SC6 Entry 8: A Token Of My Regard
Title: A token of my regard
Themes and/or Prompt/s: Loophole || Silk || Wimple || Annual
Rating: K
Word count: 2,950
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Guinevere, Merlin
Spoilers/Warnings: Mostly through 3x10.
Disclaimer: As much as I love Merlin, none of the named characters here are mine.
Summary: Guinevere finds Arthur and Merlin’s misadventures more romantic than they do. Arthur thinks the same of Guinevere’s.
Author’s notes: Set sometime between 3x08 and 3x10. Because we didn’t get to see near enough fun times for Arthur and Guinevere.
“Merlin! Shut. Up.”
“But, my lord, I just thought that Gwen would like to know the details of our journey.” Merlin responded to Arthur’s threatening glare and out-thrust jaw with an innocent smile. Gwen’s giggling encouraged him to maintain his innocently teasing smirk despite the threat of physical danger from his Prince.
It was just the three of them in Arthur’s chamber, lounging around in punchy exhaustion after consuming their fill of a cold supper. By the time Arthur and Merlin had cleaned up from their “little” adventure, Gwen personally responsible for hauling most of the hot water, the kitchens had closed and both Gwen and Merlin were loathe to wake up their fellow servants. Morgana was already abed and, after several weeks in Camelot, Elyan now assumed that Arthur would escort Gwen back home in the event of a late night.
“No, Guinevere does not.” Arthur reached over to tug at one of the silky curls escaping from her loose bun.
Said woman giggled again and batted Arthur’s fingers with her own, teasing, “Yes, Guinevere would like to hear every detail of why you tried to sneak back into the castle five days after riding out on a quick day hunt, dripping in noxious goo.” Her light tone belied the worried vigil she had kept on the ramparts, every free minute she had stolen for the past few days. She knew she should let the two of them go to bed, but she did want to hear why they had taken so long to return and what had caused the livid bruises and scratches on both of them.
As Arthur huffed and leaned back in his seat, crossing his arms across his chest, one ankle propped on the other knee, his face settling into a sulking pout, Merlin rose from his seat to begin his tale. Pantomiming riding a horse, he began, “Well, first of all, I should let you know Gwen, that the original target of our hunt was not something noble like a stag or boar, but was instead a bouquet of very specific flowers.”
Gwen bestowed an adoring smile on Arthur and touched his knee. “Were you on a quest to find me bluebells, Arthur?”
Arthur lofted his nose in the air in reply, but then ruined his sulk by gauging her expression out of the corner of his eye and not quite suppressing his answering smile. Merlin just grinned and watched their exchange until the golden prince relented with a huff, “I tried.”
“And we did find a whole glade of them, Gwen, it’s just that we didn’t manage to bring any back.”
“Perhaps you could instead take me there next year when they bloom again?” Gwen asked hopefully.
The prince looked alarmed at her question. “Oh no, Guinevere, I am never taking you anywhere near such a dangerous place. And Merlin, I forbid you to do so as well.”
Gwen tried to pout, but she was just too curious to maintain it. “Merlin! Stop teasing and tell me just why this little quest turned so perilous.”
“All right. Well, let me start at the beginning. I found out from one of the kitchen maids where the best bluebells could be found, near to her village a couple of hours ride from Camelot. We rode out in the morning, as you know, and following her directions, found the glade by midday.”
Arthur interjected in remembered awe, “It was huge, Guinevere, bigger than the courtyard, and so fragrant it was like being inside a bluebell itself.”
“The field surrounded an enormous oak tree. As soon as Arthur had entered the glade, he was off his horse and picking flowers indiscriminately.”
“I was discriminating. I was only picking the best ones for you, Guinevere.”
Gwen giggled at Merlin’s disbelieving expression, but she also smiled at Arthur, patting his knee again and letting her hand linger there. Arthur engulfed her slender fingers with his broad palm, trapping her hand against his thigh.
Merlin continued, “As I was saying, Arthur was laying waste to huge swathes of bluebells with his sword, using it like a scythe through wheat. Then he made me gather them and pile them on his cloak. Perhaps he thought to bury your bed in them so that you would have to come share his.” Merlin staggered around arms bent in front of him as if he was carrying a great burden, then he stopped and grinned, cocking an eyebrow at a laughing Gwen, while Arthur sunk a little lower in his chair turning red.
“But it was not long, before an old hag approached us from the direction of the tree, crying ‘Stop!’” Merlin took Arthur’s red cape and swung it over his head, stooping and enfolding the top around his face and clutching it under his chin like a matron’s wimple. He continued in a breathier more querulous tone, “’Who is stealing flowers from my garden? Only those who seek not for themselves may gather here.’”
Merlin then stood straight, letting the cape settle on his shoulders and holding his hand up as if lofting a sword, in a deeper voice he then said, ”So our besotted fool replied ’Well then, Grandmother, everything is as it should be, for I gather these blooms for my lady love.’”
At this point, Merlin stopped to wait for his audience attention to turn back to him, as they were both gazing at each other with matching adoring smiles. It took a couple of minutes, before Gwen finally became flustered by the lasting gaze and looked away, again noticing Merlin in hag form as he alternated acting out each character.
