Fic: Five Firsts for Arthur and Gwen, PG-13, Arthur/Gwen
Title: Five Firsts for Arthur and Gwen
Author: kepp0xy
Rating: PG-13, light sexuality
Characters/Pairing: Arthur/Gwen
Warning: None
Summary: I think the title says it! :]
Author's Note: Written for the five things challenge at merlin_rarepair. Comments are ♥ & concrit appreciated.
Now with amazing fanart by irrel ♥! Originally posted here.
1. First Moment of Recognition
Arthur always had something prepared before he faced his knights on the day of battle, but the people of Ealdor were different. He recognised that now, and had sudden, poignant insight into who Merlin was and why. They all needed to hear words spontaneous and heartfelt, not formulated and crafted to be inspiring.
It was the first time he entered a situation such as this without any preconceived words of encouragement. True, he had certain points he knew he had to make, but other than that, he was going to attempt to speak as he felt, and of what he saw in them. It was a little daunting - particularly given his anxiety that he had led them astray - but perhaps Merlin was right, and all that was needed was a little faith. Thankfully, the inspirational part of the speech came second; first he had to deal with the rest of the town who would not fight, and the last details of battle.
She threw him. With the first words out of his mouth, a contradiction arose from the crowd. Arthur turned, expecting to find Matthew's wife, or perhaps Hunith. He did not think to see Morgana's maidservant, stern and commanding: her shoulders were thrown back, her head held high, and there was a certain expectant light in her eyes which set something inside him smouldering slightly.
Of course, he still said no. Certainly, Arthur knew Morgana could fight, but the rest -
"The more of us there are, the better chance we stand."
The women stepped forwards, a subtle surge of support that caused Arthur to stand temporarily dumbfounded. He watched as Gwen looked around her in pride of the women, and then to him, almost daring him to deny them their right, as she called it. There was a fierceness surrounding her as she waited: a competent acknowledgement of the stakes, and an indomitable desire to overcome those who had no right to treat people as Kanen did. Both of those attributes were things he recognised, and it was as though he had gained another support column which he had never expected: three now, instead of two.
Drawn as his gaze was to Gwen's face, an unexpected and peculiarly enticing puzzle, Arthur forced himself to glance at the women nearest to her; noticing for the first time that Morgana stood back, watching Gwen with a mix of pride and surprise.
Arthur wondered, briefly, if in other circumstances he would have said no on principle, simply for being countered in front of so many others. But, for all his focus on finding the right words to set the people of Ealdor's hearts ablaze, he had been ignoring the plain fact that they had too few to win. He still doubted the women would make enough difference to change the outcome of the battle, but he could not deny her logic that more would be better.
And perhaps she was correct: it was their choice, he was merely a guest here.
"This is your home, if you want to fight to defend it, that's your choice. I'd be honoured to stand alongside you."
He was purposefully looking away from her as he said it, trying to redirect his focus, but he saw, from the corner of his eye, her regal nod of acceptance, and wondered how he had never taken notice of Gwen before.
2. First Kiss
She hadn't really been expecting it. Gwen had been quite painfully aware of her own feelings for Arthur for some time, and had been working to smother the damning emotions. Of course, it was made all the more difficult by the looks he gave - which seemed to reflect back to her what she felt - and the way he treated her: sombrely expectant and respectful of her opinions in more serious moments around the court; desiring her companionship for trivial talk and laughter when the kingdom was brighter.
And then there was the way that he, and no other in her memory, referred to her almost solely as "Guinevere," as though that name was a small piece of her which only he could touch and properly apply to her personality.
Which was how this began; on a night shortly after a spell caster had been intent on ending Merlin's life (which, she thought, likely bemused all involved, because while Merlin had a great deal of loyalty to Arthur, he still was just a servant) and she had, by some inexplicable series of events, found herself in Arthur's chambers, laughing with he and Merlin rather late into the evening. His chambers were pleasantly warm, and so was her stomach as Arthur had generously shared his meal with her and Merlin; the mood was light and comfortable, and the three seemed uncertain exactly how they had gotten to this point of friendship, but were entirely unwilling to question it.
Merlin had then decided to sneak down to the kitchen in order to bring up some wine, or tea, or in the least another flagon of water. Arthur surprised them both by agreeing, which meant Gwen was left alone with the crown prince at some ungodly hour. He leaned forward, drawing shockingly close given that she was already rested with her elbow on the table, and dropping his hand so that it lay incredibly close to hers. She could have twitched and they'd have been touching.
Arthur smiled at her, and she smiled back, fighting away the sense of bashfulness and elation she felt whenever he did that. "Do you and Morgana speak like this?" he asked lightly, referring to the plethora of topics they had discussed throughout the evening. "Or is it all, hairstyles and dress cuts, shoes and tiaras?"
Unbidden, the image of Arthur and Merlin discussing these things painted itself in her mind, and Gwen laughed, which disturbed her hand so that their smallest fingers lay suddenly over top each other. Neither of them pulled their hands away, instead, drawing slightly closer over the corner of the table. Her heart began to patter and skip in its cavity, but Gwen ignored it, instead answering his question. "No, not really. Well, sometimes. Only when Morgana prepares for the day. Otherwise, we talk of lots of things... Some topics like tonight's, but others as well."
