Fic: Trials
Title: Trials
Show: Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Gwen/Arthur, Merlin mention
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,314
Spoilers: 1x12
Warnings: possibly a weeeee bit OOC. I really tried, it’s just hard when they’re having a fight.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Merlin or its characters. If I did… it wouldn’t be a “family” show.
Summary: As a man comes to trial, Gwen and Arthur face the first of their own.
A/N: For camelot_love’s Help Haiti Thing-a-thon hosted by the selfless threemeows. robinmarian’s request was “Arthur and Gwen got into a marital fight over something. It was all Arthur’s fault in the first place. So now Arthur has to make amends. I want angst, fluff and smut? lmao"
Okay, so it’s not all Arthur’s fault, but he is the main perpetrator. Plus, I wasn’t sure if I could do it, but I got 3000+ words, bb!
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Gwen felt fingers brush against her arm.
“You’re up early again.”
She turned her head from the bedroom ceiling that she had been studying to her husband.
“I’m always up early. You know that.” And it was true. Three months as queen still haven’t changed that and Gwen wondered if her habit would ever be broken.
Arthur nodded drowsily. “Well go back to sleep.”
“I’ve been trying to.”
“And now you’re looking for something to do?”
Gwen sighed. Yes, she was. Mornings were always restless for Gwen, because she always felt like she should already be up and doing something long before a queen actually needed to wake. Arthur had once woken to her sewing a loose seam on one of her dresses, to his great amusement.
“I know something that can keep you busy,” Arthur whispered, pulling her onto her side to face him completely, so close to his bare body she could feel the heat radiating from him. (They had rarely slept in nightclothes since their wedding night.)
“You’re half asleep.”
“Am not.” His eyes were still closed, however.
Gwen reached out, wrapping her hand around his length. She felt his hand on her back stiffen as he groaned.
“Guinevere…”
“Are you awake yet?”
“Nearly.” He opened his eyes just enough to find her mouth and kiss her.
“You don’t look it,” she murmured.
“I’m up, I’m up,” he insisted groggily.
She squeezed her hand on him. “Part of you certainly is.”
She saw Arthur smirk at her cheekiness as he groaned again. “The part of me that counts,” he countered, before the hand on her back slid down to her knee, pulling her one leg up over his hip.
It was Gwen’s turn to groan as his fingers crept between her legs. Her left hand pulled his head closer to kiss him again as she scooted close enough to nearly be flush with his body.
Arthur needed no more invitation to remove his hand, letting Gwen guide him into her. They adjusted again, pressing closer to each other and breathing deeply. They had never made love in this position before, and although Gwen could already tell it would not allow as much movement, she also liked how intimate it seemed, being so close to Arthur.
There was also the fact that it better accommodated Arthur’s lethargy. Each movement was slow and deliberate, and Gwen didn’t mind being able to relish in each stroke of him inside her and every languid caress of Arthur’s hands. At some point Arthur stopped kissing her to suck on her shoulder, leaving her free to pant against him as she climbed and climbed…
Minutes after, they were still in each other’s arms, Arthur fast asleep again and drowsiness creeping up on Gwen once more.
---
Gwen rose a few hours later, careful not to disturb Arthur.
She picked out a dress - one with wide shoulders to cover the mark that Arthur had left on her - and pinned up her hair in a simple fashion. Her handmaid, Beth, would of course comment on that not needing to be done on Gwen’s own. But Beth would just have to accept it soon, as Gwen was always getting ready for the day long before the acceptable time for a noblewoman to be roused by a servant.
She went to her chambers where Beth was practically expecting her and began going over the harvest allocations. Gwen was newer to this particular task then some of the other jobs she had taken on as queen, but what she didn’t pick up naturally - such as listening to the petitioners - she learned.
She didn’t see Arthur again until before midmorning court, when she met him in his study.
“Morning, Guinevere. How are the plans for harvest coming?”
“Very well. We can go over them after court. And how was your morning?”
Arthur stepped closer, eyeing to make sure the door was closed when his manservant had left. “I woke up in a good mood, if that’s what you mean. I think it was the dream I had in the early morning…”
“Oh?” she asked, seeing the playful smirk on his face.