“But apparently that was not good enough for her, because she replied, ‘Bah! What does a lout like you know of love? You hope for something in return from said girl - a kiss, a cuddle, a temporary infatuation.’”
“Well this assumption irked Arthur, so he replied, ‘I just want to see her smile.’ The hag was silent a moment, before riposting, ‘Ah! Because you cannot truly make her happy, can you, young man?’ This shut Arthur up, but I could see he was getting angrier, so that this point, I said…” Merlin’s voice petered off as he remembered how he had precipitated the hag’s wrath by trying to find a loophole in her ban.
At the table, Arthur’s emotions had swung back around to belligerence, “Yes, Merlin, tell Guinevere, what you said next.”
“So I said, ‘Arthur will make her happy. He would die for her. And if he would willingly die for her happiness, then how can these flowers not be wholly for her?’ The hag cackled and said ‘Then once he has proved his love for her to me, he may reap his quest.’ And then she turned into a giant, snorting, red doe.”
“The horses ran off and the monster charged Arthur. He jumped out of the way and swiped its side with his sword, but could not raise even a welt, the sword just struck sparks against the hide of the deer. The behemoth ran right past Arthur and plowed over a small tree. At that point, the hero here grabbed me and we ran to the big oak.”
“Arthur boosted me up to the first crotch and I helped pull him up, all the while with the doe banging her skull against the immobile lower branches. We managed to scramble up to a couple branches higher than the head of the deer without getting hit. Although I keep thinking ‘Arthur the squirrel’ as he had to swing his legs out of the way of each bash.”
Gwen gasped, totally engrossed in Merlin’s tale, gripping Arthur’s leg so tight he winced at the bite of her nails.
“For the rest of the day, all through the night, and for most of the next day the doe would wander off grazing amongst the flowers. When it seemed to get far enough away, we would try to descend on the opposite side and escape. But each time the deer would herd us back to the tree. Once it caught Arthur hard enough to throw him twenty feet.”
“And that’s when the idiot here tried to ride the damn thing. Merlin actually got halfway over its neck before it threw him off as well.”
“Yeah, well, who’s the clotpole that then tried to dull his sword on the beast’s hide.”
“Arthur! Merlin! What happened next?”
Merlin resumed his tale. “So anyway, we managed to scramble back up into the tree without too much damage every time. But by the second night, we were starved. And it appeared that the hag was getting pretty tired of her deer shape too, because she kept flickering back into her hag form until we would try to escape again.”
“So finally, it’s dark as pitch, we can’t see anything and we hear this horrible sawing noise echoing across the glade. It’s so loud it seems like it’s coming from all around us and we can’t hear each other at all. Arthur starts climbing down and I follow him.”
“So Merlin decides that we should go in a completely different direction than we saw the hag last…”
“But we didn’t run into her, now did we? Shhh, my story.”
“Fine. Go on then.”
“So we walk through the night even though we’re starving and exhausted…”
“And whining about it really loudly…”
“…until we get back to the road around dawn. And finally, Arthur let us sleep. So it’s mid-afternoon when his snoring…”
“I don’t snore.”
“Oh, yes, you do.” Merlin and Guinevere chime together.
“I’m not sure I like this story anymore.”
“Arthur! This is the most romantic thing I’ve ever heard anyone do.” Gwen smiled gently and stroked his hand holding her own.
Arthur smiled and imperiously waved his hand, “You may continue, Merlin.”
“Thank you, my lord. It was mid-afternoon and I would’ve eaten any bandits that tried to attack us. We made it to a road-side tavern, where Arthur charmed a comely barmaid into giving us some bread and cheese and ale since we had nothing on us except the clothes on our backs and Arthur’s sword.”
Merlin paused again to enjoy Gwen’s glare at an oblivious Arthur. When Arthur finally noticed her ire, he did a double-take before blurting out, “She wasn’t pretty at all.”
Gwen continued to glare, though Merlin could detect a twinkle in her eye, “She wasn’t as pretty as you?” Arthur tried again.
No change. “All I did was smile at her and ask if she could spare us something to eat.” Arthur breathed a sigh of relief as Gwen finally relented and smiled at him again.
“So by the time we had eaten our fill, it was near dusk again and we discovered that we were at least two days walk from Camelot. But we had alternatives: we could walk a half hour to the local manor where they would of course put up the Crown Prince and supply horses but we would also have to put up with the lord’s three daughters. Or we could wait for morning and act as another guard for a caravan heading to Camelot in return for a ride. Guess which one we chose?”
“Caravan.” Arthur smiled ruefully at Gwen’s prompt response.
“You are correct, Gwen. Incognito, your two fearless heroes opted for bandits rather than daughters. And it was a good choice, peaceful, easy going, downright restful, untilllll His Royal Highness spied a patch of bluebells along the road and decided to pick a few.”
“That wasn’t why they attacked, Idiot.”
“Who attacked? What happened?”
“Sorry, Gwen, I wouldn’t keep you in suspense, if His Royal Dollopheadedness didn’t keep interrupting me.”