He was nodding, but his expression told her that his thoughts were elsewhere, and she tilted her head curiously. He seemed to come to his senses at her movement, meeting her gaze with bright eyes, and giving her another small smile. Gwen felt daft, eyes drawn to his lips, which was entirely inappropriate, but she couldn't look away. "And what topic," he began, voice suddenly much lower and softer than it had been previously, causing the hair on the back of her arms to stand on end, and a shiver to race down her spine. "What topic is your favourite, Guinevere?"
It was her name which toppled the balance, apparently for them both. Her eyes flashed to meet his, and all of a sudden their faces were inches apart, then less than that, and as though by gravity their lips touched. So briefly, at first; Arthur kissed her and she pulled back a little in surprise. But Gwen was over-aware of his breath on her cheek and the warmth of his fingers beneath with hers on the table, and she drew close to him again, this time tentatively pressing her lips to his mouth a second time.
As she moved her fingers to lace with his, Arthur's other hand rose and cupped her cheek, sending a whole new thrill through her and her fingers twitched around his. Gwen felt as his mouth curved strangely against hers, realising belatedly that he was smiling as they kissed, and she found herself smiling too, shifting herself on her chair to get nearer and just daring to raise her own hand to his face -
"I couldn't find the wine," Merlin said suddenly behind them and it was as though a current had passed through them as they jumped apart. "But I did get some tea, enough that we could all have a cup." Gwen was breathing a little heavily, aware suddenly how hot the room actually was, but that her hand was unpleasantly cool where Arthur's fingers no longer pressed with hers, and that her cheek seemed almost to be protesting the loss of his touch.
"That's fine, Merlin, thank you," said Arthur, his tones were a bit rough. Gwen risked a glance at him to see his cheeks flushed, and his lips now a little bit swollen; she quickly raised her fingers to touch her own to see if they were the same.
Merlin did not seem to notice that anything was amiss, and Gwen blessed him fervently with every fibre of herself for that tiny favour. He settled himself across from her, just as they had been seated before her whole world changed, and began preparing a cup for each of them. "What did I miss while I was gone?" he asked innocently, watching the steam rise as he poured.
Gwen licked her lips and Arthur cleared his throat, which caused an insane urge to giggle bubbling inside her chest; Arthur glanced at her, and Gwen met his gaze, thinking how happy he looked. "Nothing you'd appreciate, Merlin," said Arthur, and Gwen had to look away with a quick and shy smile.
As Merlin scoffed, obviously thinking he had been insulted, Arthur's hand found hers under the table. Gwen hadn't noticed before how rough his fingertips were, and vowed to take the time to notice everything in future.
3. First Real Argument as a Couple
"I can't believe you still treat him that way," Guinevere said, in tones he suspected were meant to be relatively nonaggressive, but he could hear the way she clipped each syllable in her efforts to contain her anger. Arthur turned back towards her, barring her way down the corridor. Her eyes widened at the abrupt change, and she had to draw up short quickly, nearly colliding with him, placing a palm on his chest to keep from falling. Yesterday - an hour ago - it would have made him smile that she was comfortable enough with him to do so.
"And how should I treat him, Guinevere?" asked Arthur, crossing his arms over his chest. She turned her face slightly as though his tones had hurt her, but other than that telling reaction, she held his gaze steadily and straightened her shoulders.
"He's your servant in the eyes of the court, but you two must be equal to each other by now," she said in the breathless rush, dropping all pretence of calm, and Arthur raised a brow, scoffing. He turned on his heel and continued the way he'd been going. Gwen made an angry sound behind him, and he heard her feet pattering as she dashed to catch up. Her hand wrapped tightly around his upper arm and she tugged. Though easily capable of ignoring her, Arthur acquiesced and turned to face her. "The number of times he has saved your life, and you his. Your friendship has to be -
"Regardless of how you view my relationship with Merlin, I don't see it as a friendship. How could I?" A flash of warning crossed her face, and Arthur knew he should mentally step back from the argument. He viewed what he had with Guinevere as entirely unto its own, and he was undeservedly happy for it. But he was the prince, and as such could not be seen deferring to servants left and right; it just so happened that two of those individuals he was closest to were servants. But that did not change the climate or expectations of the court, and if it came to it, he would also treat her as a servant in front of assembled guests. She had to understand that.
Guinevere stepped back from him, releasing his arm, and swallowed thickly. "Why couldn't you?" she asked softly. It was the sort of soft voice he was slowly learning meant danger. His father was never one for quiet, carefully controlled anger, and neither was Morgana. Since he had stopped training under someone else to be a knight, those were the only two people who had been in any position to be angry with him. Until, it seemed, he began secretly courting Guinevere.
"He has no bearing in the court," Arthur said shortly. "No one would accept Merlin as my equal, even if I announced him there as such."
"You've never tried," she argued, but Arthur shook his head.
