Chapter Text
Arthur found her in his chambers, tinkering by the vanity.
Their chambers, he corrected himself, and smiled at the thought alone. Well – they soon would be anyway.
The castle was full of life, servants and courtiers, knights and nobles bustling about – even now, setting decorations and readying thrones, and feasts and speeches –, preparing for the moment they would finally celebrate the coming of their new queen.
Guinevere still insisted – stubbornly, if he said so himself – to remain living in her home until the very day they were married. Then again, he would have expected nothing less. But with the ceremony a mere three days away, preparations to move her belongings to the palace were underway. Today, evidently, was the day for all manner of colorful little bottles.
“What are they?” he asked as he stepped closer, and startled her so badly she nearly dropped the one she held.
She put her free hand to her chest with a breathless chuckle. He tried not to laugh. “Sorry.”
Guinevere gave him a look, more amused than anything, slipping her hand in his with a smile. He took a moment to marvel at the sight of her, then brought his attention back to the vials.
“So, what are they?” he asked again.
She gave a delicate shrug. “Just…ladies’ things.”
“Ah, let me guess,” he ventured, taking the particular ladies’ thing she had now, filled to the brim by some sort of sparkling green liquid, and giving it a little shake. “This is for your hair.”
“No.”
“Mm, no? Alright. For your skin?”
“Mm-mm.”
He frowned. “Your eyes?”
She shook her head.
He gave her an appraising look. “You don’t any warts in places I should know about, do you?”
“No!” she denied with a gasp, wrestling the bottle from his hand and putting it back on the vanity with a decisive thud – all the while seemingly unimpressed by his attempts to suppress his laughter.
As much as he tried, he didn’t quite manage to sound serious as he said, “Forgive me.”
She gave a soft sigh, though there was a little smile at the corner of her mouth. “Why do you want to know about these things anyway?”
“Well,” he said, bringing her closer with a press of his hand to her back, “I’ll be spending a lot of time around them in the future - ” her eyes lit up now, teeth sinking into her lip - "so I thought I’d learn what they were. You know, so I don’t…accidentally poison myself.”
“How would you poison yourself with these?”
He shrugged. “Stranger things have happened.”
She tilted her head just so, like she couldn’t quite disagree with that. Then, she asked, “Stranger than a king marrying a serving girl?”
He brought her closer still, with both hands at her waist. Her arms came around his shoulders. “Nothing strange about that,” he said, catching a glimpse of her bright smile before his eyes fluttered shut.
He leaned in for a kiss.
And all hell broke loose next to them.
Bright lights, and loud noises, and Guinevere screaming – and even as he shielded her, pushed her behind him, all Arthur could think of was the best way to get to his sword.
But when it settled, and the lights faded, all he could do was stand frozen in the spot.
For a moment, he thought he’d gone mad – one too many blows to the head, one too many responsibilities to carry out, something Merlin had put in his food – or maybe it was just him, so anxious to finally be married that his mind had conjured an image of Guinevere in the finest of red silks, with furs draped about her shoulders and a heavy cloak falling to her feet, and little jewels catching the light in her hair.
And then maybe, next to the dream, his anxiety had conjured a nightmare, of Guinevere in dark furs caked with blood, sword strapped to her back and a dagger at her hip, with a scar and a marking that marred her face.
At his side, Guinevere – his Guinevere, beautiful and unmarked and dressed in purple – gasped and grabbed his arm. And that, reason pierced his thoughts, probably meant he wasn’t just seeing things.
And for the first time in his life, Arthur found something he could not blame on Merlin.
One day earlier
Merlin hummed to himself, wiping down Gaius’s beakers. In a stroke of good will, he even decided to polish them.
Birds were singing, the sun was shining, Arthur was happy - Agravaine was miserable, probably - and Gwen was going to be queen. Finally. Now, at long last, he would have the pleasure of watching her get crowned by the end of the week.
Ah, he thought with satisfaction. Destiny.
When the door opened to reveal Gwen herself, Merlin beamed.
“Gwen!”
“Merlin,” she greeted kindly, her blue skirts swishing around her ankles.
