She forced the horse to go faster as she raced to Camelot, hoping that she wasn’t too late to save a man’s life.  The trees were a blur to her and all she could think about was getting to Uther Pendragon and making him see the error of his ways.  She would tell him o what she knew, of how nothing but lies had gotten the blacksmith to his current predicament.  She would ask that he be released to whatever family he had and then she would be on her way.  That is if I make it on time.  She thought as she encouraged the horse to go faster.  Ahead she could see where the forest led to a clearing, and as she got closer to her destination she could see the gates that protected the city.  Soon she reached the gates and abandoned her horse as she raced through the lower town. 

Anras removed her hood as she reached a crowd that had gathered to watch what was happening.  Her breath hitched as she began to weave herself through the throngs of people. 

“The blacksmith is as guilty as the day is long.” She heard one man say, while a woman, in turn, defended him. 

Tom Leodengrance’s head lay on the block as Uther read the charges.  Arthur stood behind his father and watched as the blacksmith openly wept. 

“I’m innocent.” He cried, yet it fell on deaf ears as Uther continued to rattle off the trespasses that Tom had to die for. “What of my daughter?”

Uther had finished and his eyes travelled to the hooded man who was lazily leaning on the sword that would remove Tom’s head.  Slowly he righted himself and Tom caught sight of the sword. Bitterly he laughed.  They kill me with my creation.  

“Are there any last words?” Uther asked.

“Tell Guinevere I love her, so much.  And that she’s just like her mother.”

With that Uther nodded to the executioner and his blade came down swiftly upon Tom’s neck.

“NO!” Anras yelled.  She had made it to the front of the crowd just in time to see the blacksmith beheaded.  His blood just as red as Uther’s cloak, just as red as the banners that hung from the castle.  Tears filled her eyes as the crowd began to disperse.  She stood there for a moment and watched as the blacksmith was loaded into a cart as if he was nothing, as if he had been nothing.  Her blood began to boil and she stormed towards the castle.

“I demand an audience with the king.” She gritted through clenched teeth at the men who were standing guard at the throne room.  The one to the right turned on his heel and made his way to the King’s chambers and Anras was left there to wait with the other one.  A few moments passed when Prince Arthur came storming down the corridor, a parchment clutched in his hands.  When Anras saw him her eyes widened as she cut of his path.

“My Lord…” she began as her arm was grabbed by the guard. “…Arthur Pendragon, your family put an innocent man to death today.”  She rushed out as she tried to wrangle herself from his grasp.  “The blacksmith was innocent.  I know it to be true.”  Arthur began to side step her.

“Eddard Stark knows it to be true also.”  This caused Arthur to pause; his back became straight as an arrow when the name Stark tumbled from her lips.

~*~

Morgana Le Fey stood before the only man that she had known as a father and stared coolly into his eyes.  Blue mirroring blue, she was unflinching. 

“I know the extent of your affections for you maid, Morgana.  Believe me I do, but this, what it is that you want me to do, will never happen.  I will not bring shame to the Pendragon name, or throne, for a peasant.”  Uther reasoned harshly.

“That maid has taken care of me for years.  She has wiped your beloved Prince’s feverish brow and rocked me to sleep during the night.  She is a part of this family whether you like it or not.  She is more than a maid; she is like my sister, even more so now that we are both orphans.  Need I remind you that both of our fathers have died by your hand, a commonality that is stronger than blood; it can grow into something dangerous Uther.”

“I am to fear a maid?”

“Not a maid, but the people.  Your iron hand will rust one day and there will be too many who will be eager to remove it from you.”  She steadied her nerves.

“Is that a threat, Morgana?  Choose your next words wisely, I would hate or you to do something foolish all for a maid.”  Her jaw clenched at his words and she bit her cheek to keep the foul words that she wanted to spit at his feet inside.  After a long moment she finally spoke.

“No threat was intended my Lord,” he voice quaked with anger, “I am merely suggesting that a firm hand must also have a kind stroke.  You have shown the people what little tolerance you have for magic, that is perfectly clear.  But now is the time to show Camelot that you also have a heart.  It is impossible to continue to rule those who hate you.  You have shown them strength; now show them your mercy.”

Before Uther could respond to Morgana’s stern words there was a swift knock at his door. 

“Who is it?” he bellowed, contempt laced in his voice.

The guard opened the door and told Uther of the woman awaiting an audience with him.  “Tell her to come back tomorrow, I do not wish to see anyone today.”

“Father, I think you should talk to this woman.” Arthur interrupted, letting everyone know of his presence. “She is the wife of Torrent and sent by Lord Stark.”

“Ned?”  Uther turned to his son.

“Yes father, she has been sent by my Godfather.  She has given me this letter for you.”  Arthur handed the envelope to Uther, the Stark seal on the closure. “It’s from him.”

“Yes, give me a moment to read this and prepare myself for her.  I will meet you in the throne room; see that she is given whatever it is she needs.”  Uther turned from them.

Morgana stood in disbelief. “But she is Torrent’s wife!”

“Sent by Ned Stark!” Uther yelled back, sending a shiver up Morgana’s spine, but she did not relent.

“So you kill a man seen with Torrent for a brief moment, yet you wine and dine a woman that has shared his bed.  Your hypocrisy knows no bounds.”

“Hold your tongue Morgana, or I will be forced to hold it for you.  Your maid will remain as such, a maid.”

“Father…” Arthur interrupted again.

“Yes, Arthur.” Uther answered with inpatients in his voice.

“The letter, her visit… was originally intended for the blacksmith.”  Now it was the time for a shiver to makes its way up Uther’s back.  He turned and looked out the window before he dismissed everyone out of his chambers.  “I will be in the throne room soon.” He told his son as he closed the door.

Now alone, Uther Pendragon went to his desk and sat there looking at the envelope for a long minute.  Would there be something in this letter to let him know that he had killed the Blacksmith in haste.  He hoped not as he opened the letter.