"Yes, I have. When Merlin told me Valiant's shield was magic, I tried to give his support as evidence - stop, Guinevere!" She had begun shaking her head, and walking backwards from him, a look of disbelief and pity on her face. The expression infuriated him. "I don't have the power to change people's minds!"
"That story happened years ago," she said, and he had never felt so harshly judged in his entire life. "When Merlin had just arrived in Camelot, and no one knew him - least of all you." Gwen watched him for a moment, and then she shook her head one more time; fear briefly coiled around his anger: it looked like the sort of head-shake which meant a person had given up. "I need to see to Morgana. Good day, my Lord."
Desperation overcame his anger for just long enough to make him speak out. "Guinevere, this isn't about you," he said loudly in exasperation.
She froze at those words and took an angry step back towards him. "No, it isn't," she agreed, breathless and rushed once more. "Treat me that way, then, if you think it's right. But Merlin deserves better." She turned angrily away from him and called back, "he has earned better from you."
Arthur stood in the hall as Guinevere marched away, something in the pit of his stomach seething as waves of frustration washed over him. He wanted to hit something - Merlin, preferably, for being cause of this. How he had ever fallen in love with anyone who felt it her right to demand things of him... How was it his fault that Merlin was a servant? Arthur had not set the mind of the court, but he did have to follow its rules. How could Guinevere, who had served for over a decade, not see that?
He growled instinctively, and grit his teeth. Whatever she thought she saw in him, it was apparent she was wrong. And it would be best for them both to become used to that reality, and for Arthur to stop taking heart from her inane faith about who he would become.
After standing still for a few more minutes, breathing heavily, Arthur turned, and walked slowly towards his chambers; perhaps apologising to Merlin would not bring some catastrophe down upon the kingdom, he reasoned, and tried to convince himself that he was acting of his own accord, and not because he was terrified of failing to be everything Guinevere saw in him.
4. First Morning After
Arthur woke suddenly, and with a shock of pleasure at the automatic way he did it, sent his hand across the space beside him in search of Guinevere.
She wasn't there, however, and he sat up quickly, looking around the room. She stood by the windows, an arm crossed over her chest to prop her other elbow as she worried her nails. He couldn't quite make out what she was wearing, though it didn't appear to be her gown; Arthur peered around squinting, finally spotting his trousers pinned between the mattress and the wooden beam supporting his canopy.
He slid swiftly from the bed, grabbing the trousers and tugging them on before padding up behind her. Arthur slid his arms gently around Gwen's waist, and the warmth that flooded him as she leaned into his embrace and he nuzzled his nose into the mess of hair atop her head brought with it the most unbelievably potent sense of calm.
Guinevere turned her head slightly, indulging his caress before they stood still, looking out over Camelot as the grey sky slowly became more blue and a calling bird began its dawn song. With a small, nervous twinge, Arthur thought he would want all days to begin as this one, mentally renewing the vow that they would one day be wed.
"I thought you'd left," he whispered after a time, and Gwen shook her head. He closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her hair brushing against his chest, ignoring the sense of disbelief that it was possible that he somehow deserved to be this happy.
She whispered, "I promised I wouldn't go before I absolutely had to."
Nodding, he stroked his hand across her abdomen and she shivered slightly. "How do you feel?" he asked softly, concerned. Arthur had been careful - so very, very careful - and Gwen had also taken care to tell him exactly how her body was responding, but he couldn't help feeling anxious.
"A bit sore," she admitted. She hissed softly as she shifted her hips gingerly, testing her body. Arthur tensed in response, but Gwen shook her head again and nudged his shoulder. "It's not too bad, I was worried the pain would be worse."
"Me, too," he murmured, relief tangling in a messy heap with his remorse that pain had been necessary at all. Guinevere's arms slid over his, and she laced her fingers with his, nestling herself more deeply into his hold. She took a deep breath, and whispered, "I thought Camelot would change."
"What do you mean?"
Guinevere gestured towards the turrets rising impressively through a thick dawn mist, all highlighted in blue. "I feel like... It's as though everything has changed. After we, after what we did - last night - I feel so..." She paused, and released a long, satisfied sounding sigh, squeezing his fingers slightly between hers. "I feel like everything should be different. But Camelot appears exactly the same."
His hold tightened instinctively, and Arthur pressed his face into her hair once more. His own first experience with lovemaking had been nothing but an indulgence; the tension had built until the release he could offer himself was not ever enough, and he had sought out the necessary companionship as safely as possible. Albion had not felt as though it had changed, but pleasure and a relaxed contentment had replaced his tension and stress, which was all he had asked for.
Making love to Guinevere had been... He was not one for poetry or hyperbole, but all he could think was how perfect she was. From the frizzy mess of her hair when she started sweating, to the small nubs of her nipples as his fingers brushed and teased, to the twitch of her abdomen when he kissed her, to her smooth and strong legs wrapped tight around his waist, and the husk of her voice breathing in his ear when her pain had passed sufficiently that they could enjoy the experience.