His fingers pushed aside the shoulder of her dress, revealing the edge of the mark he’d left. “Or maybe it wasn’t a dream,” he said lowly.
But a knock on the door interrupted them, signaling that court had assembled. They could only smile and exchange a quick kiss before entering the great hall.
Their good mood, however, was quickly doused as court began and Sir Leon gave the knights’ report from the evening hours, most notably an old man being found beaten to death in his home after the guards had been alerted by neighbors.
Gwen had always believed the people of Camelot to be a good, peaceful people, which made news of such occurrences upsetting to her, especially one as brutal as a man being beaten to death. It was not something unexpected from outlaws and barbarians, but from the citizens of Camelot? It disturbed her to think one of her own people had done that - even if they were just a bad apple.
It was something she must get used to as queen, she supposed, but that only made her more troubled. It weighed on her greatly throughout the rest of court and still into her meeting with Arthur.
They sat at his table, nearly finished with the harvest allocations, when Gwen heaved a sigh. Arthur, having noted her mood since court made an attempt to reassure her.
“Don’t worry, Guinevere. The killer will get what is deserved in his trial tomorrow.”
“Assuming the dead man’s neighbor is the killer,” she answered worriedly.
Arthur scoffed. “Of course he is. He was found standing over the body when the guards arrived.”
“And he told them he had just found the old man before they arrived.”
“Yet he was covered in his blood? And no one saw him enter the house once the yelling had started?”
“We were not there, Arthur; we cannot know for certain. Someone could have missed seeing him go in. And just how ‘covered’ in blood was he? Just from checking to see if the bloodied man was alive? People are prone to exaggeration. You should not assume his guilt before the trial has even begun.”
He stubbornly shook his head. “The guards and neighbors are in agreement. The man in custody clearly did it. The trial’s just a formality by now.”
Gwen paused, taking in a shaky breath. “Just a formality?”
Arthur shuffled some papers around and did not see her face. “Yes.”
“But what if the man is not guilty? What if the circumstances are merely against him? His life could be the difference between an open mind and one that’s already been made up!”
“Guinevere, I know it’s hard to believe that someone is capable of something like this, but the man clearly did it.”
“You don’t know that yet!”
“I know enough,” he answered testily.
Silence passed by them as Gwen recovered from the shock. “You should be careful, Arthur. You’re beginning to sound like your father,” she said lowly.
There was a beat more where Arthur just blinked at her. “My father was not perfect, but that doesn’t mean he was wrong about everything,” he ground out.
“Well he was wrong about plenty. I should know!”
“Just what do you know?”
Gwen stood up, disbelieving of his condescension and that he could so easily forget what she carried every day. “I know you’d best be careful or you’ll end up a tyrant just like Uther!”
“Guinevere -” he warned.
“Was I such a fool to think you’d turn out any different than him? Like father, like son, I suppose.”
Now Arthur stood up, clearly unable to take her prodding the eternally sore subject of his father any longer. “I should be happy to be as good a king as my father was!”
“The fact that you can say that disgusts me!”
“Guinevere!”
But she had already stormed out.
---
Whenever Arthur had needed advice about Gwen in the past, he’d gone to Merlin. And now, as Arthur’s luck had it, the one time Merlin might be needed most was when he wasn’t there. It was certainly the last time Arthur let Merlin go on some magical quest to do God knows what (which even though Merlin offered up the details, Arthur never understood them).
And what all of this meant was that Arthur was going to have to figure this one out on his own.
He knew he had to speak to her, to make it right… and probably apologize. He just had to bring himself to doing it. Pride wasn’t the issue here; pride has never been the issue with Guinevere. It was shame and fear that kept him from immediately seeking her out.
He and Gwen had never fought like this before. A few squabbles, but nothing detrimental. And Arthur had been living under the naïve hope that they might never fight. Now that they had, the former impression that they would never fight only made their dispute even more jarring.
Finally, Arthur realized that as much as he hated the fact that they had fought, he hated the idea of tension staying between them any longer than need be. He didn’t want their feelings to fester any longer. He’d just have to do something about it.
---
There was a chaise in the queen’s chambers that had gone entirely unused by Gwen. It was meant for relaxing and napping, as noblewoman were not only supposed to rise late but also take a mid-afternoon rest. Of course, Gwen never followed those rules and the chaise stood forgotten until that day.
