it open before allowing her to walk in first.

"I think it will have to be some time after that," he said, pausing outside of the door that led to his own private chamber. It seemed almost useless for him to have it, in her opinion. Why, she needed the room for her voluminous gowns, her vanity table, her jewelry. His vests, tunics, and breeches couldn't take up that much space.

He didn't give her a chance to question his words, adding: "I should hope that you will be with child by then. The trip at that stage will be too much for you."

Her mouth fell slightly open as if she was to comment but instead she quickly shut it.

"Of course," she muttered, glancing away.

Married for a day and already children were at the forefront of their minds.

"I best prepare for bed," she said, ducking out the door that led to their bedchamber. He watched her go for a moment, wondering if he had said something wrong, before calling for Merlin, late as always, to fetch a sleeping tunic.

Gwen, meanwhile, went about preparing for bed as slowly as she could.

She pointedly made an effort to speak to her ladies once she entered her boudoir, listening to them gossip about the day. She only made a move to slip into her nightdress once Lady Beatrice gave her a rather pointed look.

The prince could not be kept waiting.

After Catherine finished braiding her long hair Gwen found herself looking for some other nightly ritual to finish up. Yet, finding nothing, she steeled herself to re-enter her bedchamber. Arthur, as expected, was already there, nestled beneath the blankets. He waved his hand as the women tried to curtsey, causing them to file out of the room.

With courage she didn't know she had Guinevere climbed into bed beside him. Without giving him a chance to speak she turned to him, her thick braid falling over her shoulder.

"I was thinking, well hoping... If we could perhaps wait-"

"Shh, Gwen."

He held out an arm for her, silently asking for her to move closer.

Taking a deep breath she moved into the confines of his arms, preparing herself for whatever he was to do.

Instead of demanding anything, as she had expected, he simply wrapped his other arm about her.

He stroked her hair as she slowly relaxed against his warm broad chest, finding the position that she had fallen asleep in the previous night.

"I understand," he whispered to her, his hand continuing its pattern over her head, pausing at the nape of her neck.

He held her as she fell asleep, feeling his wife's gratitude in the grip she had about his waist.