He didn't delude himself into thinking it was a perfect time; their rhythm was disjointed, and it took a long time for them to sort out how to move against each other to pleasure them both, then her muted rapture overcame her quickly - which, in some ways, was a relief he knew, as he had heard some women did not orgasm their first time making love. But the scent of her arousal, the feel of her body, and the look in her eyes had given him enough satisfaction at the time.
Arthur let his hands cross her stomach to rest on her hips, and then, starting by kissing her ear, he slowly made his way down to her neck. Gwen's breathing became quicker as he let his mouth dust along her pulse point and he could imagine she remembered, as vividly as he did, each touch of his mouth, every caress of his hands from the night previous. With a small twist of regret, Arthur kissed her cheek and withdrew; once she was no longer sore, there would be plenty of time for them to learn every single secret of their bodies.
"Let's sleep for a few more hours," he suggested, and took her hand. Guinevere turned slowly, smiling a little bashfully up at him and he suddenly chuckled. "I see you've helped yourself to my wardrobe." The unknown clothing she had been wearing was his shirt, which hung loosely to her mid-thigh, and for some inexplicable reason made her incredibly more appealing to him.
Her eyes widened, and she looked down at herself, her smile turning to one of amusement. "I wasn't sure where you'd... Well, I couldn't see my dress, but I knew where your shirt was." Gwen shrugged slightly as they moved towards the bed, eyes roving across the room to spot her dress. "I could change, if you'd rather I -
"No. No," Arthur said quickly, imagining easily that watching Guinevere strip and change would be too much a temptation for his resolve. "I don't mind. In fact, I think I like it better on you." She glanced at him, a pleased little blush dusting her cheeks, and she smiled. He slid onto the bed and beneath the covers first, Gwen following quickly and fitting herself into each nook of his hold with the ease of familiarity.
5. First Reaction of the People
The loaf was a bit hard, but Gwen had smelled it baking since early that morning. The scent had permeated her small house with an intoxicating strength, and all day her thoughts had revolved around having a fresh piece of bread with her meagre stew supper. So Morgana agreed that Gwen could pop down quickly to the market to collect one, asking her also to stop by the fruit stand and buy some berries.
"Sorry it's sat in the air all day," Henry was saying, more apologetic than she'd have expected. "Mary was meant to tend the stand but she felt nauseous all night, so it was up to me. I was a bit distracted."
Gwen frowned sympathetically and shook her head. "It will still be just as delicious as it always is," she said, to pacify him, and Henry sighed in relief. They'd known each other since she was very little, and he used to smuggle her the occasional cookie when her father hadn't been looking. He smiled in appreciation and took the loaf from her, preparing to wrap it. "Is Mary all right?" she asked, genuinely concerned. Mary was a lovely woman, and she knew they wanted to start their family soon; an affliction to her stomach could easily be something wrong in her womb, and Gwen fervently hoped she was all right.
Nodding, Henry bustled around to find an appropriate cloth, telling her that it was merely a bit of stomach upset, nothing that wouldn't be gone by tomorrow. Just as he was walking back to get her payment, his eyes flashed in surprise to something behind her, and Gwen turned to see. Arthur stood just at her shoulder, and she had no idea how she hadn't noticed him.
"When did you get here?" she asked, a little breathless as her whole body tingled a little in pleased surprise at his appearance. "Sire," she added, suddenly remembering they were in the market and not tucked away in a private room of the castle.
A flash of amusement crossed his features, something Gwen knew only she would catch, and Arthur tilted his head. "Only a moment ago. What are you buying, Guinevere?" He leaned a little towards her, looking past her shoulder to the baked goods spread on Henry's table. Gwen knew, as surely as she knew the sun rose in the east, that she ought to step away from him, and turn to the table, speak with her head and tones lowered like the servant she was.
But she didn't. "A loaf of bread," she murmured instead, letting her eyes wander. He was looking sinfully handsome this afternoon, she thought, the summer sun was beginning to leave its mark on his skin, and his hair was a bit of a mess which reminded her vividly of how he looked each morning. A jolt went through her and Gwen had to resist the urge to brush his fringe aside, as was her wont when he woke. "Henry is the best baker in the kingdom."
"Oh, Gwen," Henry said, tones clearly a mix of bafflement and gratification. "Don't exaggerate."
Arthur glanced at her and offered a faint smile; she thought it was a peculiar thing about Arthur, but she knew that he adored all her knowledge of the individuals in the market. He would whisper, as they lay beside each other late in the night, about how it was part of the reason she would make an excellent queen; she always felt so pleased and embarrassed when he said things like that, never quite making herself believe she would ever be able to serve Camelot's people as its queen.
His gaze shifted to Henry, and Gwen finally willed herself to turn around as Arthur said, "Guinevere rarely ever exaggerates, Henry," and Gwen saw how Henry's chest puffed up that the prince remembered his name. Pride moved through her; regardless of who his queen was, Arthur would make a magnificent king, and she could hardly wait for that day. "Or at least, that's my experience with her."
This last comment made her cheeks heat unexpectedly and Gwen turned her attention to the table, hoping Henry wouldn't notice. Arthur took a step forwards, leaning around her so that his chest brushed her shoulder, and the heat from his body bombarded her side. They were being shockingly reckless today, Gwen thought, and was tempted to move aside to avoid him; but recently he was constantly talking about marrying her, and she wondered, with a shock of anxiety, if this behaviour from them both was simply some natural progression towards announcing their relationship.