“Do you need something?” he asked, eagerly shucking his current duties. Gaius would understand. With a grin, he added, “What might I do for the future queen of Camelot?”
In return, she offered a tremulous smile. “I, uh, I came for a sleeping draught.”
“Of course,” he said, going to the shelves. “Too excited to sleep?” he teased as he rummaged about.
“Something like that,” she allowed.
He paused, studying her more carefully. On second look, she did seem a bit…off. “Gwen,” he prompted, “are you alright?”
She gave him a firm nod, confident smile firmly in place. It took all of five seconds for it to be replaced by pure, sheer panic.
“Oh, Merlin, what am I doing?” she despaired. “I can’t be queen! What was I thinking?”
Ah. Well, he had already talked Arthur out of his panic about this marriage. It was only a matter of time before Gwen would succumb to it too, he supposed.
He abandoned the shelves and the vials, instead walking over to place both hands on her shoulders.
“Gwen,” he said, clear and firm, “you’ll make a wonderful queen.”
She gulped.
“Everyone thinks so,” he assured, and returned the frantic shaking of her head with a very enthusiastic nodding of his own.
She heaved a sigh. “Merlin…”
“Arthur thinks so.”
It was amazing, really. How just the mention of his name calmed her. Like a charm.
A little smile broke forth, too. “Really?”
Well, now she was just fishing for compliments.
“Really,” he said. “You know he wouldn’t ask you to marry him if he didn’t think you were the queen that Camelot deserves. I happen to know for a fact,” he added brightly, “that he said you’d proved yourself more than capable these past few months.”
Gwen’s eyes softened. “He did?”
Merlin nodded. “Yeah.”
She smiled wider, beautiful and bright.
But then it dwindled again. “I fear he thinks too highly of me,” she said quietly. “And that he’ll be disappointed when I don’t live up to it. Along with the whole of Camelot.”
“Who’s to say you’ll disappoint anyone?”
She sighed again.
Now, he did, too. “You’re the smartest, wisest person I know, Gwen,” he said. “If anyone can do it, it’s you. Besides,” he added, “being queen isn’t about where you come from, it’s about what you believe in. Like justice, and fairness, and…things like that.”
She gave him a look. “That may be so, but…there are things to know. And I’m just now beginning to see how much – did you know it’s the queen’s job to look over grain reports and present their written summary to the king?”
He hadn’t, actually. “Isn’t that Leon’s job?”
“Only because Camelot hasn’t had a queen in twenty-five years.”
Catrina the Troll excluded, he presumed. “Alright, so…you’ll write a lot of dull summaries, what’s the problem?”
Fear filled her eyes again. “I’ve never written anything like that,” she mumbled.
He shrugged. “I’m sure you learn these things.”
She gave a tight huff, and wrenched her head away.
Merlin frowned. “Gwen,” he asked – slowly, carefully, “you do want to be queen, don’t you?”
“Of course I do,” she said, like it was all she’d ever dreamed of, and he breathed a little easier. “But…” She turned away from him now, pacing around the quarters. “I think I’m capable of it, that I would even be a good queen – ”
“A great one.”
Her smile didn’t reach her eyes. “Perhaps even that,” she allowed. “Especially when Arthur – ” She shook her head a little. “But then I remember that I was never taught how to do all these things, and…I’m not so sure that, maybe…maybe another wouldn’t be better suited for it.”
It broke his heart to hear her say it. “Did you tell Arthur about this?”
“I can’t tell Arthur about this.”
“No, of course not, why would you talk to your future husband about something like this?” he deadpanned. “Makes no sense.”
“It’s not that important.”
“It is if it keeps you up at night.”
“It doesn’t – ” She stopped herself, shaking her head. “I’m sure it’s just all this anticipation that’s getting to me,” she dismissed the next moment.
Merlin withheld a sigh. “Right.”
She pinned him with a look. “Not a word of this to Arthur.”
“Aye aye, m’lady,” he muttered.
She grew contrite from one blink to the next. “I didn’t mean it like – ”
“I know,” he assured softly. Knowing when a battle was lost, he relented, and finally circled back to fetch her what she’d come for.
“Gaius’s newest concoction,” he told her as he transferred the vial into her care. “It could knock out a horse.”
