Gwen sensed the tension in Uther as they stood outside Morgana’s chamber, waiting for the physician to emerge. Morgana had fainted walking up the stairs to the castle, Merlin said. She had revived almost immediately after, but the physician had been summoned nonetheless.

Finally the door opened and Filib stepped out. A man about Uther’s age, with a ginger-coloured beard and a clear, honest face, he seemed relieved.

“What is it?” Uther asks, “Is it poison?”

“Hardly, milord,” Filib says, self-satisfied, “Merely the moon’s ailment,”

”The what?”

Filib clears his throat, then glances at Guinevere as though embarrassed, “The female ailment, milord. It’s merely the listlessness brought on by the monthly courses. All she needs is rest.”

“Ah,” Uther averts his eyes, “May I see her?”

Filib paused, “She requested only the lady Guinevere’s company….I think it’s best to leave her with female companionship for the evening milord. I’m sure she’ll be right as rain tomorrow.”

Uther’s eyes skim her with that same cold suspicion, and Gwen recalls Arthur’s words. My father thinks you’re a witch.

She bows slightly in a show of deference, then slips into Morgana’s room, not daring to glance at Arthur.

Morgana is lying back against her pillows, midnight hair streaming about her, eyes fixed on the bed-canopy.

Gwen takes a seat beside her and grasps her friend’s pale hand, “Shall I get you something to eat? Some bread and fruit perh-,”

Suddenly Morgana is upright, clutching Gwen’s arms with desperate shaking fingers, her eyes wide like a trapped animal. “Gwen…I lied. I lied to him.”

“What? Lied to who?”

“I lied to the physician!”

“I don’t understand..,” Gwen couldn’t remember seeing anyone so afraid.

“Gwen…I lied. I lied about my…courses.”

Slow realization creeps across Gwen’s mind, even before Morgana’s next words:

“I haven’t bled in nearly three months Gwen. I thought it was just my imagination at first. And then with our voyage here I thought…I thought I was simply seasick. But now…,” her voice broke, tears staining her cheeks, “I can no longer deny it. Gwen…I’m with child.”

A thousand questions flash through Guinevere’s mind, her consciousness struggling to absorb the words she had just heard. With child. She had heard stories of unwed noble--women who bore their lovers’ children, only to be cast out from their families. Some were even imprisoned, or exiled so that men of their households might keep their pride intact. One could only imagine with Uther…

“Gwen…please say something.” At the sight of Morgana’s stricken, tear-moist face Guinevere felt suddenly ashamed of her silence. She embraced her friend, pulling her shuddering face against her shoulder.

“I’m sorry. It will be alight, Morgana. I will help you…somehow. We’ll find a way,” she tried to keep her voice steady, reassuring, the way she imagined her mother’s would be.

But Andromedhe had lived in a different time, a different world it seemed.  A world where women, and men, were beholden to powers more ancient and sacred than the pride of kings. 

That world was gone now, burned and trampled under the feet of Uther’s soldiers, and they were but two women, afraid in their own way of the men who would puppeteer their lives for the gains of power.

“What shall I do?” Morgana whispered.

And Guinevere wished she knew.

****

Dusk had long since melted into night when Morgana, exhausted at last, fell asleep in Gwen’s arms. Tired herself, and famished besides, Gwen crept out of the chamber, wondering if the cook had saved any leftovers from supper.

To her surprise, Merlin was outside the doors, knees drawn up to his chest in a posture indicating he’d been there for some time. He stood up at the sight of her.

“How is she?” Gwen noticed he held a small bowl of fresh-cut strawberries. Her stomach rumbled at the luscious scent and sight of the fruit.

“They’re Morgana’s favourite,” Merlin explained, “ I thought they might make her feel better.”

“Merlin…” Gwen is surprised, anew, by the simple thoughtfulness of his nature. She reaches out to take the bowl when his words stop her:

“Gwen…I know.” And the look in his grey-blue eyes left no room for doubt.

***

Morgana took to the strawberries with relish, their tart redness livening her ghost-pale lips. Merlin sat on the floor beside them.

“How long have you known?” Morgana asked quietly.

“Since we left Camelot, mostly on the voyage,” he tries to smile his youthful smile, “I live with a physician, remember?” Then his face sobers, “What are we going to do?”

“We?” she looked surprised.

”Of course,” Gwen tried to smile too, pushing Morgana’s blue-black tresses away from her face, “We are your friends Morgana. Whatever happens, we will not leave you alone to face this.”

The question was on the tip of her tongue. Who is he? For a moment she couldn’t fathom what manner of man had swayed Morgana to risk so much. Then she remembered the way Arthur looked at her, the way his tongue laved her name Guinevere. The helpless runaway beat of her heart in his presence. From the moment they met, his eyes were a risk her body longed to take

Merlin breaks the silence between them, “We have to tell Arthur.”