She had rushed into her chambers, ignoring Beth’s startled inquiry on what was the matter, and lain down on the chaise, facing away from the door. Beth had blessedly understood that she wanted to be alone, quietly leaving and shutting the doors behind her.
That had been hours ago, Gwen realized as the light through the window grew paler.
She heard the door open and close, noticing the hesitancy in the slow, careful creak of the hinges. It was probably Beth, coming to ask if she would like her dinner (Gwen had missed lunch) or to just light candles so Gwen wasn’t left in the dark.
But it wasn’t Beth. It was Arthur.
He had rounded the chaise to face her, crouching down next to it to face her, one hand steadying himself on the edge, a few inches from her own hand.
Arthur looked at her briefly before lowering his eyes to watch his finger nervously scratch at the material of the chaise. “I realized… you were speaking of your father.”
“Took you this long?”
“Well some of the time was spent getting up the courage to apologize…”
Gwen scoffed.
“But I took too long, regardless. I know you can never forgive what happened to your father, how his guilt was decided long before trial. If he could have been guaranteed a fair trial, then I know he wouldn’t have tried to escape and he wouldn’t -” Arthur stopped himself, unable to mention his death in front of Gwen. “I’m sorry. I understand what you mean, now. And I promise to keep an open mind at the trial tomorrow.”
He looked at her, his eyes both a little hopeful and troubled. But she did not say anything to relieve him… Not yet.
Wetting his lips in response to her silence, he added a solemn admittance. “Sometimes I’m afraid that I’ll turn out like my father.”
“You said you would be happy to turn out like him,” she countered bitterly.
“Yes, I did. I admit I want to be like him in some ways, but in other ways it would scare me if that happened. My father had his good qualities. He was good at diplomacy and made many alliances. He kept us generally at peace. Camelot was safe, bar the occasional magical beast or evil sorcerer. Yet he… he could be so blind sometimes. I knew that about him even when I was young. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself for the longest time, because he was my father and my king. Someone who I was taught to respect and look up to.”
Gwen didn’t say anything, but Arthur’s searching eyes must have seen how her expression was softening.
“He taught me all my life, Guinevere. He taught me how to be just like him, so I would be a king like him. It’s what all kings do with their sons. And in many ways, I still model how I rule on how he did. I make some adjustments where I see fit, but his influence is there in how I hold court and carry out my duties because it is what I have always known. And that is all fine, because it has always been efficient that way. And I’m sure many of his ways are not his alone, but from multiple generations of kings.
“What I’ve realized, though, is that I can too easily slip from just modeling my father’s day-to-day duties as king to modeling his prejudice, or other bad qualities of his. That realization… it frightens me, Guinevere. I know you want me to be this kind, just king, and I want to be him as well. But wanting to be like that and actually succeeding is not the same thing. I’m still finding my footing as king and I’m going to make mistakes. So please… help me be the king I want to be. I’m going to need all the help I can get. From you and from Merlin… when he’s not gallivanting across the countryside…” Arthur waved his hand and rolled his eyes at this, making Gwen smile just a little.
Arthur seemed to take her smile as a good sign. “Can you forgive me?” he whispered.
Guinevere nodded slowly. “If you can forgive me as well.”
“There’s nothing for me to forgive,” Arthur said quickly, shaking his head.
“I may have… overreacted. Your father wasn’t really a tyrant. He just…”
“Made many, many mistakes. I know. I know you can never forget the injustice towards your father. And I should be more careful that such a thing never happens again.”
“I know you’re trying. I cannot expect you to be perfect.”
“But I want to be. For you, if for nothing else.”
“And I know you will come very close. Just give it time.”
Arthur was smiling hesitantly, making Gwen’s hand span the few inches to stroke his.
“I know it’s not easy to be king. But if anyone could do it, it’s you.”
He sighed. “You have such faith in me, Gwen. I don’t think I deserve it.”
“It’s your heart, Arthur.”
His hand rose up to cup Gwen’s cheek. “Are we… better now?”
Gwen bites her lip before answering, “yes.”