“Then stop making it sound like everything is my fault, Merlin.”
“Sire, the entire trip was your fault.” Both men stopped their sniping and looked with wide eyes at their sole audience as a frustrated growl emanated from Gwen’s throat. As soon as she realized what she had done, an embarrassed frown crept across her face and she pulled her hand away from Arthur, tucking both hands palm-down underneath her thighs on her seat.
“Uh, oh, right. Well, continue then.” Arthur sat up straight and pointedly looked at Merlin to underscore his willingness to let the story continue and avoid Gwen’s eyes, while Gwen alternated between glowering at them both impatiently and staring at her toes in consternation.
Merlin watched Gwen with a pleased and almost proud look on his face. “Around mid-afternoon we were ambling along, most of the guards were half-dozing on their mounts in addition to the drivers. Even I was partially dozing, riding behind Arthur. In fact, Arthur was probably the only one of us still alert to any possible dangers, although clearly he had other things on his mind since he pulled our horse over to the side of the road, muttering something about quests.”
“I saw a small patch of bluebells at the top of the bank, and well,” Arthur retrieved Gwen’s hand,” that is why we left in the first place.” She smiled at him again, her self-consciousness fading with his touch.
“So he ran off to pick flowers, leaving us defenseless.”
“There were seven other guards.”
“Who you knew to be completely useless. You lectured me with each guard’s failings while we were still packing the caravan the previous morning.”
Arthur sighed, his aristocratic features dissolving into a shame-faced expression. “Ah, true. Don’t think too badly of me, Guinevere. I abandoned my post to pick you flowers.”
Gwen giggled again. “And you call yourself a knight.”
“Ah, but he did prove himself a noble knight. Less than a minute after the bandits attacked, Arthur comes flying over the embankment and took out at least half of the twelve all by himself in less time than it took him to arrive. At the end of the skirmish, he probably accounted for at least eight of the twelve.”
“I took care of all twelve, Merlin. None of the guards were capable enough, although they did slow them. And it’s not like you took out any.”
“Of course not, my lord, I cannot wield a sword.” Merlin gave him a significant look, directing a quick glance in Gwen’s direction to divert his attention.
Arthur rolled his eyes, but subsided back in his chair.
“So because our noble hero saved the day, he still did not have any flowers. But we did not lose any of our compatriots. Still the attack was enough to finally goad the wagons to a pace quicker than their amble. So we were within Camelot’s gates by nightfall.”
“But that isn’t the best part of this failed quest, Gwen. Tonight was the night market and who do we encounter next to the tavern where we deliver the caravan? A florist hawking bluebells. Not just any bluebells, mind you, but bluebells which came from a ‘magical oaken glade’”. Turns out the silver-tongued hawker had talked her way into a certain witch’s good graces, enough so that she was able to collect a few bouquets to ‘pass on to others’”.
“So then where are my bluebells, Arthur?” Gwen teased in mock-annoyance.
Arthur mumbled under his breath, tucking his chin into his chest.
“What?”
Merlin laughed at Arthur’s discomfort, “He didn’t have any money, Gwen. When we joined the caravan, the negotiation was just for the use of the horse, and Arthur was so eager to see you, he left without seeking a reward for dealing with the bandits. So as he chose a bunch for you, he told her that he was the Crown Prince of Camelot and that she would be paid later.”
Gwen winced, suddenly picturing what came next. “She didn’t take to kindly to Arthur’s plan and he was already walking away with her wares, so she took one of her water urns, which must have stored pond tubers and threw it at his back. When he turned back around to lecture her, he got a face full of pond mud and dropped the bouquet.”
“Apparently I can retrieve a legendary trident from a long-lost kingdom, but I can’t bring back a handful of flowers.”
Arthur unfurled from pout to delighted grin as he watched Gwen convulse with laughter. He looked even more gratified as she threw herself into his lap and covered his well-scrubbed face with kisses. “Oh, Arthur. The. Most. Romantic. Quest. Ever!”
Merlin stood and stretched. “Well, that’s my cue to leave you two alone then. Good night,” he said brightly as he whisked himself out the door.
------------------------------------------------------------------------
The next morning, as Gwen walked down the hall with Morgana’s laundry, a well-muscled mail-clad arm came around her shoulder and dropped a ribbon-wrapped bunch of bluebells into the basket with a kiss on her cheek.
“These. Are for you.”
Gwen laughed. “Thank you! Your quest is now complete.”
“As is yours.” Arthur pulled Gwen into a convenient alcove and jingled a leather purse in her face. “When I went acquire bluebells this morning, the caravan merchant pressed this on me with a scared look and compliments to my ‘wife’.”
Gwen opened and closed her mouth a few times. Nothing came out as her face slowly heated to a burning red. She had not thought that Arthur would ever hear of her righteous harangue on his behalf.
Arthur watched the process with amusement, before stowing the purse in the pocket of her apron and cupping her face in his hands.
“And that is why I sought you flowers, Guinevere. Because you defend me. From unscrupulous merchants. From enchanted harpies. From myself and my own doubts.”
He kissed her thoroughly, then headed off to training, whistling jauntily.
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