Thomas,

Old friend, I am writing you because Robert should not make it to next Sunday.  He has been injured whilst hunting, of all things and his life here will be ending soon. This letter is to inform you of the importance of your attendance here in the North.  With Robert’s death a new era will be ushered in, one that is full of falsities and would see a boy, a terrible boy, as the King of the seven kingdoms when he has no rightful claim to the iron throne.  You and I both know who it belongs to and it is time that Cersei and the rest of the Lannister clan choke on their ambition.  The child, the Prince Jeoffry is the product of an affair between Cersei and Jamie Lannister, yet the foul blond has his eyes set on ruling the seven kingdoms.  I ask you old friend to come to Westeros but for now leave the girl behind in Camelot.  When you receive this letter take it to Uther himself and ask him to protect her.  She must take her seat on the iron Throne, but her time is not now.  Please old friend, come swiftly.  The Lannisters have already tried to kill my boy because he found out this secret and now that Cersei knows that I have this knowledge I fear what they may do to me.

May the gods bring you safely,

Stark   

Uther paled.  He had killed the blacksmith a mere hour ago and now, all of this had come to light.  His child, the maid, was the heir to the Iron Throne, and now she was without a protector.  Uther sat his desk a while before placing his crown on his head and sending for Arthur, Morgana, and the maid. 

Once everyone had entered the throne room, including Anras, Uther dismissed his guards and council. “This is more of a family matter” he announced, “Therefore your presence is not required.  Please go and enjoy your time off today.”  Uther was no fool; news of the girl’s origins would make it back to the Lannisters faster than he could write to Ned.

With that the only people left in the throne room were Uther, Arthur, Morgana, and the maid.  Uther mentally cursed himself.  She was not just any maid, she was heir to the Iron Throne, the most powerful throne in the seven kingdoms, and here she was with no idea of how important she was.  He then turned his attention to Anras.  “You’ve asked for an audience with me, well, go ahead.”

Anras looked upon the throne that Uther Pendragon sat in all of his smug glory.  “The blacksmith was innocent.” Anras began.  With that Guinevere let out a low moan, she was still so inconsolable, but Morgana was doing her best.  “My husband tricked him, which I told him was a dangerous game.  But he thought that this would be easy and clean.  But here in Camelot, magic is everything but.  My husband kept me abreast of what was happening in Camelot with Tom.  He told the blacksmith that he needed a sword.  That is all Tom was doing.” Anras stopped, she could feel the grief and guilt of getting here to late begin to choke her and he eyes were burning with unshed tears.   “Tom had no idea that Torrent intended to use magic in anyway.  It pains me that I was too late in getting here.”

The sound of Guinevere crying pulled everyone’s attention to her as she began to crumple and landed on the floor.  Hearing that her father was innocent so soon after his death was too much for her to bear and she could no longer care about her actions in the throne room, in front of Uther.  She was fatherless, he was gone too soon, and here she was in a room with his murderer, while he was being told that he had killed a man who was innocent.  Anras rushed to her side and stroked her hair while Morgana held her tightly.  It was moments like these where Gwen hated her kindness, these were the times she wanted to tell them to leave her be, to get their hands off of her, but instead she allowed herself to re cocked and stroked like a child.  Yet she was no longer a child, Uther Pendragon had seen to that an hour ago, with the death of her father.

Uther watched the women and a pain tugged at his heart that he hadn’t felt sine Igraine had died and it startled him.  It would’ve been easy to roll his eyes if this was just dramatics, but there was a gut wrenching pain in the child’s low groans, as if she could bear this grief no more.  “Arthur,” Uther called to his son, who was busy watching the girl. ‘Come here”

Arthur approached the throne, but before he dedicated all his attention to his father, he looked back at the woman he loved once more.  His unshed tears were visible to Uther when he finally turned back to his father.

“Yes, father.”

Uther studied his son for a hard minute.  Finally he told Arthur to have a chamber prepared for Guinevere, as it was to be her new quarters. He then turned his attention back to the girl.

“Guinevere Leodengrance,” he fought for his voice not to crack with emotion under the weight of her stare. “…stand child.” She struggled to her feet with Morgana and Anras rising with her.  “You are welcome into my home and tomorrow morning will be announced my ward.  Arthur has gone to prepare your room.  I am truly sorry for taking your…father from you.  Therefore I will try to give you the world.”

“My Lord?” the words spilled clumsily from Gwen’s mouth; her grief momentarily forgotten by her shock.

Uther caught Morgana’s eyes and saw that she too was shocked; her eyes brimming with tears, love, and admiration.

“When your chambers are prepared a servant will come for you.  For now dear,” Uther rose from his throne and approached Gwen, “why don’t you go to Morgana’s chambers and take a bath.  I’ll send someone up to fill the tub for you.” Uther than did something quite uncharacteristic, he grabbed Gwen rough, calloused hands. “Guinevere, I hope to make up what I’ve taken from you and I hope you can look at me as a father figure in these trying times.  I am deeply sorry for my actions.”

Gwen stood, silent as the king; her sovereign apologized and made her into his ward.  Her mind was swimming with all of the changes that had taken place in the last hour.  She had lost her father and was now a part of the royal household of Camelot.

“Come Gwen; let us wash this day off of you.” Morgana coaxed and grabbed Gwen’s hand.  As the made their way the exit Uther called out again.

“Morgana give her one of your dresses and I’ll have Agatha come and tailor it to her.  Gwen tomorrow we will go into the lower town and buy fabric for you and have your own dresses made for you.”  All Gwen could do is nod in response.

~*~

Gwen and Morgana entered Morgana’s chambers in silence.  Morgana watched as Gwen went to Morgana’s vanity and began to tidy up the brushes and perfumes like she always did.  Morgan instantly went to her and stilled her hand.

“This is no longer your job, Gwen.” She cooed.  Gwen blinked back tears.