---
The next day Gwen went down to the fields to go over the harvest plans with the farmers, spending most of the day away from the castle and away from Arthur. And strangely, she was glad to be away from him.
Despite making up, awkwardness still lingered between Gwen and Arthur through the next day. Because the fact remained that they had fought, really fought, for the first time and it had hung in the air around them since. They had exchanged apologies with every sincerity, but that didn’t ease the tension from not knowing how to just return to normalcy as if the fight had never happened. Instead they were both overly careful in their interactions, tiptoeing around each other as if to not upset the other. Gwen could only hope that they would relax again, and soon, so they could go back to the way they were two days before.
Gwen was lying down in bed, but not yet asleep, when Arthur came into their room that night.
“How was your day?” he asked her amicably as he climbed into bed next to her.
“Good. The harvest plans are proceeding smoothly. And how was your day?”
Gwen saw Arthur’s shoulders grow tense and she immediately regretted the question since one of his duties that day included the subject of their fight.
Instead of avoiding the subject, Arthur approached it head on, with all honesty.
“The man was found guilty,” he said regretfully. “The victim was known to owe him a lot of money. And once the man’s clothing from that night was brought out with blood all over and his raw knuckles were shown to court from beating the old man, there was no mistake. The man did not even plead his innocence in the end; he knew he was caught.” Arthur swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry, Guinevere.”
She nodded against her pillow. “I did not expect his innocence, in all honestly. I just wanted him to see a fair trial.”
They sat in silence a moment longer until Arthur, not knowing what to say reached over to blow out the last candle on his bedside table. He then lay down facing her so that they stared into each other’s faces in the dark.
He finally broke the silence as he inched closer. “Are we alright now?”
“Of course we are, Arthur.”
“I mean… are we the same as before?”
Gwen worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She knew what he meant. “I want to be.”
“Then why aren’t we?”
“I think it’s just because we never fought before,” she sighed. “It’s different, knowing that we can fight.”
“Well let’s never fight again.”
“You know we will.”
“What if I just agree with everything you ever say?”
“And what if I’m wrong?”
“You’re never wrong.”
“Don’t make us fight about whether or not I can be wrong sometimes,” she chided playfully.
She saw Arthur’s grin through the dark and she scooted closer to him. He then reached out to pull her closer with his hand on the small of her back.
“So we’re alright now.”
“Yes,” she breathed against his lips as he leaned forward.
He kissed her tenderly, like most of their first kisses had been when he was careful to not take it any further than was proper. But now he was careful for another reason.
Gwen reached for the back of his head to pull him tighter against her, deepening the kiss as she responded and letting him know it was okay. With her other hand she fumbled with the ties to loosen her nightdress. She helped him as she felt his hands pull up the hem of her skirt, lifting her hips and bringing it over her head. Then they worked on his sleeping trousers, her pushing and him kicking them off.
She slung her leg over his hip, pulling them into the same position as two mornings ago: lying side-by-side. But this time it was not to accommodate their lethargy. Gwen wanted to have him close to her, wanted the intimacy she had discovered this position had for them.
Arthur was kissing her neck as his hand ran over her thigh and bum. Their bodies rubbed against each other, Gwen gasping as she felt him graze against her center over and over again.
“I love you,” he whispered. His voice was rough, but Gwen could hear that it was from more than just lust.
“I know,” she soothed, stroking his hair. They needed this reaffirmation after their fight. “I love you, too.”
They moaned together as he pushed in, clutching onto each other like they were afraid they might lose the other. His mouth dusted over her temple as she pressed her face into his neck.
Everything melted away from Gwen while in Arthur’s arms, knowing that they had survived their first trial and that they could survive many more.
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A/N: So starting out I had been wanting to make this even more angsty, with making Gwen have serious doubts that Arthur could be the king she wanted him to be (although faith would be restored, of course). But then a) it just plain wasn’t happening for me without going OOC or something and b) threemeow’s My Son, My Own Telemachus was finished and I decided there’s enough angst in the A/G & Merlin-verse at the moment (not that I don’t still love threemeows fics!) and I don’t want to break robinmarian!
I'm still working on yours, threemeows! I have midterms this week, but it should hopefully be soon!
