I wrote this story for the prompt lottery on ag_fics ages ago but never got around to posting it. (It was later brought to my attention that it holds some similarities to a story by threemeows, this wasn't intentional, subconsciously or otherwise I never go out to copy another writer's work.)
"On guard!" Gwen jumped out of her throne. She'd been sat with Arthur through the council and had remained after everybody had left watching as every an and dog left. Filtering out through the far door away from her. Her husband had kissed her goodbye and left with them, he had training to supervise. Gwen, on the other hand, had little to do. The other ladies were all sewing or idly chatting which was something she didn't care to partake in.
Instead she was planning what she could do next. She was 'The Commoner Queen', known for doing things for the people she grew up with and right now she was trying to come up with another way in which she could help improve the lives of those in the lower town.
That was of course until there was a sword being held to her middle.
"You are under attack!" she assumed her role quickly and gasped holding her hand to her chest in feign surprise.
"Just what, bad sir, have I done to procure such a treatment?"
"You are the Queen of this land, I could fetch a pretty price for you! Towards the door," the command was followed by a couple of sniggers from behind her throne. She stood and followed the male's instructions.
"I demand to know who you are. If you are to be my captor you owe that much. Your name?"
"I am King Llacheu of Llaconia and you will do as I command."
"Not King Llacheu. I've heard stories. You will not take me alive."
"Struggle and we'll only kill you faster!" one of the other two boys piped up.
Guinevere had spent most of the afternoon tied to a chair in her eldest son's chambers. She'd finally broken free when all three of them had left to have their afternoon snack that the maids had brought them. They had left her there in her loose ties and she'd managed to wrangle herself free.
She noticed Gwydre's wooden sword abandoned on the chair by the door and she smiled to herself.
Gwen stationed herself on the chair with the wooden sword in her hand and waited on her children's return.
It wasn't long before the door opened with Gwen behind it as they all ran in ready to continue with their charade.
"Where did she go?" Amhar shouted as he ran into the room trailing behind his two older brothers. She took her cue to push the door shut behind them with a click and a smirk on her face. She had lost her crown hours ago when they had originally 'looted' her.
"In the chairs, boys," she commanded with the sword pointed towards them. They obeyed and sat, "Good, now my treasures, sirs?"
"In the draw!" Amhar blurted only to be hit up the back of the head by his eldest brother, "Muuuuuuuum!"
She ignored his cries and retrieved the jewellery they had stolen from her and replaced her rings to her fingers and her locket around her neck. She left her crown on the side for the time being and turned back to her sons.
"Now. What kind of captors leave their hostage unattended?" she asked them walking in front of them ever the commander. She picked up the rope that they had tied her to the chair with previously and started towards Llacheu and tied his hands to the chair, "And tied so loosely?" her son winced as she tightened the rope around his wrists and tied him to the back of the chair.
She moved on to Amhar who had sat himself between his two brothers and tied him hands – looser than she had Llacheu's – to the chair, "If you were a real king you would know that," she moved quickly onto Gwydre, securing him to the chair.
"I shall be sending a message to the King. I think I could fetch a pretty penny for the three of you."
The King got the message as he was on his way back to the castle from the training ground. A young page had quietly held out the paper note to him and run away again. Arthur frowned, recognising his wife's handwriting straight away.
He made his way to his son's chambers, confusion on his face.
"Guinevere what on earth is going on?" he asked as he entered before he clapped eyes on his three sons, all so alike in looks and character. All currently looking just as guilty as the other.
"Your sons took me hostage, so I returned the favour."
"And what would you want for their release?"
"A kiss," Arthur smirked and moved forwards to grant her her wish only to be stopped her her hand on his chest, "And a promise that the next time they play Kings, you are their captive."
"Deal," he laughed swooping his head and quickly kissing her, "Anything else?"
"I think I'm done," she smiled and released the knot on Gwydre's hands and the long rope dropped from the three of them, releasing them instantaneously. Llacheu massaged his wrist and pouted at his mother who showed no remorse, "I think they belong to you," the Queen stated to her husband.
"I think you'll find thy belong to you too."
"They are their father's sons."
An hour later Arthur was sat in his own chambers tied to a chair.
"Llacheu! Gwyd!" he breathed heftily and shouted once again, "Amhar!"
"Well, I did warn you," an amused voice said behind him. He shot a look over his shoulder in the general direction of his wife's voice.
"Untie me, Guinevere, please," he begged.
She rounded on him standing directly in front of him. She slowly shook her head as a wicked grin spread over her face, "I quite like you right where you are."