Fic: Transition
Title: Transition
Show: Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Gwen/Arthur
Rating: R, to be safe
Word Count: 1746
Disclaimer: I obviously don’t own.
Warnings: fluff & some possible cliché-ness.
Summary: After months of wrestling with his feelings for Gwen, Arthur does something about it.
A/N: So 65% of this has been sitting on my computer for months, as part of what I had been planning to be a multi-chapter… but I lack the discipline to do very long multi-parters (or anything more than a one-shot, quite often). Plus with S2 coming up & my failure at making this into anything…. I figured I’d finish it to be slightly comprehensible, slap it up, & see how it goes. Like many things, I’m not as confident about it as I had been when I’d written most of it... but don’t let my self-criticism scare you off!
llllllllll
Gwen entered the Prince’s room cautiously, making sure to stand very close to the door.
“You sent for Lady Morgana’s handmaid?”
Arthur looked up. “No. I sent for Guinevere.” He stood and walked towards her. “I wish to speak to you.”
Gwen took steps to her side to avoid proximity to him as he closed the door. “Have any services of mine been unsatisfactory, sire?” Gwen could only hope that this was his reason.
“Don’t play stupid, Guinevere. You know it’s got nothing to do with that.”
Gwen pressed her lips together to silence herself, something that was near instinctive from her life as a servant.
Arthur took a deep breath. “It is like you have infected me, Guinevere.-”
“Infected?” she asked, although he did not seem to hear.
“-And now it is if I have some sort of infliction. I suffer daily. My thoughts stray to you, despite my efforts. I cannot rid myself of you. It is incurable.” He finished bitterly.
“You mean to wish that I would quit my service as a handmaiden, sire? So you would not be reminded of me?”
This got Arthur’s attention. “No,” he baffled. “I merely wish to express the...” he wet his lips, trying to choose the right word, “undeniable feelings I have been experiencing.”
Gwen took a deep breath, unable to fathom what he was saying.
“Do you have any feelings toward me, Guinevere?” he asked, his eyes boring into her.
Gwen was at a near loss of words. “I am… not apathetic, sire.”
Arthur scoffed. “Are you being difficult on purpose?” Arthur’s temper began to mount, evident in his rising voice. “You could be a bit more descriptive. Annoyed? Disgusted?”
“Confused!” she interjected.
“Confused by me?” he asked more softly.
She addressed the area to his right, unable to look at him, her fingers curling and uncurling in anxiety. “Yes, and…” Gwen couldn’t bring herself to finish her thought: that she was confused by her own feelings for him. Gwen took a breath to start again. “You are the Crown Prince. And I…” she laughed at the ridiculousness of it, “am a handmaid.”
“That is true,” he answered, his voice on edge. “Yet that doesn’t seem to keep me from feeling this way, Guinevere.”
Gwen risked looking up at his eyes. He was right in front of her now. How had she let him get so close to her?
“Why do you always call me that?” she asked, annoyed.
“What?”
“You always use my full name. ‘Guinevere.’”
“Because it’s pretty and I like saying it.” He made a small, sly smile and added, “…Guinevere.” He sounded each syllable with care.
Gwen tried to ignore the pleasant way his voice formed her name. “Well, stop,” she said, then adding “Please, sire.” She attempted to move past him, but Arthur put out his arm to stop her.
“You like it when I call you that. I can tell.” He tilted his chin, staring her down, although she still avoided his eyes.
Unable to deny it, Gwen sighed. “And that is why you shouldn’t address me so.”
“Because you don’t think you should be allowed such a pleasure?
“Because it makes it more difficult for me!” With that, she pushed past him for the door.
Arthur panicked as her hand reached the handle. “I love you,” he called back forcibly.
Gwen paused and shook her head faintly. “Don’t say that.”
“I will say whatever I want to say. And that includes how much I love and respect you.”
Gwen’s eyes flitted up to his. “Respect?” she asked quietly.
“Is that so hard to believe? That I could respect a servant?”
If Gwen were to answer with perfect honesty, she would have said ‘yes.’
“Well I respect Merlin, because he stands up to me. Much the way you once did. You are strong and wise. And you have faith in me, although I cannot comprehend why.”
“Plenty of people have faith in you. Merlin -“
“Well Merlin’s not as pretty as you,” he teased. Then he reached up to smooth a curl at the side of her face. “There are other reasons, too,” he continued softly. “Reasons I can’t explain.”
Gwen let herself close her eyes, reveling in the feel of him stroking that one patch of skin.
“Guinevere,” he whispered like a prayer.
She sensed him lean toward her and felt his breath on her face. He was too close now. And now that she had closed her eyes, she was too afraid to open them back up and see his face so near her.
Finally she felt the gentle brush of his lips on her mouth. It lasted just seconds and then as he pulled away, Gwen opened her eyes.