Show: Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Gwen/Arthur, Merlin mention
Rating: R
Word Count: 3,314
Spoilers: 1x12
Warnings: possibly a weeeee bit OOC. I really tried, it’s just hard when they’re having a fight.
Disclaimer: I don’t own Merlin or its characters. If I did… it wouldn’t be a “family” show.
Summary: As a man comes to trial, Gwen and Arthur face the first of their own.
A/N: For camelot_love’s Help Haiti Thing-a-thon hosted by the selfless threemeows. robinmarian’s request was “Arthur and Gwen got into a marital fight over something. It was all Arthur’s fault in the first place. So now Arthur has to make amends. I want angst, fluff and smut? lmao"
Okay, so it’s not all Arthur’s fault, but he is the main perpetrator. Plus, I wasn’t sure if I could do it, but I got 3000+ words, bb!
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Gwen felt fingers brush against her arm.
“You’re up early again.”
She turned her head from the bedroom ceiling that she had been studying to her husband.
“I’m always up early. You know that.” And it was true. Three months as queen still haven’t changed that and Gwen wondered if her habit would ever be broken.
Arthur nodded drowsily. “Well go back to sleep.”
“I’ve been trying to.”
“And now you’re looking for something to do?”
Gwen sighed. Yes, she was. Mornings were always restless for Gwen, because she always felt like she should already be up and doing something long before a queen actually needed to wake. Arthur had once woken to her sewing a loose seam on one of her dresses, to his great amusement.
“I know something that can keep you busy,” Arthur whispered, pulling her onto her side to face him completely, so close to his bare body she could feel the heat radiating from him. (They had rarely slept in nightclothes since their wedding night.)
“You’re half asleep.”
“Am not.” His eyes were still closed, however.
Gwen reached out, wrapping her hand around his length. She felt his hand on her back stiffen as he groaned.
“Guinevere…”
“Are you awake yet?”
“Nearly.” He opened his eyes just enough to find her mouth and kiss her.
“You don’t look it,” she murmured.
“I’m up, I’m up,” he insisted groggily.
She squeezed her hand on him. “Part of you certainly is.”
She saw Arthur smirk at her cheekiness as he groaned again. “The part of me that counts,” he countered, before the hand on her back slid down to her knee, pulling her one leg up over his hip.
It was Gwen’s turn to groan as his fingers crept between her legs. Her left hand pulled his head closer to kiss him again as she scooted close enough to nearly be flush with his body.
Arthur needed no more invitation to remove his hand, letting Gwen guide him into her. They adjusted again, pressing closer to each other and breathing deeply. They had never made love in this position before, and although Gwen could already tell it would not allow as much movement, she also liked how intimate it seemed, being so close to Arthur.
There was also the fact that it better accommodated Arthur’s lethargy. Each movement was slow and deliberate, and Gwen didn’t mind being able to relish in each stroke of him inside her and every languid caress of Arthur’s hands. At some point Arthur stopped kissing her to suck on her shoulder, leaving her free to pant against him as she climbed and climbed…
Minutes after, they were still in each other’s arms, Arthur fast asleep again and drowsiness creeping up on Gwen once more.
---
Gwen rose a few hours later, careful not to disturb Arthur.
She picked out a dress - one with wide shoulders to cover the mark that Arthur had left on her - and pinned up her hair in a simple fashion. Her handmaid, Beth, would of course comment on that not needing to be done on Gwen’s own. But Beth would just have to accept it soon, as Gwen was always getting ready for the day long before the acceptable time for a noblewoman to be roused by a servant.
She went to her chambers where Beth was practically expecting her and began going over the harvest allocations. Gwen was newer to this particular task then some of the other jobs she had taken on as queen, but what she didn’t pick up naturally - such as listening to the petitioners - she learned.
She didn’t see Arthur again until before midmorning court, when she met him in his study.
“Morning, Guinevere. How are the plans for harvest coming?”
“Very well. We can go over them after court. And how was your morning?”
Arthur stepped closer, eyeing to make sure the door was closed when his manservant had left. “I woke up in a good mood, if that’s what you mean. I think it was the dream I had in the early morning…”
“Oh?” she asked, seeing the playful smirk on his face.