“Gwen do you understand what’s happened?” Morgana asked.

Again Gwen just nodded.

“Do you know what this means?” Morgan squeaked with excitement.

“I am Uther Pendragon’s ward.” Gwen answered blandly.

“No Gwen, it means you’re my sister.  How long have we dreamed of being sisters and now it has come?”

“I’m happy that you’re happy Morgana.” Gwen tried to smile.

“Oh Gwen I understand you’re grieving right now, but I hope you come to love us as your family; even the big bad wolf Uther.”

There was a tentative knock on the door.

“Come in.”

Arthur came into Morgana’s chambers sheepishly. “Gwen, your chambers are ready.  I figured you’d enjoy a bath in your own tub, in your own room.”

“I think that’s a good idea.” Morgana said as she reached for a discarded shawl.

“If it’s alright with you morgana, I’d like to walk Gwen to her room; that way I can talk to her in private.”

Morgana paused. “I guess that alright.” She replied as she draped the shawl on her bed post.  “Gwen, I’ll be by later to check on you.”

“Ok” Gwen replied as she was led out into the corridor.

~*~

“Merlin got your room ready in no time.  After your bath, we’ll go to your home and get the things that you want.” Arthur had been talking the whole time, while she remained silent.

Finally Arthur took the hint and he too fell silent.  As they walked on Gwen stopped suddenly.

“Where are we going?” Gwen asked.

“T-to your chambers.” Arthur replied, hoping she hadn’t made the connection.

“Your chambers are this way.  I should know; I’ve cleaned every inch of this castle.”

“Yes, but I want you to be comfortable and the largest vacant room is here.  Plus I figured it would give us the opportunity-“

“Opportunity to what?” she interrupted.

“The opportunity to lean on each other when we need to.” Arthur took a step towards Gwen.  “It gives me the opportunity to sleep next to you, even if it’s in the other room.  Hell Gwen, I never thought you’d be anything but a maid to me.  I want you as near as possible. I love you.”

Gwen deflated a little. “I love you too…show me my chambers.”

It was no mystery that she was a great beauty.  Her skin the color of burnt brass, hair like a raven's feathers, skin like rose petals.  She was petite and full of life. 

It had not been enough for him to have taken their throne; their power.  No he had had to take her as well all those nights ago when the king, her brother, had been killed and their reign had died with him.  Simply put, he had raped her several times before his body could even begin to chill.  Yet it was better her than her sister by law, who had taken Viserys and her swollen belly and escaped.  Yes Gwenhwyach, with her dark mane and skin, would bear the burden of his nightly visits.  She had been called the dark one, for she and her brother hadn't shared the same mother.  Hers was a moor, she was a moor, and now she was being treated as so many moor women had been; as the play thing for men in power.

Her stomach turned again and this worried her.  She had not had her time in four months and was beginning to run out of ways to keep up her denial.  Every night for a month she had prayed that she was not pregnant and that maybe she had lost a woman's gift, but in her heart of hearts she knew that that was the furthest thing from the truth. 

There was a rattle at the dungeon door and she feared he had returned.  Her nerves settled a little when she saw that it was a guard, one that had treated her with the dignity that a princess rightly deserved.

"You are to see the court physician, he is awaiting you." 

Her dark brown eyes caught his and for a second she saw concern dance across his face, but it vanished just as quickly as it appeared.  She stood up; head held high and thrust her hands towards him so that he may unchain her.  Quietly they made their way through the corridors of what had once been her home.  Finally they reached a door that she was so familiar with.  The guard knocked on the door swiftly and then turned to her.

"I'll be out here when you are done." He stated automatically and she just nodded at him.  When the door finally opened there stood Peetar. 

"My dear." The old man greeted her warmly and moved aside so that she could cross the threshold.  He then eyed her for a long minute.  He took in her gaunt appearance.  She was still beautiful, other worldly almost, yet there was something missing.  He then noticed the swell of her midsection and the glow in her brassy skin. "Have you been eating?"

She scoffed, "When they feed me."  Her voice was still strong, still regal.

"Come, sit." He implored, to which she obeyed.

"Now, what's this I hear that you have been sick daily and nightly?  How do you feel child?"  His smile was warm, but forced.

"Peetar-" she stopped.

"Yes?"

"I fear I am with child." The old man nodded.  He had figured as much when she came into his room.

"How long?"

"I haven't had my time in four months.  I fear what they will do to me, to the child, when they find out.  Cersei-"

"Cersei?"  The man's eyebrows disappeared into his hair.  "What does Cersei have to do with this?"

"Peetar, I am unmarried.  Therefore my virtue was still intact before that vile man brought his war upon us.  What do you think Cersei has to do with this?"

"The child is Robert's?"

"He has climbed on top of me more than he has his wife I fear.  Perhaps I am more pleasurable to mount?" she jests with no humor in her voice.

"I am sorry that he has done that."

"Peetar, if I were to be honest, I would say that I understand why they took the kingdom.  My brother was losing his mind and his kindness.  He had begun to rule like a madman." Peetar went to interrupt her, but she cut him off with a hand gesture.

"I say that to say, I wish I had fled with my sister and the children.  Foolishly I thought that I might be able to- oh I don't know what I thought.  I certainly didn't think I would be treated like a whore, Peetar.  He has his way with me nightly, with the smell of mead dripping from his pores.  I fear what he will do when he feels the roundness of my belly, or when his rough hands are too much for my tender breast."

"What do you want to do?" Peetar peered into her eyes looking for the answer.

"I want to have this child and then I want it taken far away from this place.  I want it to never know what this place is."

"But it would be an heir." 

Gwenhwyach eyes flashed in anger.  "My birthright was taken away from me because I am a woman and because of my mother." she held up her hand, "My skin, this child's skin, will be nothing but a burden upon it in a noble house.  I would rather my child be a peasant and live humbly and easy, than for it to be a noble; no have had to endure the snickers and jokes, the glances and insults.  I don't want that for my child." A lone tear travelled down her cheek.  The sizzling of it could be heard in the quiet of the room.