"I'd suggest the wheat buns, my lord, if you're thinking of getting anything," Gwen said to break the silence. She risked looking up at Henry, who appeared too busy being startled and flattered that the prince of Camelot was tending his table to think of much else. "They taste delicious with a little dried fruit."
"And maybe some cream," Arthur said, tones light and thoughtful. He tipped his head to consider the buns she pointed to, and nodded decisively after a moment. "Henry, I'll take half a dozen."
Henry jumped, and flushed a mottled pink, stumbling around behind his stall to find a cloth rich enough in which to wrap buns for Arthur. Gwen risked brushing her fingers against Arthur's hip while Henry was so distracted, drawing Arthur's gaze to her face. Words, embarrassingly flowered and over affectionate, blossomed on her lips, but she kept her mouth closed, instead telling him with her expression exactly what she thought of him.
She knew the moment he understood her look because he glanced away from her face; these moments were the only times she saw him bashful, always so pleased and affected by her love for and belief in him. It made Gwen feel like she should try harder to make him recognise the goodness in himself, constantly baffled that he did not realise it was there.
Henry was back quickly, buns wrapped in a brown cotton scrap. He looked scared, for a moment, that Arthur would be disdainful of the package, and Gwen was forcibly reminded of a time in which Arthur would have demanded a higher quality wrapping, if he would have stopped at the stall at all. But he reached out for it, digging in a small change purse at his hip and produced several gold pieces too many. Henry began to hand some back, but Arthur stepped away from the table, nodding at the baker. "Thank you, Henry," and Gwen watched as Henry's face turned from pink to red, a smile turning his lips as he thanked Arthur in turn.
Arthur then watched her, for just a moment too long, before nodding, and saying, "Guinevere."
Gwen watched him go, only turning when Henry cleared his throat. She was suddenly very aware of how they had behaved in front of him, and she hoped that Henry was too distracted by Arthur's presence at his stall to notice. "Still just the one loaf, Gwen?" he asked, a little breathless and Gwen almost sighed in relief.
"Yes, please, Henry," she responded, digging in her own, sparse purse for the appropriate coins. When she looked up, Henry was eyeing her speculatively and she tilted her head with a small smile. "What is it?"
"I didn't realise you were on such good terms with the prince," Henry said, accepting the coins and retreating to find her change. Gwen's heart jumped to her throat, her palms suddenly sweaty.
"What do you mean?" she asked when Henry returned, trying to keep her tones calm.
Henry looked at her shrewdly for a moment before looking down at the bread and focusing on it. "When me and Mary first started our relationship, we tried to keep it secret, see," he began, and Gwen's hands shook slightly. "We behaved a lot like that." He passed her the bread, and held out her change, which Gwen took quickly, licking her lips.
"Oh?" was her eloquent answer; she wished she had been born a spectacular liar.
"Aye," he said, nodding. "Wouldn't be a bad thing to have a peasant queen," he said offhandedly, squinting up into the sky, as though he was commenting on the weather, and not inferring the nature of her relationship with Arthur. "Especially one so good as you."
Gwen had never been keen on lying, and she felt that once a person knew something, it was probably best to leave them with the truth rather than with a false belief, but she could hardly bring herself to admit she was in love with the prince. So she simply said nothing, tucking the bread under her arm.
"Thanks for the bread, Henry," she said, stepping away and not meeting his gaze. "I can't wait for dinner." She gave him another small smile and turned away from his stall, trying to calm her heart and even her breathing.
But Henry said, in pleased and expectant tones, "not a problem, Gwen. I can't wait for the future."
Gwen ducked her head and hurried away down the street without another word, her heart racing as quickly as her mind.
Author: kepp0xy
Rating: PG-13, light sexuality
Characters/Pairing: Arthur/Gwen
Warning: None
Summary: I think the title says it! :]
Author's Note: Written for the five things challenge at merlin_rarepair. Comments are ♥ & concrit appreciated.
Now with amazing fanart by irrel ♥! Originally posted here.
1. First Moment of Recognition
Arthur always had something prepared before he faced his knights on the day of battle, but the people of Ealdor were different. He recognised that now, and had sudden, poignant insight into who Merlin was and why. They all needed to hear words spontaneous and heartfelt, not formulated and crafted to be inspiring.
It was the first time he entered a situation such as this without any preconceived words of encouragement. True, he had certain points he knew he had to make, but other than that, he was going to attempt to speak as he felt, and of what he saw in them. It was a little daunting - particularly given his anxiety that he had led them astray - but perhaps Merlin was right, and all that was needed was a little faith. Thankfully, the inspirational part of the speech came second; first he had to deal with the rest of the town who would not fight, and the last details of battle.
She threw him. With the first words out of his mouth, a contradiction arose from the crowd. Arthur turned, expecting to find Matthew's wife, or perhaps Hunith. He did not think to see Morgana's maidservant, stern and commanding: her shoulders were thrown back, her head held high, and there was a certain expectant light in her eyes which set something inside him smouldering slightly.