Arthur’s hand now cradled her head, thumb still stroking the one spot by her ear. His gaze remained steady on her, his eyes a deep shade of blue. The way he looked at her frightened her beyond a doubt. But it also thrilled her in a way she’d never felt before.
“Do you return any of my feelings? In even the smallest amount?” he asked earnestly.
“Yes,” she breathed. “But we… this - can never…” Her voice failed her. Her head told her that this could never end well, but her heart didn’t want to listen to reason. And despite her words, Gwen tilted her chin up towards him, unconsciously searching out another kiss.
Arthur’s eyes darted over her face, recognizing the fear in her eyes, much the way he felt, and also the subtle way she held her mouth. He could tell that she wanted him to kiss her. But she was afraid.
Afraid of what she was getting herself into. Perhaps afraid of his intentions. Or unsure if he truly felt that strongly or was misinterpreting his feelings. She was afraid of getting hurt. And the only thing he worried about more than hurting himself was hurting her. He was used to getting himself into trouble; but he hated nothing more than when others paid the consequences.
Yet, his eyes fell on her parted mouth and he swallowed. Perhaps if he put his other hand there, on her waist, she would not mind? And if he tried to bring her close, she wouldn’t pull away? When he lowers his head, might she tilt her chin up to meet him? The surprising answers to his questions were yes.
He saw as she drew her bottom lip in to wet it. Then she slowly brought her hands up to his chest. Last was the slight angle to one side which she turned her head. Whether she realized it or not, these were invitations.
This time when he kissed her, she did not stay frozen from fear, but instead returned the kiss. And her response to him caused a moan to surface from the back of his throat, which only seemed to encourage her.
It was she who first dared to progress to using her tongue, and Arthur let her into his mouth without hesitation. She then lifted onto her toes for a better vantage, so he decided to hold her against him and she gave no protest, sliding her hands up to his shoulders for support and willingly pressing her chest to him.
He broke from her lips to kiss the tanned skin he’d been admiring for months, his mouth fitting into the junction of her neck and shoulder.
“Sire,” she breathed lowly.
“Considering the circumstance,” he whispered between kisses as he worked back up to her ear, “you can call me by name.”
Gwen blushed - although he luckily didn’t see it - embarrassed that she had still addressed him by a title. It was what she was used to doing, after all.
She moaned softly as he nipped the soft skin beneath her lobe. “Arthur,” she answered, her breath hitched, reveling in the effortlessness that she said it.
She heard him hum a pleased response to his name and he paused his kisses across her shoulder. “To be clear, always call me by name. It sounds so much better coming from you.”
So she smiled, deciding that she loved being able to say his name almost more than he liked hearing it from her and said it again.
Gwen laced her fingers into his hair, the way she had shamefully fantasized of doing for years, and lifted him back to her lips.
“We should stop,” Gwen panted after several minutes.
Arthur nodded quickly, replying between kisses. “We will. - For eating. - Sleeping.”
Gwen gave a small laugh, which was muffled against his mouth. And she couldn’t help but instinctively push her body toward him.
Her movement did not help matters as she gently rubbed against him, but she did not back down at his body’s response to her. He actually felt her lips pull into a small smile, apparently pleased with herself, so he did not discourage her at first…
“Maybe you’re right,” he gasped finally. “We should stop.” He knew where this could very easily go, especially with his bed just a few feet away. But he couldn’t help but continue kissing her, her only reply a mumbled ‘Mmhmm’ against his lips.
Perhaps she wanted to…
But they shouldn’t… They probably shouldn’t… No, they really shouldn’t. At least not until they’ve figured a few things out first. She deserved that.
He pulled away from her, groaning at the loss of contact. Without opening his eyes, he tilted his head back and forced his breath out through his teeth, trying to calm himself.
“Hold on a second,” he said, his voice rough.
Gwen blushed, feeling guilty over his discomfort. She was hardly used to this sort of thing.
“I suppose we should… talk,” he continued.
Reality crashed back into her at his words. “Yes, we should.” She worried her lips for a moment as reason returned to her mind, previously cloudy with desire. “But not tonight. I need to… think on this.”
Arthur nodded, his breathing still a little ragged. “Okay. That’s fair.”
Gwen reached out to her side for the door handle, feeling for it as her eyes remained on Arthur.
“Good night,” she whispered.
Arthur took her face in his hands again, kissing her firmly. An extra reminder, he figured, to sway her from thinking too bloody much with her head.
“Sleep well,” he murmured.
That, she thought as his parting words echoed back to her on her walk home, would be damned near impossible.
llllllllll
A/N 2: I distinctly remember writing the beginning and at some point thinking it sounded a bit like Mr. Darcy’s proposal (in that he's almost insulting her, & not the most romantic of things to say, etc). But I suppose there are more parallels than one, being that Arthur is often too Proud and Guinevere might be a tad Prejudiced against him.