"You have dragon's blood my child.  It pumps through your heart and is one of your strengths.  Your child will be of dragon's blood, just as the child that will be born during the storm carries the blood.  Give me a fortnight and we shall devise a plan where you and your child will have a chance at a life, just give me a fortnight."

The bed beckoned her as she walked around her new room with Arthur and Merlin standing off on the other side of the room.  They were silent and still, for neither knew what to say or do as she slowly took in the things that had been placed there.  Finally she turned to them with wary eyes.

"I'd prefer to go to my home and get some things before I sink into the tub.  I fear once the warm water lulls me that I may be too tired to do anything else but sleep."  She finally announced.

"Of course.  Merlin and I will escort you and then Merlin can draw you another bath when we get back."  Arthur offered.  Gwen turned a sympathetic eye towards Merlin and shook her head.

"We can go tomorrow; I'll take my bath now."

"Why-" Arthur began but was interrupted by Merlin.

"Gwen-" he began softly, "...if you want to go get your things tonight, go get them.  I am more than willing to draw another bath for you tonight." She deserves that and so much more. Merlin thought to himself and smiled at her thoughtfulness.

"Are you sure Merlin?"  She lowered her head.

"Let's go Gwen, you'll need things for your bath that the castle just doesn't have."  Merlin said, extending his arm for her to take, to which she did so and seconds later they were out her door with a slightly jealous Arthur behind them.

The sun had begun its slow decent as they made their way through the lower town; Merlin and Gwen's arms still linked.  The men had long abandoned any efforts to engage her in conversation and they were now all walking in silence.  Word had not gone out yet of Gwen's new status, so to see her being escorted by the Prince and his manservant to her home was a bit of a shock to the townspeople.  Their stares didn't go unnoticed by Gwen and she could feel their sympathy as she was walked through the market.  Her home was the last on the left of the market stretch; she had to endure the piteous looks from all that were still in the market.  John the shoe maker removed his hat and bowed his head to her and it was enough to make her wish she had not come. 

Arthur walked a few steps behind Merlin and Gwen, a station that he wasn't too familiar with.  He was dressed in a relaxed manner; one in which he rarely came to the lower town in.  His sword was situated at his hip acting as his only matter of defense.  Although he still looked noble, his attire resembled nothing of a prince.  He saw it too, the awe and pity that the people were revering them with; revering her with, and he swelled with pride, hoping one day his people would look at him in that manner.  He could discern the love that the people of Camelot had for Gwen; probably because of her being the daughter of the blacksmith.  It was a trade that none could do without, for everyone needed knives and spoons and horseshoes; and he was sure Gwen had been the one to deliver such necessities on her time outside of the castle.  While caught in his thought he had failed to notice Guinevere's abrupt stop and ran into Merlin with a bit of force.  He went to right the man who had stumbled with the impact when he looked over at Gwen.

How could she have not thought of how hard it would be to enter the home that she and her father had shared?  This was a foolish mistake. She thought as she stared at the cruck house, not really seeing it, heart beating in her ears.  His things would be in there.  His bed would be empty and she would be forced to look at it.  His coat would be hanging up for future use, his trousers for laundering. Before she knew it she felt the tingling caress of tears and Merlin's hand on her shoulder. 

"You know you don't have to Gwen."  He comforted.  She turned and offered a weak smile and defiantly wiped her tears.  She then turned back to the home; timidly she walked to the front door and rested her hand on the knob.  Arthur and merlin waited, taking their cue from her.  After what seemed like an hour she opened the door and as the smell of her father assaulted her nose, sulfur and that tobacco, she entered.

Arthur and Merlin entered the home to find her packing diligently.  Gone were the tears, in fact she didn't look like she was thinking at all.  She walked to the table by the side of the bed and grabbed a small brush that Morgana had given her years ago when she got a new on and threw it in her bag. Next were her lavender oil vial and her mother's wedding ring, which had caught Arthur's eye.  It was more intricate than he believed a blacksmith could buy or make.  He was pulled from his musing when she went to where their clothes were.  He watched, with curiosity, as she extracted Tom's tunics and trousers and put them in the bag also.  Merlin had busied himself with grabbing things that he thought she might want.  Gwen began to clean.

After about an hour she approached them and told them she was done.  They walked back to the castle much like how they walked to the home, only this time it was Arthur's arm she clung.  It would be night soon, the loneliest night Gwen would ever know.

They reached the castle and Gwen and Arthur were told that Uther requested to have dinner with them in two hours.  Merlin quickly excused himself and told Gwen he would prepare her bath. 

"Your dress should be ready Gwen." Arthur declared as they made their way to the seamstress.  Morgana had picked the dress, for Gwen couldn't be bothered with such a frivolous act at the time and they had used her back up dress that she kept in Morgana's room for the measurements.   Once they made it to the seamstress Arthur told her he would meet her at her chambers to escort her down to dinner.

As he left she entered the royal seamstress's quarters; the woman sat near the fire finishing up the hem of the dress that Gwen was to wear to dinner.  Abigail's face lit up at the sight of Gwen and the older woman instantly abandoned a pair of trousers.

"Guinevere I am sorry about your father."  She said as she held Gwen's small, calloused hands.  Gwen's face fell but Abigail caught it.  "Let us look at this dress, hmm."

With that the woman disappeared into the back of her workshop just to reemerge seconds later with a deep ruby dress.  Gold embroidery dances down the sleeves and broad neckline.  The dress would be off the shoulders, that much Grew could tell and the full skirt would accentuate the narrowness of her waist.  

"Thank You Abigail." Gwen mumbled as she lowered her head. 

"You're welcome dear.  You go on to your chambers and I'll have Minni bring it to you as soon as I finish this hem."  Abigail said as she ushered Gwen out of the small quarters and into the hallway.