Of course, he still said no. Certainly, Arthur knew Morgana could fight, but the rest -
"The more of us there are, the better chance we stand."
The women stepped forwards, a subtle surge of support that caused Arthur to stand temporarily dumbfounded. He watched as Gwen looked around her in pride of the women, and then to him, almost daring him to deny them their right, as she called it. There was a fierceness surrounding her as she waited: a competent acknowledgement of the stakes, and an indomitable desire to overcome those who had no right to treat people as Kanen did. Both of those attributes were things he recognised, and it was as though he had gained another support column which he had never expected: three now, instead of two.
Drawn as his gaze was to Gwen's face, an unexpected and peculiarly enticing puzzle, Arthur forced himself to glance at the women nearest to her; noticing for the first time that Morgana stood back, watching Gwen with a mix of pride and surprise.
Arthur wondered, briefly, if in other circumstances he would have said no on principle, simply for being countered in front of so many others. But, for all his focus on finding the right words to set the people of Ealdor's hearts ablaze, he had been ignoring the plain fact that they had too few to win. He still doubted the women would make enough difference to change the outcome of the battle, but he could not deny her logic that more would be better.
And perhaps she was correct: it was their choice, he was merely a guest here.
"This is your home, if you want to fight to defend it, that's your choice. I'd be honoured to stand alongside you."
He was purposefully looking away from her as he said it, trying to redirect his focus, but he saw, from the corner of his eye, her regal nod of acceptance, and wondered how he had never taken notice of Gwen before.
2. First Kiss
She hadn't really been expecting it. Gwen had been quite painfully aware of her own feelings for Arthur for some time, and had been working to smother the damning emotions. Of course, it was made all the more difficult by the looks he gave - which seemed to reflect back to her what she felt - and the way he treated her: sombrely expectant and respectful of her opinions in more serious moments around the court; desiring her companionship for trivial talk and laughter when the kingdom was brighter.
And then there was the way that he, and no other in her memory, referred to her almost solely as "Guinevere," as though that name was a small piece of her which only he could touch and properly apply to her personality.
Which was how this began; on a night shortly after a spell caster had been intent on ending Merlin's life (which, she thought, likely bemused all involved, because while Merlin had a great deal of loyalty to Arthur, he still was just a servant) and she had, by some inexplicable series of events, found herself in Arthur's chambers, laughing with he and Merlin rather late into the evening. His chambers were pleasantly warm, and so was her stomach as Arthur had generously shared his meal with her and Merlin; the mood was light and comfortable, and the three seemed uncertain exactly how they had gotten to this point of friendship, but were entirely unwilling to question it.
Merlin had then decided to sneak down to the kitchen in order to bring up some wine, or tea, or in the least another flagon of water. Arthur surprised them both by agreeing, which meant Gwen was left alone with the crown prince at some ungodly hour. He leaned forward, drawing shockingly close given that she was already rested with her elbow on the table, and dropping his hand so that it lay incredibly close to hers. She could have twitched and they'd have been touching.
Arthur smiled at her, and she smiled back, fighting away the sense of bashfulness and elation she felt whenever he did that. "Do you and Morgana speak like this?" he asked lightly, referring to the plethora of topics they had discussed throughout the evening. "Or is it all, hairstyles and dress cuts, shoes and tiaras?"
Unbidden, the image of Arthur and Merlin discussing these things painted itself in her mind, and Gwen laughed, which disturbed her hand so that their smallest fingers lay suddenly over top each other. Neither of them pulled their hands away, instead, drawing slightly closer over the corner of the table. Her heart began to patter and skip in its cavity, but Gwen ignored it, instead answering his question. "No, not really. Well, sometimes. Only when Morgana prepares for the day. Otherwise, we talk of lots of things... Some topics like tonight's, but others as well."
He was nodding, but his expression told her that his thoughts were elsewhere, and she tilted her head curiously. He seemed to come to his senses at her movement, meeting her gaze with bright eyes, and giving her another small smile. Gwen felt daft, eyes drawn to his lips, which was entirely inappropriate, but she couldn't look away. "And what topic," he began, voice suddenly much lower and softer than it had been previously, causing the hair on the back of her arms to stand on end, and a shiver to race down her spine. "What topic is your favourite, Guinevere?"
It was her name which toppled the balance, apparently for them both. Her eyes flashed to meet his, and all of a sudden their faces were inches apart, then less than that, and as though by gravity their lips touched. So briefly, at first; Arthur kissed her and she pulled back a little in surprise. But Gwen was over-aware of his breath on her cheek and the warmth of his fingers beneath with hers on the table, and she drew close to him again, this time tentatively pressing her lips to his mouth a second time.