She looked a little alarmed.
“As long as you only take two drops, you’ll be fine,” he assured.
Finally, she smiled again. “Thank you, Merlin,” she said, with all her usual sweetness and care. He returned it as they bid their farewells, and frowned at the door when it closed after her.
There was no doubt in his mind that there was no woman – in the kingdom, the land, the world – who belonged on that throne more than Guinevere. Arthur would certainly be the first to agree.
Gwen would probably agree, too, if she could just see she had no reason to worry.
She was more than capable...
She just needed the chance to show it.
Merlin grinned.
Just a little arranging of circumstances, to give her the opportunity to prove herself and restore her confidence. And he just so happened to have the perfect set of skills for the job.
A little magic never hurt anyone.
With renewed zeal, he skipped the steps to the upper level two at a time, turning over the old books. Gaius had told him once, that manipulating reality was complicated and unexplored business, the writing and spells that did exist having been largely destroyed in the Great Purge.
Looking through them now, Merlin could see that he had been entirely right. Aside from some faded account of what such magic entailed, he found only one actual spell.
He pursed his lips at it. It wouldn’t quite do the job.
Still, if the spell was lacking, then he would just…improve upon it. Invent a new one.
How hard could it be?
Gwen had never thought that a room with so many people in it could be so quiet.
Even Gaius, always so quick to explain and adapt, stood as silent as a mute in the face of – this.
She had seen sorcery (and sorcery, it had to be) bring many strange things to Camelot – witches, and goblins, and griffins, and trolls – but this – this was too bizarre to comprehend.
To see her own face stare back at her, not once but twice – what sort of magic did this?
Finally, it was one of the – – women, who spoke. The one dressed all in red, with jewels in her hair. She had to a noble, a lady of the highest standing. A queen.
And if she spoke, it was only to comment upon the same thing she had mentioned before. “You have no experience in dealing with other worlds, I take it?”
Ah, yes. Other worlds. That was what she had said first, too, before Arthur had yelled for the guards to fetch Gaius and Merlin – that they were from different worlds. As if that…made sense.
The other one, with the blades and the marking, had not uttered a single word. Gwen had never thought she could be so frightened of her own reflection either, twisted and strange as it might be.
Under her hand, Arthur gave a little jolt. “M – er, my – lady – um, Your – High-Highness?” he stammered.
She bowed her head. “Guenevere.”
“Of course,” he said, as if in a daze – then shook his head, paused, sighed, and swiveled frantically to the side. “Gaius?”
It seemed Gaius had at last recovered from his surprise. “It is true, my lord,” he said, carefully, “that some have spoken of other worlds, that…exist in parallel to ours. Such theories, of course, are obscure, and the sorcery that would access them – ” why his eyes slipped to Merlin as he said it, Gwen had no idea – “even more so.”
“My world is no less real than this one,” the first – the one – the – Guenevere, spoke again. “Or any other in the universe. The worlds themselves, are numberless. And in each, we are all different versions of ourselves. The same but…” She smiled sweetly. “Different.”
“You’re…very knowledgeable,” Arthur commented, and sounded – more than a little dazed.
Gwen’s eyes snapped over to him. Was he actually – charmed? By her – her – her doppelganger?
The same doppelganger offered a wider smile still. “We mean you no harm,” she assured.
Expectedly, in Gwen’s opinion, all eyes went to her companion. She raised her eyebrows at all of them, arms crossed over her chest. “I don’t.”
Again, Gwen was struck by how completely, utterly bizarre it was to hear her own voice, from the mouths of those who looked so like her, and yet were so…unlike her. Same but different, she supposed.
Another thing she had supposed, was that Arthur would have more sense than to be taken by these women – or even just one of them. And yet, his posture had grown more relaxed, his voice coloring with curiosity as he asked, “So, I don’t understand, how is there…two of you?”
“We’re not from the same world.”
“Oh, you’re…from two different…” He took a deep breath. “Right. That’s not going to be…confusing at all. Three…Guineveres.”
There, he seemed to remember that she did still stand at his side, meeting her eyes with concern. But not, as she might have expected from the king, with any apparent concern for safety. Only like he feared she might be overwhelmed and on the brink of panicking.