"Ok." Gwen began to make her way down the hall.

"Oh, Gwen, tomorrow after you've gone the market bring the things that you purchase and we can begin to design your dresses."  Abigail called after her.  Gwen turned and nodded and then somberly made her way to her chambers.

~*~

Merlin had drawn her a nice warm bath, it had been her second one in life and the warm water lapped at her skin with every move she made.  He had placed petals from wildflowers she had picked a few days before into the tub and the room smelt heavenly.  It was enough to almost make her forget about the day.  Her relaxation was interrupted with a quick rapping at the door. 

"Come in." Gwen said without opening her eyes or moving from the spot she had settled into in the tub.  She could hear steps behind her but she thought that it was just Minni with the dress. 

Morgana made her way to the tub where Gwen was resting and grabbed the brush that she had brought to her room.  She began to work the brush though Gwen hair, she was rewarded with a deep moan.  Gwen's eyes open but when she saw it was Morgana they closed once again. 

"Dinner will be soon.  You should get dressed."  Morgana advised.

"The dress isn't here yet." Gwen answered, eyes still firmly shut.

"It's on your bed Gwen."

"Oh well I must have sleep though Minni bringing it.  I'll be out in a moment Morgana."

"Ok, I'll be in your bedroom; I'll help you dress when you come out." At once Morgana made her way into the bed chamber to give Gwen some privacy.

Quickly Gwen exited the tub and dried herself with a linen towel that Merlin had left. She then began to put on her undergarments.  Once done she went into her bed chamber, where Morgana was waiting, sitting on her bad.  Gwen quickly threw the garment around her head and brought it down until her shoulders were bare.  Morgana's eyes widened a touch at how beautiful Gwen looked.  The dress was a bit much for dinner for the four of them, but she looked incredible just the same. 

"Ok Gwen, let's get this corset tightened and then we'll tie up the dress."  And they did just that, by the end of it Gwen found it hard to breath.  Before she could voice her discomfort Morgana had disappeared.  She came back a few moments later with oils and hair adornment.  Gwen sat on her bed while Morgana worked on her hair and placed a bit of rouge on her cheeks.  Once she was done she led Gwen to the mirror in the corner of her room.  Guinevere, as she looked at herself in the mirror, decided that it didn't matter that she couldn't breathe because her reflection had stolen her breath.

"Gwen you look beautiful." Morgana gushed as she grabbed Gwen's hand and led her out of her chambers. 

Sir Landon fell in step behind the girls as they made their way to the private dining room.  When the heavy wooden doors were open, Gwen saw that Arthur and Uther were already seated.  Merlin, who stood behind Uther, waiting to refill any goblets, gave Gwen a brilliant smile; it put her at ease.

As she and Morgana approached the table, Uther and Arthur stood; once the women had been seated they resumed their place in their chairs.  Shortly after dinner was served.

Tonight they would feast on the game that Arthur had provided.  The venison was accompanied by potatoes and carrots.  It smelt quite heavenly and Gwen could not help but to breathe the smells in deep.

"Dig in my dear." Uther said and he patted her arm.  She looked up and saw Arthur peering at her curiously.  She offered a small smile which she returned and finally picked up her fork. 

"So-" Uther paused.

"Guinevere." Arthur offered.

"...Guinevere, tomorrow we shall go to the market and get you some fabric.  Maybe you Morgana and I can have a picnic afterward. Hmm." Uther said as he cut into his meat.  Gwen turned her head slightly to look at him out of the corner of her eye.  She studied him, his bright blue eyes, his nose; Arthur's nose.  She tossed him a look of disbelief that Arthur caught.

"Thank You my Lord."

"Oh child, no need for such formalities.  Tomorrow you'll be announced as my ward."  Uther then continued to eat.  But Arthur could see it; the wheels in her head working, the questions she wanted to ask.  He could see her fighting with herself, with her mouth.

"Why?"

Arthur's eyes closed momentarily.  She had lost.

"Why what dear?"

"Why would you make me your ward?  You don't even know my name."  Her eyes gleamed with unshed tears and Uther's face softened.

"Because of that right there."

"What?" she asked exacerbated, she just needed to make sense of all of this.

"That look in your eye.  That... look- You look like the light has been sucked out of you and I did that..."

Arthur and Morgana looked at each other, this was not there father.

"... I want you to be more than happy Guinevere, you've been through so much and you deserve so much." Even if you don't know it.

~*~

Ned Stark sat in his cold cell and mulled over his options, two to be exact.  He could both swallow his pride and pronounce Geoffrey the heir to the Iron Throne; which would spare his life and the life of his family.  Or, he could stand by what he knew and what was right and continue to make it known that Geoffrey was an imposter.  It would be any minute now before they came and got him.  He thought of his children, of his wife, and thought better of trying to fight for a throne that would never be his; to fight for a man's legacy that couldn't fight for it himself. 

His decision was made when the warm sun hit his face and blinded him after so long of being underground.  Geoffrey could have the throne, he could be the king.  All Ned wanted was to go back to Winterfell and be the father that he should have always been.  He was roughly pushed before the growing crowd, his shackles apparent.  Oh how the mighty had fallen indeed. His eyes panned the crowd below him, all with their eyes directed back at him. Their shouts of "Traitor" meant nothing to him in this moment.  His gaze halted at a pair of eyes that were all too familiar, for they looked like his.  Arya, the child who looked the most like him, sat crouched underneath a statue.  He pleaded with his eyes for her to go, but she stayed rooted to the spot that she was at.  Her eyes never wavered from his; neither did her hand waver from the hilt of her sword.  He shook his head eyes pleading that she did nothing stupid.

"I am Eddard Stark; Lord of Winterfell and hand of the King."  He paused, looking to his right, to his daughter, Sansa, who fancied herself a queen.  She nodded for him to continue, he had to continue.  Not only was his life on the line, but he engagement to Geoffrey was also. 

