Chapter Text
It was not winter yet, but a dry cold was settling in so quickly that everyone feared the worst for the darkest weeks in the year, as their fires were already burning longer every day. A nasty wind was making every crack in walls and door frames whistle and was seeping even through the thickest sleeves. Up the steps of the castle entrance, waiting in open air for Lord Cnidel's carriage and his entourage, Guinevere felt unarmed against the cold.
They had almost given up on the man, so when he was finally announced, the castle began bustling around - rooms had to be heated, linen and flowers had to be changed as they had been waiting for some days already. Between helping setting up the guest rooms, and last minute staging, Guinevere's fur-lined coat was probably forgotten in her room.
Yet she would not shiver with everyone watching.
"Are we supposed to wait for the solstice for them to eventually arrive ?" she muttered under her breath.
The king pretended not to hear anything, but her queen had become skilled enough to read her when they where in public. With both of them bound by their roles, noticing joy in the corners of each other's eyes, disappointment in a tensed swallowing, anger in white fingers clenched around Excalibur's hilt had become something almost necessary for survival.
Besides, Guinevere would never miss an excuse to take a peek, nor would she be tired of the court's games. Except for some parts - she had seen worse during some campaigns, but slowly freezing in front of her own home for a man neither of them trusted was getting irritating.
"That's not funny," she carried on between her teeth, because Arturia's smile might be invisible but she could feel it dancing in the air, "you're not the one who'll have to spend the evening embroidering a vain pattern as a gift to Lady Elyone's most recent addition in an apparently quite prolific lineage - the country will soon be populated only with members of their family."
"At least you don't have to go through every single detail on how Cnidel conceived said children," Arturia replied eventually, softly yet still not looking at her queen as her eyes focused on the guards opening Camelot's entrance.
She had done her best to sound neutral about that upcoming conversation but Guinevere knew how appalled she was and muffled a laugh.
"You do have a point," she admitted with a smile as everyone was looking at the arriving carriage. "But at least you get to drink - I'll have to leave with Elyone's party before the third course, because as usual the singers will upset her, then her private sybil's will reward us with so-called prophecies about our coming downfall."
Her tone was more bitter than planned yet no one around noticed - except Arturia, of course, who also realized how pale her lady's complexion had become. Offering Guinevere her own pelisse was the best excuse she could find to whisper that she could bring some wine in their room later in the night, once the welcome ceremony was over.
"Do you happen to have something in mind ?" teased the queen.
"I can assure you it's not embroidery."
There was a bit of hunger in Guinevere's smile but she bit back her reply as Cnidel was finally on his feet, some equerry already efficiently taking care of his horse. A quick look at Arturia and her hardened face confirmed her the King was back, and the Queen followed.