His fingers pushed aside the shoulder of her dress, revealing the edge of the mark he’d left. “Or maybe it wasn’t a dream,” he said lowly.
But a knock on the door interrupted them, signaling that court had assembled. They could only smile and exchange a quick kiss before entering the great hall.
Their good mood, however, was quickly doused as court began and Sir Leon gave the knights’ report from the evening hours, most notably an old man being found beaten to death in his home after the guards had been alerted by neighbors.
Gwen had always believed the people of Camelot to be a good, peaceful people, which made news of such occurrences upsetting to her, especially one as brutal as a man being beaten to death. It was not something unexpected from outlaws and barbarians, but from the citizens of Camelot? It disturbed her to think one of her own people had done that - even if they were just a bad apple.
It was something she must get used to as queen, she supposed, but that only made her more troubled. It weighed on her greatly throughout the rest of court and still into her meeting with Arthur.
They sat at his table, nearly finished with the harvest allocations, when Gwen heaved a sigh. Arthur, having noted her mood since court made an attempt to reassure her.
“Don’t worry, Guinevere. The killer will get what is deserved in his trial tomorrow.”
“Assuming the dead man’s neighbor is the killer,” she answered worriedly.
Arthur scoffed. “Of course he is. He was found standing over the body when the guards arrived.”
“And he told them he had just found the old man before they arrived.”
“Yet he was covered in his blood? And no one saw him enter the house once the yelling had started?”
“We were not there, Arthur; we cannot know for certain. Someone could have missed seeing him go in. And just how ‘covered’ in blood was he? Just from checking to see if the bloodied man was alive? People are prone to exaggeration. You should not assume his guilt before the trial has even begun.”
He stubbornly shook his head. “The guards and neighbors are in agreement. The man in custody clearly did it. The trial’s just a formality by now.”
Gwen paused, taking in a shaky breath. “Just a formality?”
Arthur shuffled some papers around and did not see her face. “Yes.”
“But what if the man is not guilty? What if the circumstances are merely against him? His life could be the difference between an open mind and one that’s already been made up!”
“Guinevere, I know it’s hard to believe that someone is capable of something like this, but the man clearly did it.”
“You don’t know that yet!”
“I know enough,” he answered testily.
Silence passed by them as Gwen recovered from the shock. “You should be careful, Arthur. You’re beginning to sound like your father,” she said lowly.
There was a beat more where Arthur just blinked at her. “My father was not perfect, but that doesn’t mean he was wrong about everything,” he ground out.
“Well he was wrong about plenty. I should know!”
“Just what do you know?”
Gwen stood up, disbelieving of his condescension and that he could so easily forget what she carried every day. “I know you’d best be careful or you’ll end up a tyrant just like Uther!”
“Guinevere -” he warned.
“Was I such a fool to think you’d turn out any different than him? Like father, like son, I suppose.”
Now Arthur stood up, clearly unable to take her prodding the eternally sore subject of his father any longer. “I should be happy to be as good a king as my father was!”
“The fact that you can say that disgusts me!”
“Guinevere!”
But she had already stormed out.
---
Whenever Arthur had needed advice about Gwen in the past, he’d gone to Merlin. And now, as Arthur’s luck had it, the one time Merlin might be needed most was when he wasn’t there. It was certainly the last time Arthur let Merlin go on some magical quest to do God knows what (which even though Merlin offered up the details, Arthur never understood them).
And what all of this meant was that Arthur was going to have to figure this one out on his own.
He knew he had to speak to her, to make it right… and probably apologize. He just had to bring himself to doing it. Pride wasn’t the issue here; pride has never been the issue with Guinevere. It was shame and fear that kept him from immediately seeking her out.
He and Gwen had never fought like this before. A few squabbles, but nothing detrimental. And Arthur had been living under the naïve hope that they might never fight. Now that they had, the former impression that they would never fight only made their dispute even more jarring.
Finally, Arthur realized that as much as he hated the fact that they had fought, he hated the idea of tension staying between them any longer than need be. He didn’t want their feelings to fester any longer. He’d just have to do something about it.
---
There was a chaise in the queen’s chambers that had gone entirely unused by Gwen. It was meant for relaxing and napping, as noblewoman were not only supposed to rise late but also take a mid-afternoon rest. Of course, Gwen never followed those rules and the chaise stood forgotten until that day.