His eyes searched for Arya's again and when he found them he continued, lowering his head in shame. "I come before you to confess my treason, in the sight of gods and men.  I betrayed the faith of my king and the trust of my friend, Robert.  I swore to protect and defend his- children.  But before his blood was cold, I plotted to murder his son and seize the throne for myself."  His eyes were glued to Arya.  He could see her chest heaving and tried his best to calm her with his eyes.  The lies tasted like poison on his tongue as he continued to ‘confess'.  Suddenly the right of his head was struck by a rock and he struggled to compose himself, this degradation was sorely beneath him.

"Let the high Seturn and Baelor the blessed bear witness to what I say.  Geoffrey Baratheon, is the one true heir to the Iron Throne, by the grace of all the gods, Lord of the seven kingdoms... and protector of the realm."  The boy beamed with pride as this fell from Stark's lips.

The elderly man who had been behind Ned and sat on the king's council stepped up. "As we sin, so do we suffer.  This man has confessed his crimes in the sight of gods and men.  The gods are just, but beloved Baelor taught us they can also be merciful."  The old man turned to the boy, Geoffrey.  "What is to be done with this traitor, your grace?"

The crowd erupted.  Geoffrey raised his hand to silence the crowd, which they did at once.  "My mother wishes me to let Lord Eddard join the knights' watch.  Stripped of all titles and powers he would serve the realm in permanent exile.  And my lady Sansa has begged mercy for her father."  He turned to Sansa and granted her a sweet smile, which she readily returned.  He looked at her for a hard moment before his face hardened and he directed his attention back to the crowd, back to his people. 

"But they have the soft hearts of women.  So long as I am you king, treason shall never go unpunished.  Sir Illad, bring me his head." The young king demanded.  His arm was instantly grabbed by his mother, who in harsh whispers tried to plea the case and demand that he stuck with their original plan.  A plan Sensa had so feverishly fought for.

"Stop him!" Sensa yelled as strong arms held her back from running to her father.  Cersei still tried to talk sense into her son to no avail. 

Ned's eyes never left Ayra, who had begun to look at the bloodthirsty crowd around her with hatred.  They were a sea of people, below her, roaring for her father's life and her grip on her sword tightened, jumping from where she was perched she hastily weaved her way through the crowd towards her father, he hand never loosing contact with the hilt.  She was intercepted though by a man she had seen plenty on times, yet his name escaped her.

"Don't look!" He yelled as she fought against his grip.

"Let me go! Let me go!"

The executioner came and unsheathed the sword, it was huge, probably the same size as the man who had ordered it use.  ‘Please STOP!" Sensa struggled against the hands holding her back.  Ned's eyes travelled from her, to the blade, and back out into the crowd, searching for Arya.  His brain not being able to fully comprehend that he was about to meet the gods.

Arya's little cheek was buried into the man's chest as he cradled her.  She heard the blade sing, saw the birds fly, and then there was nothing but silence.  A cry ripped from her body.  He father was dead.  

"Send word to Camelot of Ned Stark's death." Joffrey Baratheon commanded as he leisurely climbed the few steps to his throne. He turned and looked out into the throne room that housed Sensa and Tyrion; the hand of the king.

"Do you think it's a good idea to go taunting a king?  We are already surely at war with the Starks.  Pendrag-" Tyrion Lannister asked his nephew with a rolling of his eyes.

"I am king, you do as I say." Joffrey bellowed as Cersei entered the throne room.

"What's this?" she inquired.

"I want word sent to Camelot of Stark's demise.  Tyrion won't let me."  Geoffrey whined and Sensa cut her eyes at him.  She never thought it possible to go from loving someone with all of her heart to hating them just as hard in the span of moments, but here she was.

"You most certainly will not.  Joffrey, you are newly king.  Now is not the time to make enemies.  Sending word to Camelot would be nothing but a taunt and Uther Pendragon is not one to tease.  He wiped magic out of his kingdom with a fierce hand.  He also has close ties with the Stark's.  We need not give him more reason to join them in a war that is surely coming." Cersei advised her son.

"He won't do anything, we have an army-‘ Joffrey began .

"As does he and he's got some of the greatest knights of all the kingdoms.  Not to mention that son of his; his sword is like an extension of his hand.  You might have the Iron Throne, Joffrey, but Uther has the Iron fist."  Tyrion interrupted, already seeing that Joffrey had the makings of an inferior king.

"I am the King-"

"And I am Queen Regent." Cersei interrupted.  She never wanted to play power struggle with her son, but if it needed to be done, then so be it.  He would not win, not now. 

 Joffrey looked each of them in the eye, all turning away, save Cersei.  She stared him down just as he did her, unflinching.  Finally the boy king had to turn from his mother's glare.  "Send word to Pendragon, NOW!" he demanded no one in particular.

"You're a fool boy!" Tyrion spit.  "You kill Stark for telling the truth-" Tyrion caught himself a bit too late.  Cersei's glare cut into him and he knew he spoke too much.

"Mother?" Geoffrey voice was small, fitting of one his age. "Is this true?"

"Of course not." He voice was tight with irritation.

"How many bastards does my old father have running around?" Joffrey asked voice strong once again, but tears brimming.

Cersei stood quiet, contemplating how to answer her child. When she went to speak he cut her off.

"Please mother, my ears have had its fill of your lies.  Send word."

"You give the Stark's an upper hand with Uther helping?"

"If he is so close to them, than they will go to him regardless."

"Yes but he may not be so quick to join them.  If you taunt Jeoffry, he will."

"If they want a war, then they can have one.  I won't sleep until every Stark is dead." He turned to Sensa with a glimmer in his eye.  He smiled when a lone tear escaped.

~*~

Uther Pendragon began to talk of taxes and how he had no choice but to raise them.  It was all conversation that Gwen was used to, but hearing it whilst sitting at the table was foreign to her.  She began to eat her potatoes and pretended that she and her father were eating together.  She could almost smell him as she chewed on her venison.  Uther's voice began to sound like his and the conversation changed from taxes to one she and her father had just had.