As she moved her fingers to lace with his, Arthur's other hand rose and cupped her cheek, sending a whole new thrill through her and her fingers twitched around his. Gwen felt as his mouth curved strangely against hers, realising belatedly that he was smiling as they kissed, and she found herself smiling too, shifting herself on her chair to get nearer and just daring to raise her own hand to his face -
"I couldn't find the wine," Merlin said suddenly behind them and it was as though a current had passed through them as they jumped apart. "But I did get some tea, enough that we could all have a cup." Gwen was breathing a little heavily, aware suddenly how hot the room actually was, but that her hand was unpleasantly cool where Arthur's fingers no longer pressed with hers, and that her cheek seemed almost to be protesting the loss of his touch.
"That's fine, Merlin, thank you," said Arthur, his tones were a bit rough. Gwen risked a glance at him to see his cheeks flushed, and his lips now a little bit swollen; she quickly raised her fingers to touch her own to see if they were the same.
Merlin did not seem to notice that anything was amiss, and Gwen blessed him fervently with every fibre of herself for that tiny favour. He settled himself across from her, just as they had been seated before her whole world changed, and began preparing a cup for each of them. "What did I miss while I was gone?" he asked innocently, watching the steam rise as he poured.
Gwen licked her lips and Arthur cleared his throat, which caused an insane urge to giggle bubbling inside her chest; Arthur glanced at her, and Gwen met his gaze, thinking how happy he looked. "Nothing you'd appreciate, Merlin," said Arthur, and Gwen had to look away with a quick and shy smile.
As Merlin scoffed, obviously thinking he had been insulted, Arthur's hand found hers under the table. Gwen hadn't noticed before how rough his fingertips were, and vowed to take the time to notice everything in future.
3. First Real Argument as a Couple
"I can't believe you still treat him that way," Guinevere said, in tones he suspected were meant to be relatively nonaggressive, but he could hear the way she clipped each syllable in her efforts to contain her anger. Arthur turned back towards her, barring her way down the corridor. Her eyes widened at the abrupt change, and she had to draw up short quickly, nearly colliding with him, placing a palm on his chest to keep from falling. Yesterday - an hour ago - it would have made him smile that she was comfortable enough with him to do so.
"And how should I treat him, Guinevere?" asked Arthur, crossing his arms over his chest. She turned her face slightly as though his tones had hurt her, but other than that telling reaction, she held his gaze steadily and straightened her shoulders.
"He's your servant in the eyes of the court, but you two must be equal to each other by now," she said in the breathless rush, dropping all pretence of calm, and Arthur raised a brow, scoffing. He turned on his heel and continued the way he'd been going. Gwen made an angry sound behind him, and he heard her feet pattering as she dashed to catch up. Her hand wrapped tightly around his upper arm and she tugged. Though easily capable of ignoring her, Arthur acquiesced and turned to face her. "The number of times he has saved your life, and you his. Your friendship has to be -
"Regardless of how you view my relationship with Merlin, I don't see it as a friendship. How could I?" A flash of warning crossed her face, and Arthur knew he should mentally step back from the argument. He viewed what he had with Guinevere as entirely unto its own, and he was undeservedly happy for it. But he was the prince, and as such could not be seen deferring to servants left and right; it just so happened that two of those individuals he was closest to were servants. But that did not change the climate or expectations of the court, and if it came to it, he would also treat her as a servant in front of assembled guests. She had to understand that.
Guinevere stepped back from him, releasing his arm, and swallowed thickly. "Why couldn't you?" she asked softly. It was the sort of soft voice he was slowly learning meant danger. His father was never one for quiet, carefully controlled anger, and neither was Morgana. Since he had stopped training under someone else to be a knight, those were the only two people who had been in any position to be angry with him. Until, it seemed, he began secretly courting Guinevere.
"He has no bearing in the court," Arthur said shortly. "No one would accept Merlin as my equal, even if I announced him there as such."
"You've never tried," she argued, but Arthur shook his head.
"Yes, I have. When Merlin told me Valiant's shield was magic, I tried to give his support as evidence - stop, Guinevere!" She had begun shaking her head, and walking backwards from him, a look of disbelief and pity on her face. The expression infuriated him. "I don't have the power to change people's minds!"
"That story happened years ago," she said, and he had never felt so harshly judged in his entire life. "When Merlin had just arrived in Camelot, and no one knew him - least of all you." Gwen watched him for a moment, and then she shook her head one more time; fear briefly coiled around his anger: it looked like the sort of head-shake which meant a person had given up. "I need to see to Morgana. Good day, my Lord."
Desperation overcame his anger for just long enough to make him speak out. "Guinevere, this isn't about you," he said loudly in exasperation.
She froze at those words and took an angry step back towards him. "No, it isn't," she agreed, breathless and rushed once more. "Treat me that way, then, if you think it's right. But Merlin deserves better." She turned angrily away from him and called back, "he has earned better from you."
Arthur stood in the hall as Guinevere marched away, something in the pit of his stomach seething as waves of frustration washed over him. He wanted to hit something - Merlin, preferably, for being cause of this. How he had ever fallen in love with anyone who felt it her right to demand things of him... How was it his fault that Merlin was a servant? Arthur had not set the mind of the court, but he did have to follow its rules. How could Guinevere, who had served for over a decade, not see that?
He growled instinctively, and grit his teeth. Whatever she thought she saw in him, it was apparent she was wrong. And it would be best for them both to become used to that reality, and for Arthur to stop taking heart from her inane faith about who he would become.
