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.