Morgana calling her name broke her from her daydream and she nicked her hand.

"Oww." she quipped as the sharp knife slashed her hand.  Merlin looked up first to see her shake it a bit; a few little droplets of blood flew onto the table before she rested her hand on the table, causing more blood to pool.  It didn't hurt all that bad, seeing that she was used to cutting or scraping herself when she did her job at the palace.

It was Uther who jumped from his seat first, making the short trip to her side.  He grabbed her small hand in his and she quickly pulled away.  He grabbed it again and looked at the cut.  It wasn't very big, however it was deep.  He grabbed his napkin and wrapped it around her hand, while he guided her out of her chair.  All the while Arthur watched her curiously.

"Morgana, will you please help Guinevere to Gaius?" The King asked while looking over his shoulder at his other ward.

"Of course, come on Gwen." She said as she raced to her sister's side.

"You, clean this up." Uther directed at Merlin.  "Arthur, there are some things I need to talk to you about."   He said as he approached the same door the girls had exited moments earlier.  Once gone Merlin looked at all the half eaten plates and scoffed. 

After he ate the rest of Gwen's venison and potatoes, he began to clean.

Merlin. Kilgharrah's voice cut deep into Merlin's psyche over and over again.  Bring me the blood, Merlin.

~*~

Arthur sat in his father's quarters rereading the letter that had been received from his Godfather.

"So this means-"

"That Guinevere is the sole and rightful heir of the Iron Throne...on both sides no less; a Baratheon and Targaryen." Uther interrupted.  "The blacksmith wasn't her father after all."

"What do we do?" Arthur asked trying to process that not only was she now ward to Uther, but the heir to a throne more powerful than his.

"For the moment I am at a loss.  Ned wanted Thomas to come to him, without her, which leads me to believe that it may not be the best... climate, for her to go and claim what's hers.  No, for now we keep her safe and none the wiser of her station.  I also received these before dinner."  Uther handed his son two other letters. 

"Everything is happening so fast Arthur." He continued as Arthur read the letters.  One from Catelyn Stark telling Uther of their campaign to have Ned freed.  Another saying they would be in Camelot in a week's time if Uther would have him.  He had already sent word for them to come.

"Do you think it's for the best to keep her in the dark?" Arthur asked.

Uther thought for a hard moment.  "Yes, what good would it be to know this?  Just yesterday she was a maid... To think she's been cleaning after us for all these years, I haven't been the kindest to her.  Why put more on her plate than is needed?  She can't go there, not right now.  If she knows she is queen she may want to go to the people.  There is a war brewing in King's Landing.  Sooner than later it will be at our door."

Arthur thought of the Gwen he knew, she would definitely want to see where she was from, the conditions the people were living in.

"Father, I think you may be right." Arthur conceded, though he didn't like the idea of keeping this from Gwen.  "Is this why you made her your ward?"  He asked as he placed the letters in his breast pocket.

Uther turned to his son, the answer showing in his eyes.  Arthur saw and then looked past his father.  Guinevere's promotion in status had nothing to do with his father being wrong.  It was a strategic move and Arthur berated himself for thinking that his father could've had that much of a conscious.

"I don't hold the same sentiments that you and Morgana have for the help." Uther defended himself as though he could read Arthur's thought.

Standing from the chair he had been sitting in Arthur nodded at his father. "Goodnight father."  He turned to leave.

"Arthur..."  Uther called to his son, who stopped in his tracks. "...one day you will be here, in this spot and everyone will want something from you.  Your shell will harden as has mine; and you won't have the time, nor will to develop ties to those that will not benefit you.  Tying yourself to the help brings nothing to you." Arthur waited to see if his father would continue, when the pause went on long enough, he continued out of his father's chambers and to Gaius'.

~*~

Merlin bolted to Gaius' chamber as soon as he had finished in the dining room.  He had remembers that Uther had wrapped Gwen's hand with a napkin.  He could take that to the dragon since he had asked for the blood.  Gwen's could be the only blood he meant. 

Bring me the letters. Merlin heard.

"What letters?" Merlin asked out load just as Gaius reentered the quarters.

"Letters? What letters Merlin?" The old man asked suspiciously.

"Gaius! I was looking for you.  Where is the napkin that Gwen had around her hand?"  Merlin asked as Gaius' brow arched. "Because I want to try a launder it." Merlin swiftly added.

"She took it with her, said she'd try to get the stain out." They stared at each other for a long moment.

"Gaius... is there anything going on?"

"What do you mean?" Gaius inquired.  Merlin was always a bit, strange, but he was more so than usual. 

"I'm going to Arthur's chambers." Merlin announced as he left Gaius to ponder what the young warlock could be up to.

It took him a bit of time to make it to Arthur chambers to help the young man do whatever biddings he needed his servant to do.  When he finally reached the chambers he found that Arthur was not there.  Though he had been, since his jacket lay haphazardly on the bed.  Merlin went to hang it up when two letters fell from inside the jacket.

Bring me the letters. He remembered and wondered if these were the parchments that he was to bring to Kilgharrah.  He stuffed the jacket underneath Arthur's bed in a corner, where it wouldn't be easy to see.  He could then put the parchment back when he came to wake Arthur. Quickly he placed the parchments in his bag and prepared Arthur's clothes for the night. 

Seconds later the Prince came stomping into his room.  "Do you know where Guinevere is?  I went to Gaius' chambers but no one was there.  I knocked on her door.  No answer." 

"Maybe Gaius gave her a sleeping draught.  She wouldn't hear you if he had.  I mean she's had a long, very long day."  Merlin reasoned.

"Yea, but I wanted to see her before she retired, say goodnight, and see if she needed anything.  It hasn't even been a full day you know."  Both men got quiet thinking of all Gwen had endured in the short few hours since her father's death.