Which she was.
But honestly, how was he so easily swayed by them?
It was the frightening one who spoke next. “My name is Gwenhwyfar.”
Oh, variety. Lovely.
“Can we call you Gwen?” Merlin asked.
“No.”
“Alright, then.”
At this juncture, Arthur seemed to remember what he ought to be doing – which was to interrogate them – and asked, “Why are you here?”
“I’m not entirely sure,” Guenevere said. “It wasn’t our doing. At least, I assume…” She turned to – Gwenhwyfar, who only shook her head. Seemingly satisfied, Guenevere continued. “It took powerful magic to bring us here, that much is certain – ” Gwen’s stomach turned – “but we did not wield it, and we do not have the power to undo it.”
Gwen was sure she would panic now.
Merlin was biting his nails.
Arthur frowned.
“You don’t seem very concerned.”
She smiled again. “I will be missed,” she said. “It won’t be long before my husband comes to bring me back. And yes,” she added at Arthur’s look, “he does look a lot like you.”
Arthur turned to Gwen again, grinning. The best she could offer in return was a grimace.
He patted her arm in comfort – and again, she despaired that he wasn’t more concerned about this.
“And I’m sure,” Guenevere now turned to Gwenhwyfar, “that he will be happy to return you to your world as well.”
The look she received in return could have frozen over fire.
“Won’t someone come for you as well?” Merlin piped in once more – even he, Gwen realized, was more curious than wary. Her last hope for common sense was Gaius, and as she glanced over to him, she did find long-needed solace in the fact that he seemed about as distrusting as she felt.
“No one in my world wields enough power to do this,” Gwenhwyfar was saying, a tightness to her voice. “And none of them would want to.”
That last bit, if Gwen wasn’t mistaken, was a jab against Guenevere.
The latter bristled. “Well, it is wise, to only want to attempt what you can do,” she said, and the false sweetness that filled her words as she added, “But I’m sure one day they’ll amass enough power between them to cause a ripple at the gates,” could have cut through stone.
Gwenhwyfar uncrossed her arms, fingers twitching like she might just reach for her dagger.
Arthur bit his lip. “You two have met before, I take it?”
“Yes,” they said as one – though it was hard to tell which one was less pleased about it.
“How, exactly?” he asked.
Guenevere took a deep breath, raising her chin. “I am no stranger to different worlds,” she said. “My husband makes something of a habit of travelling between them.”
Arthur stood a little straighter, muscles tightening under her touch, and Gwen rejoiced. Finally – caution!
“Habit?” he echoed.
For the first time, Guenevere faltered. Her eyes went over each of them, studying. Merlin first, head to toe, her eyes narrowing – then Gaius, with the same treatment, and finally – her.
Their eyes met, and Gwen was sure that no matter what she learned or saw next, for however long she lived, would ever be as strange as this moment.
When she spoke again, it was once more to Arthur, but Guenevere’s words were weighed more carefully. “You understand that all of this requires magic, my lord?”
Arthur squared his shoulders. “Yes,” he said tightly.
“Is that a problem?”
He was quiet for a time, only to, in the end, merely cite the law, “Magic is not allowed in Camelot.”
“I see.” Guenevere nodded – and why she slipped a look in Merlin’s direction as she did, Gwen couldn’t say. “But please understand,” she said, “that it is not so in my world. Or in Gwenhwyfar’s.” They looked to each other again, and on this single subject, seemed to be in solidarity. “We did not ask to be here, and we mean you no harm. All we ask is that you mean us no harm in return.”
And just like that, all hope for caution was lost.
“Of course not, my lady,” Arthur was quick to assure.
There was a flare of – something in her chest, though Gwen could not name it.
Guenevere smiled, bowing her head. “Thank you.”
“And I assure you,” she added, “that if my husband has this habit, it is only because he believes that new things, new wisdom, can be gathered from each world. He works with those who have magic, but he does not have it himself – and neither do I. If you will allow this one exception to your laws, we can put all of this behind us quickly and painlessly.”
Arthur nodded, accepting this.