She had rushed into her chambers, ignoring Beth’s startled inquiry on what was the matter, and lain down on the chaise, facing away from the door. Beth had blessedly understood that she wanted to be alone, quietly leaving and shutting the doors behind her.
That had been hours ago, Gwen realized as the light through the window grew paler.
She heard the door open and close, noticing the hesitancy in the slow, careful creak of the hinges. It was probably Beth, coming to ask if she would like her dinner (Gwen had missed lunch) or to just light candles so Gwen wasn’t left in the dark.
But it wasn’t Beth. It was Arthur.
He had rounded the chaise to face her, crouching down next to it to face her, one hand steadying himself on the edge, a few inches from her own hand.
Arthur looked at her briefly before lowering his eyes to watch his finger nervously scratch at the material of the chaise. “I realized… you were speaking of your father.”
“Took you this long?”
“Well some of the time was spent getting up the courage to apologize…”
Gwen scoffed.
“But I took too long, regardless. I know you can never forgive what happened to your father, how his guilt was decided long before trial. If he could have been guaranteed a fair trial, then I know he wouldn’t have tried to escape and he wouldn’t -” Arthur stopped himself, unable to mention his death in front of Gwen. “I’m sorry. I understand what you mean, now. And I promise to keep an open mind at the trial tomorrow.”
He looked at her, his eyes both a little hopeful and troubled. But she did not say anything to relieve him… Not yet.
Wetting his lips in response to her silence, he added a solemn admittance. “Sometimes I’m afraid that I’ll turn out like my father.”
“You said you would be happy to turn out like him,” she countered bitterly.
“Yes, I did. I admit I want to be like him in some ways, but in other ways it would scare me if that happened. My father had his good qualities. He was good at diplomacy and made many alliances. He kept us generally at peace. Camelot was safe, bar the occasional magical beast or evil sorcerer. Yet he… he could be so blind sometimes. I knew that about him even when I was young. I just didn’t want to admit it to myself for the longest time, because he was my father and my king. Someone who I was taught to respect and look up to.”
Gwen didn’t say anything, but Arthur’s searching eyes must have seen how her expression was softening.
“He taught me all my life, Guinevere. He taught me how to be just like him, so I would be a king like him. It’s what all kings do with their sons. And in many ways, I still model how I rule on how he did. I make some adjustments where I see fit, but his influence is there in how I hold court and carry out my duties because it is what I have always known. And that is all fine, because it has always been efficient that way. And I’m sure many of his ways are not his alone, but from multiple generations of kings.
“What I’ve realized, though, is that I can too easily slip from just modeling my father’s day-to-day duties as king to modeling his prejudice, or other bad qualities of his. That realization… it frightens me, Guinevere. I know you want me to be this kind, just king, and I want to be him as well. But wanting to be like that and actually succeeding is not the same thing. I’m still finding my footing as king and I’m going to make mistakes. So please… help me be the king I want to be. I’m going to need all the help I can get. From you and from Merlin… when he’s not gallivanting across the countryside…” Arthur waved his hand and rolled his eyes at this, making Gwen smile just a little.
Arthur seemed to take her smile as a good sign. “Can you forgive me?” he whispered.
Guinevere nodded slowly. “If you can forgive me as well.”
“There’s nothing for me to forgive,” Arthur said quickly, shaking his head.
“I may have… overreacted. Your father wasn’t really a tyrant. He just…”
“Made many, many mistakes. I know. I know you can never forget the injustice towards your father. And I should be more careful that such a thing never happens again.”
“I know you’re trying. I cannot expect you to be perfect.”
“But I want to be. For you, if for nothing else.”
“And I know you will come very close. Just give it time.”
Arthur was smiling hesitantly, making Gwen’s hand span the few inches to stroke his.
“I know it’s not easy to be king. But if anyone could do it, it’s you.”
He sighed. “You have such faith in me, Gwen. I don’t think I deserve it.”
“It’s your heart, Arthur.”
His hand rose up to cup Gwen’s cheek. “Are we… better now?”
Gwen bites her lip before answering, “yes.”