"I won't need too much of your help tonight Merlin.  We've all been through it today.  Go on to bed, I'll see you in the morning."

"Are you sure Arthur?" Merlin made sure.

"Leave before I make you polish my armour." He tried to hide the smile, and Merlin smiled brightly back at him.

"Ok, goodnight Arthur."  Merlin turned to leave.

"Wait, Merlin." Arthur called after him as he turned towards the door. He's going to ask about the jacket.  "Wake up a bit earlier tomorrow.  I don't want Gwen going off with my father and Morgana alone.  I don't think she's ready for that yet, I mean my father did have the blacksmith killed; he meant a lot to her.  I think we should accompany them."

"Yea, I agree.  Good night."  Merlin said as he closed the chamber doors behind him.

"Goodnight." Arthur said to the big chunk of wood.

Once he had rounded the corner Merlin headed to Gwen's chambers.  They were close to Arthur's a heavily guarded.  From his spot, peering around the corner Merlin watched the guards.  "Dormiunt" he said just above a whisper and his cerulean eyes flashed amber.  He waited a few moments before the guards collapsed on the floor and fell asleep.

~*~

Catalyn Stark had prevented the assassination of her son, Bran.  She had captured Tyrion Lannister and was so close to having his life taken for the attempt on her son; he had professed his innocence from the beginning of their time together and at time, she almost believed him.  She had been fighting for Eddard's freedom, along with Robb, for some time.  She was a wife, a mother, a strong woman, and now a widow as she walked through the throng of men who had taken up their cause, they bowed to her.  Flames danced across their faces and in the distance. Her face held no emotion; she was stoic, the picture of strength as her eyes stayed firmly planted on the bare trees before her.  She was almost there, a woman like Catelyn Stark cried in private.  She passed the first few trees before she collapsed against the fourth one.  Her breath ragged, she was unable to catch it.  What good was breathing without her beloved?  Then she heard it; the unmistakable sound of metal hitting wood, and it was ferocious, accompanied by the strangled grunts of frustration and grief.

She pushed herself off of the tree and steadied her feet before making her way up the hill.  She could see him, the glow of the fires that kept their camp warm surrounding him as he lashed a stronger tree with his sword.  His face was wet with the tears he had long abandon wiping away, his nose running and mouth dripping drool; his sole purpose at that moment was to kill something and the tree would have to do.

"Robb" she said his name gingerly, she would say later because he was fragile, but it was really because she couldn't quite find her voice.  "Robb...Robb!" his attention turned to her swiftly. "You've ruined your sword." 

It fell from his hand instantly and he came and collapsed in her arms.  How long it had been since he had done this.  He was a man, all muscle and ferocity, but now she held him like only a mother could.  He buried his face into the fur around her neck. "I'll kill them all!" Came his muffled declaration.  "Every one of them. I will kill them all." He cried.

"My boy..." she whispered softly into his ear, while stroking his hair.  This is what she had been made for, this strength that only women could hold; she had become the spirit of comfort and reason. "...they have your sisters.  We have to get the girls back... and then we will kill them all." She promised and she meant it.  They just had to stay the course; they had to get to Camelot.

~*~

Guinevere had spent the last hour in Gaius' chamber as her stitched the space between her thumb and index finger up.  The wound was throbbing now and she knew her hand would be mighty sore for the next few days.

Now she lay in bed with a fullest belly she'd ever had and a pitcher full of wine, she found that it dulled the ache in her hand.  It was while she was lounging in her bed, searching for sleep, that Thomas, her father, crept into her mind and a lone tear escaped.  She had cried herself to sleep, and no doubt would do the same this night.   She turned to lie on her side and there was a faint crashing of metals outside her door.  She stilled when her door open and someone slipped in.

 Since she was to be announced the ward of Uther Pendragon she had been under heavy guard.  Uther feared that someone would try to use her against Camelot and himself.  So how did someone get into her chambers so easily?  She laid stiff as a board and waited for them to grab her but it never happened.  Instead she heard rummaging through her vanity for a few minutes until, she assumed, they had found what they were looking for.  She then heard steps moving toward the door, slightly opening her eyes she saw Merlin moving through the darkness of her chamber.  

She waited until he left and then threw the covers off of her.  Quickly she made her way to her door to see that her guards had been knocked out and Merlin rounding the corner quickly.  She too began to run after him.  Every once in a while she watched, from a distance, as he would stop and watch the guard and every time they would soon fall asleep; which she was grateful for, because unbeknownst to him, he was helping her follow him.  Once they made it out of the castle, she relaxed a bit as she followed her friend, who was moving quickly towards the wood surrounding Camelot.  He had brought a torch, and once he reached the outskirts of the city she watched as it lit itself. He has magic. Gwen thought with a mix of fear and awe.

She followed him to a clearing and using the cover of the trees waited and watched as he stood int eh middle looking towards the sky.  Her best friend had been keeping all these secret from her, from all of them.  She realized she didn't know who Merlin was.  Just then the wind stirred and the branches dances.  Her hair swirled around her head like a song and through the strands she saw it.  The dragon that had terrorized Camelot only a few months before stood in from on Merlin.

"Where's a blood?" He asked almost begging.

"Here" Merlin produced the blood and the dragon brought its massive nose to the small cloth.

"Read me the letter." Gwen heard a voice bellowed.

"Why do you need the letters?  It's Arthur's business and you said that you had no need for Arthur or his business."

"That was before."

"Before what?"

"Before I smelt the blood." The Dragon snapped and Gwen poked her head from her hiding place, trying to hear what Merlin was saying a bit better.   Kilgharrah wings flapped, causing a mighty wind and Gwen gasped as debris blew into her eyes.  Merlin instantly turned, thrusting the torch towards the sound and saw Gwen with her hands over her mouth and a look of shame in her eye.

"Balerion" Kilgharrah breathed as Merlin went to speak to Gwen, his friend.