Show: Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Gwen/Arthur
Rating: R, to be safe
Word Count: 1746
Disclaimer: I obviously don’t own.
Warnings: fluff & some possible cliché-ness.
Summary: After months of wrestling with his feelings for Gwen, Arthur does something about it.
A/N: So 65% of this has been sitting on my computer for months, as part of what I had been planning to be a multi-chapter… but I lack the discipline to do very long multi-parters (or anything more than a one-shot, quite often). Plus with S2 coming up & my failure at making this into anything…. I figured I’d finish it to be slightly comprehensible, slap it up, & see how it goes. Like many things, I’m not as confident about it as I had been when I’d written most of it... but don’t let my self-criticism scare you off!
llllllllll
Gwen entered the Prince’s room cautiously, making sure to stand very close to the door.
“You sent for Lady Morgana’s handmaid?”
Arthur looked up. “No. I sent for Guinevere.” He stood and walked towards her. “I wish to speak to you.”
Gwen took steps to her side to avoid proximity to him as he closed the door. “Have any services of mine been unsatisfactory, sire?” Gwen could only hope that this was his reason.
“Don’t play stupid, Guinevere. You know it’s got nothing to do with that.”
Gwen pressed her lips together to silence herself, something that was near instinctive from her life as a servant.
Arthur took a deep breath. “It is like you have infected me, Guinevere.-”
“Infected?” she asked, although he did not seem to hear.
“-And now it is if I have some sort of infliction. I suffer daily. My thoughts stray to you, despite my efforts. I cannot rid myself of you. It is incurable.” He finished bitterly.
“You mean to wish that I would quit my service as a handmaiden, sire? So you would not be reminded of me?”
This got Arthur’s attention. “No,” he baffled. “I merely wish to express the...” he wet his lips, trying to choose the right word, “undeniable feelings I have been experiencing.”
Gwen took a deep breath, unable to fathom what he was saying.
“Do you have any feelings toward me, Guinevere?” he asked, his eyes boring into her.
Gwen was at a near loss of words. “I am… not apathetic, sire.”
Arthur scoffed. “Are you being difficult on purpose?” Arthur’s temper began to mount, evident in his rising voice. “You could be a bit more descriptive. Annoyed? Disgusted?”
“Confused!” she interjected.
“Confused by me?” he asked more softly.
She addressed the area to his right, unable to look at him, her fingers curling and uncurling in anxiety. “Yes, and…” Gwen couldn’t bring herself to finish her thought: that she was confused by her own feelings for him. Gwen took a breath to start again. “You are the Crown Prince. And I…” she laughed at the ridiculousness of it, “am a handmaid.”
“That is true,” he answered, his voice on edge. “Yet that doesn’t seem to keep me from feeling this way, Guinevere.”
Gwen risked looking up at his eyes. He was right in front of her now. How had she let him get so close to her?
“Why do you always call me that?” she asked, annoyed.
“What?”
“You always use my full name. ‘Guinevere.’”
“Because it’s pretty and I like saying it.” He made a small, sly smile and added, “…Guinevere.” He sounded each syllable with care.
Gwen tried to ignore the pleasant way his voice formed her name. “Well, stop,” she said, then adding “Please, sire.” She attempted to move past him, but Arthur put out his arm to stop her.
“You like it when I call you that. I can tell.” He tilted his chin, staring her down, although she still avoided his eyes.
Unable to deny it, Gwen sighed. “And that is why you shouldn’t address me so.”
“Because you don’t think you should be allowed such a pleasure?
“Because it makes it more difficult for me!” With that, she pushed past him for the door.
Arthur panicked as her hand reached the handle. “I love you,” he called back forcibly.
Gwen paused and shook her head faintly. “Don’t say that.”
“I will say whatever I want to say. And that includes how much I love and respect you.”
Gwen’s eyes flitted up to his. “Respect?” she asked quietly.
“Is that so hard to believe? That I could respect a servant?”
If Gwen were to answer with perfect honesty, she would have said ‘yes.’
“Well I respect Merlin, because he stands up to me. Much the way you once did. You are strong and wise. And you have faith in me, although I cannot comprehend why.”
“Plenty of people have faith in you. Merlin -“
“Well Merlin’s not as pretty as you,” he teased. Then he reached up to smooth a curl at the side of her face. “There are other reasons, too,” he continued softly. “Reasons I can’t explain.”
Gwen let herself close her eyes, reveling in the feel of him stroking that one patch of skin.
“Guinevere,” he whispered like a prayer.
She sensed him lean toward her and felt his breath on her face. He was too close now. And now that she had closed her eyes, she was too afraid to open them back up and see his face so near her.
Finally she felt the gentle brush of his lips on her mouth. It lasted just seconds and then as he pulled away, Gwen opened her eyes.