Gwenhwyfar rolled her eyes, the marking on her face moving with it. Gwen looked over to her, letting her gaze settle this time.
On the left side of her face, black ink drew a path from her temple to the middle of her cheek, a thick and long line. Gwen thought it looked a lot like a snake.
And on the other, a scar, white and faded, marked a half-moon around her eye.
Gwen’s eyes slipped lower, to the vest she wore over her shirt, lined with fur marred by dried, blackened blood – lower still, to the large dagger at her hip, and the flecks of mud that dotted her tights, here and there, all the way down to the tips of her boots.
When she looked up again, Gwenhwyfar was watching her. She hastily averted her gaze.
“How quickly are we talking about, exactly?” Arthur’s voice commanded her attention.
“They shan’t be long,” Guenevere assured. “A day, at most.”
“A whole day?” Gwen let out, and all eyes immediately went to her.
It was probably the first time she had spoken since they had appeared, she realized – and it was to embarrass herself. She swallowed. “I mean,” she backtracked, “I – I just – it just doesn’t seem all that quick, is all.” She promptly looked to her feet after that.
After a moment, she felt Arthur’s hand on hers. He took it, to place it on his arm through the crook of his elbow, and gave it a comforting squeeze. When she looked up to meet his eyes, he gave her the smallest of nods, as if to reassure her everything would be alright.
She let herself believe it, and clung to him for dear life.
“However long it takes,” Guenevere was speaking again, “the only thing we can do is wait.”
“Um, of course,” Arthur agreed. “You, uh, you may stay here.” He gestured to the rest of his chambers, and Gwen fought the urge to just – pinch some sense into him.
“Thank you,” Guenevere said. With that, she undid the clasp on the cloak she wore – and stood waiting expectantly.
After a false start and a very pointed look from Arthur, Merlin flew over to her side. “Allow me, my, uh, lady.”
She nodded politely as he took the cloak from her shoulders, to fully reveal the finest of red gowns, but did not thank him.
Merlin draped it over the back of one chair, pulling another for her to sit, asking if he may offer her something to drink, and Gwen was overcome by the oddest sense that she could see into the future.
Was this what it would be like? For her and Merlin? Deference rather than friendship, servitude rather than company? She hadn’t even thought about it. Merlin was such a constant, such a friend, that she had never imagined that it would – that it could even change.
It wouldn’t be like this, would it?
The clank of the goblet against the table brought her out of her thoughts.
Merlin turned to Gwenhwyfar. “Would you like me to take your, uh – ” He gestured vaguely up and down her chest. “I could clean it, um…take out the…er, blood…from it? If – if you want.”
She gave him an odd sort of look, a softness to it that Gwen hadn’t thought her capable of. “You don’t have to trouble yourself.”
Merlin grinned in that bright way of his, shrugging, and Gwen found herself longing for things she hadn’t even lost yet. “It’s no trouble.”
“Well, alright, then,” Gwenhwyfar agreed, unstrapping the sword from her back. The golden hilt of it caught the light from the window before she propped it against a cupboard. She undid the ties and the clasps of her vest next, until the clothing was in Merlin’s hands.
Without it, she seemed a little smaller, but it opened the view to the play of muscles beneath her shirt, well-defined and strong in ways Gwen could never hope of achieving herself.
She glanced at Arthur. He had the most transfixed look on his face, eyes wide and mouth hanging open.
There was that flare in her chest again.
With the bundle safely in Merlin’s arms, Arthur proposed, “While you wait, perhaps you’d like something to pass the time? Some entertainment?”
“I’m good,” Gwenhwyfar said, and promptly turned to stand by the window.
Guenevere, however, had requests. “I shall do as my husband and take the opportunity to learn,” she declared. “Perhaps some writings for me to read?”
“Yes, certainly,” Arthur was eager to please. “Gaius?”
Gaius smoothly obliged. “What would you care for, my lady?”
“Hm, some history of this world,” she mused. “Perhaps a history of the great families of the land?”
“I shall do my best to find something to your tastes,” Gaius assured, then gestured for Merlin to come along.
Gwen almost begged to take her with them.
But alas, the door closed behind the two, and she was left to endure.