---
The next day Gwen went down to the fields to go over the harvest plans with the farmers, spending most of the day away from the castle and away from Arthur. And strangely, she was glad to be away from him.
Despite making up, awkwardness still lingered between Gwen and Arthur through the next day. Because the fact remained that they had fought, really fought, for the first time and it had hung in the air around them since. They had exchanged apologies with every sincerity, but that didn’t ease the tension from not knowing how to just return to normalcy as if the fight had never happened. Instead they were both overly careful in their interactions, tiptoeing around each other as if to not upset the other. Gwen could only hope that they would relax again, and soon, so they could go back to the way they were two days before.
Gwen was lying down in bed, but not yet asleep, when Arthur came into their room that night.
“How was your day?” he asked her amicably as he climbed into bed next to her.
“Good. The harvest plans are proceeding smoothly. And how was your day?”
Gwen saw Arthur’s shoulders grow tense and she immediately regretted the question since one of his duties that day included the subject of their fight.
Instead of avoiding the subject, Arthur approached it head on, with all honesty.
“The man was found guilty,” he said regretfully. “The victim was known to owe him a lot of money. And once the man’s clothing from that night was brought out with blood all over and his raw knuckles were shown to court from beating the old man, there was no mistake. The man did not even plead his innocence in the end; he knew he was caught.” Arthur swallowed thickly. “I’m sorry, Guinevere.”
She nodded against her pillow. “I did not expect his innocence, in all honestly. I just wanted him to see a fair trial.”
They sat in silence a moment longer until Arthur, not knowing what to say reached over to blow out the last candle on his bedside table. He then lay down facing her so that they stared into each other’s faces in the dark.
He finally broke the silence as he inched closer. “Are we alright now?”
“Of course we are, Arthur.”
“I mean… are we the same as before?”
Gwen worried her bottom lip between her teeth. She knew what he meant. “I want to be.”
“Then why aren’t we?”
“I think it’s just because we never fought before,” she sighed. “It’s different, knowing that we can fight.”
“Well let’s never fight again.”
“You know we will.”
“What if I just agree with everything you ever say?”
“And what if I’m wrong?”
“You’re never wrong.”
“Don’t make us fight about whether or not I can be wrong sometimes,” she chided playfully.
She saw Arthur’s grin through the dark and she scooted closer to him. He then reached out to pull her closer with his hand on the small of her back.
“So we’re alright now.”
“Yes,” she breathed against his lips as he leaned forward.
He kissed her tenderly, like most of their first kisses had been when he was careful to not take it any further than was proper. But now he was careful for another reason.
Gwen reached for the back of his head to pull him tighter against her, deepening the kiss as she responded and letting him know it was okay. With her other hand she fumbled with the ties to loosen her nightdress. She helped him as she felt his hands pull up the hem of her skirt, lifting her hips and bringing it over her head. Then they worked on his sleeping trousers, her pushing and him kicking them off.
She slung her leg over his hip, pulling them into the same position as two mornings ago: lying side-by-side. But this time it was not to accommodate their lethargy. Gwen wanted to have him close to her, wanted the intimacy she had discovered this position had for them.
Arthur was kissing her neck as his hand ran over her thigh and bum. Their bodies rubbed against each other, Gwen gasping as she felt him graze against her center over and over again.
“I love you,” he whispered. His voice was rough, but Gwen could hear that it was from more than just lust.
“I know,” she soothed, stroking his hair. They needed this reaffirmation after their fight. “I love you, too.”
They moaned together as he pushed in, clutching onto each other like they were afraid they might lose the other. His mouth dusted over her temple as she pressed her face into his neck.
Everything melted away from Gwen while in Arthur’s arms, knowing that they had survived their first trial and that they could survive many more.
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A/N: So starting out I had been wanting to make this even more angsty, with making Gwen have serious doubts that Arthur could be the king she wanted him to be (although faith would be restored, of course). But then a) it just plain wasn’t happening for me without going OOC or something and b) threemeow’s My Son, My Own Telemachus was finished and I decided there’s enough angst in the A/G & Merlin-verse at the moment (not that I don’t still love threemeows fics!) and I don’t want to break robinmarian!
I'm still working on yours, threemeows! I have midterms this week, but it should hopefully be soon!