Arthur’s hand now cradled her head, thumb still stroking the one spot by her ear. His gaze remained steady on her, his eyes a deep shade of blue. The way he looked at her frightened her beyond a doubt. But it also thrilled her in a way she’d never felt before.
“Do you return any of my feelings? In even the smallest amount?” he asked earnestly.
“Yes,” she breathed. “But we… this - can never…” Her voice failed her. Her head told her that this could never end well, but her heart didn’t want to listen to reason. And despite her words, Gwen tilted her chin up towards him, unconsciously searching out another kiss.
Arthur’s eyes darted over her face, recognizing the fear in her eyes, much the way he felt, and also the subtle way she held her mouth. He could tell that she wanted him to kiss her. But she was afraid.
Afraid of what she was getting herself into. Perhaps afraid of his intentions. Or unsure if he truly felt that strongly or was misinterpreting his feelings. She was afraid of getting hurt. And the only thing he worried about more than hurting himself was hurting her. He was used to getting himself into trouble; but he hated nothing more than when others paid the consequences.
Yet, his eyes fell on her parted mouth and he swallowed. Perhaps if he put his other hand there, on her waist, she would not mind? And if he tried to bring her close, she wouldn’t pull away? When he lowers his head, might she tilt her chin up to meet him? The surprising answers to his questions were yes.
He saw as she drew her bottom lip in to wet it. Then she slowly brought her hands up to his chest. Last was the slight angle to one side which she turned her head. Whether she realized it or not, these were invitations.
This time when he kissed her, she did not stay frozen from fear, but instead returned the kiss. And her response to him caused a moan to surface from the back of his throat, which only seemed to encourage her.
It was she who first dared to progress to using her tongue, and Arthur let her into his mouth without hesitation. She then lifted onto her toes for a better vantage, so he decided to hold her against him and she gave no protest, sliding her hands up to his shoulders for support and willingly pressing her chest to him.
He broke from her lips to kiss the tanned skin he’d been admiring for months, his mouth fitting into the junction of her neck and shoulder.
“Sire,” she breathed lowly.
“Considering the circumstance,” he whispered between kisses as he worked back up to her ear, “you can call me by name.”
Gwen blushed - although he luckily didn’t see it - embarrassed that she had still addressed him by a title. It was what she was used to doing, after all.
She moaned softly as he nipped the soft skin beneath her lobe. “Arthur,” she answered, her breath hitched, reveling in the effortlessness that she said it.
She heard him hum a pleased response to his name and he paused his kisses across her shoulder. “To be clear, always call me by name. It sounds so much better coming from you.”
So she smiled, deciding that she loved being able to say his name almost more than he liked hearing it from her and said it again.
Gwen laced her fingers into his hair, the way she had shamefully fantasized of doing for years, and lifted him back to her lips.
“We should stop,” Gwen panted after several minutes.
Arthur nodded quickly, replying between kisses. “We will. - For eating. - Sleeping.”
Gwen gave a small laugh, which was muffled against his mouth. And she couldn’t help but instinctively push her body toward him.
Her movement did not help matters as she gently rubbed against him, but she did not back down at his body’s response to her. He actually felt her lips pull into a small smile, apparently pleased with herself, so he did not discourage her at first…
“Maybe you’re right,” he gasped finally. “We should stop.” He knew where this could very easily go, especially with his bed just a few feet away. But he couldn’t help but continue kissing her, her only reply a mumbled ‘Mmhmm’ against his lips.
Perhaps she wanted to…
But they shouldn’t… They probably shouldn’t… No, they really shouldn’t. At least not until they’ve figured a few things out first. She deserved that.
He pulled away from her, groaning at the loss of contact. Without opening his eyes, he tilted his head back and forced his breath out through his teeth, trying to calm himself.
“Hold on a second,” he said, his voice rough.
Gwen blushed, feeling guilty over his discomfort. She was hardly used to this sort of thing.
“I suppose we should… talk,” he continued.
Reality crashed back into her at his words. “Yes, we should.” She worried her lips for a moment as reason returned to her mind, previously cloudy with desire. “But not tonight. I need to… think on this.”
Arthur nodded, his breathing still a little ragged. “Okay. That’s fair.”
Gwen reached out to her side for the door handle, feeling for it as her eyes remained on Arthur.
“Good night,” she whispered.
Arthur took her face in his hands again, kissing her firmly. An extra reminder, he figured, to sway her from thinking too bloody much with her head.
“Sleep well,” he murmured.
That, she thought as his parting words echoed back to her on her walk home, would be damned near impossible.
llllllllll
A/N 2: I distinctly remember writing the beginning and at some point thinking it sounded a bit like Mr. Darcy’s proposal (in that he's almost insulting her, & not the most romantic of things to say, etc). But I suppose there are more parallels than one, being that Arthur is often too Proud and Guinevere might be a tad Prejudiced against him.