After standing still for a few more minutes, breathing heavily, Arthur turned, and walked slowly towards his chambers; perhaps apologising to Merlin would not bring some catastrophe down upon the kingdom, he reasoned, and tried to convince himself that he was acting of his own accord, and not because he was terrified of failing to be everything Guinevere saw in him.
4. First Morning After
Arthur woke suddenly, and with a shock of pleasure at the automatic way he did it, sent his hand across the space beside him in search of Guinevere.
She wasn't there, however, and he sat up quickly, looking around the room. She stood by the windows, an arm crossed over her chest to prop her other elbow as she worried her nails. He couldn't quite make out what she was wearing, though it didn't appear to be her gown; Arthur peered around squinting, finally spotting his trousers pinned between the mattress and the wooden beam supporting his canopy.
He slid swiftly from the bed, grabbing the trousers and tugging them on before padding up behind her. Arthur slid his arms gently around Gwen's waist, and the warmth that flooded him as she leaned into his embrace and he nuzzled his nose into the mess of hair atop her head brought with it the most unbelievably potent sense of calm.
Guinevere turned her head slightly, indulging his caress before they stood still, looking out over Camelot as the grey sky slowly became more blue and a calling bird began its dawn song. With a small, nervous twinge, Arthur thought he would want all days to begin as this one, mentally renewing the vow that they would one day be wed.
"I thought you'd left," he whispered after a time, and Gwen shook her head. He closed his eyes, relishing the feel of her hair brushing against his chest, ignoring the sense of disbelief that it was possible that he somehow deserved to be this happy.
She whispered, "I promised I wouldn't go before I absolutely had to."
Nodding, he stroked his hand across her abdomen and she shivered slightly. "How do you feel?" he asked softly, concerned. Arthur had been careful - so very, very careful - and Gwen had also taken care to tell him exactly how her body was responding, but he couldn't help feeling anxious.
"A bit sore," she admitted. She hissed softly as she shifted her hips gingerly, testing her body. Arthur tensed in response, but Gwen shook her head again and nudged his shoulder. "It's not too bad, I was worried the pain would be worse."
"Me, too," he murmured, relief tangling in a messy heap with his remorse that pain had been necessary at all. Guinevere's arms slid over his, and she laced her fingers with his, nestling herself more deeply into his hold. She took a deep breath, and whispered, "I thought Camelot would change."
"What do you mean?"
Guinevere gestured towards the turrets rising impressively through a thick dawn mist, all highlighted in blue. "I feel like... It's as though everything has changed. After we, after what we did - last night - I feel so..." She paused, and released a long, satisfied sounding sigh, squeezing his fingers slightly between hers. "I feel like everything should be different. But Camelot appears exactly the same."
His hold tightened instinctively, and Arthur pressed his face into her hair once more. His own first experience with lovemaking had been nothing but an indulgence; the tension had built until the release he could offer himself was not ever enough, and he had sought out the necessary companionship as safely as possible. Albion had not felt as though it had changed, but pleasure and a relaxed contentment had replaced his tension and stress, which was all he had asked for.
Making love to Guinevere had been... He was not one for poetry or hyperbole, but all he could think was how perfect she was. From the frizzy mess of her hair when she started sweating, to the small nubs of her nipples as his fingers brushed and teased, to the twitch of her abdomen when he kissed her, to her smooth and strong legs wrapped tight around his waist, and the husk of her voice breathing in his ear when her pain had passed sufficiently that they could enjoy the experience.
He didn't delude himself into thinking it was a perfect time; their rhythm was disjointed, and it took a long time for them to sort out how to move against each other to pleasure them both, then her muted rapture overcame her quickly - which, in some ways, was a relief he knew, as he had heard some women did not orgasm their first time making love. But the scent of her arousal, the feel of her body, and the look in her eyes had given him enough satisfaction at the time.
Arthur let his hands cross her stomach to rest on her hips, and then, starting by kissing her ear, he slowly made his way down to her neck. Gwen's breathing became quicker as he let his mouth dust along her pulse point and he could imagine she remembered, as vividly as he did, each touch of his mouth, every caress of his hands from the night previous. With a small twist of regret, Arthur kissed her cheek and withdrew; once she was no longer sore, there would be plenty of time for them to learn every single secret of their bodies.
"Let's sleep for a few more hours," he suggested, and took her hand. Guinevere turned slowly, smiling a little bashfully up at him and he suddenly chuckled. "I see you've helped yourself to my wardrobe." The unknown clothing she had been wearing was his shirt, which hung loosely to her mid-thigh, and for some inexplicable reason made her incredibly more appealing to him.
Her eyes widened, and she looked down at herself, her smile turning to one of amusement. "I wasn't sure where you'd... Well, I couldn't see my dress, but I knew where your shirt was." Gwen shrugged slightly as they moved towards the bed, eyes roving across the room to spot her dress. "I could change, if you'd rather I -
"No. No," Arthur said quickly, imagining easily that watching Guinevere strip and change would be too much a temptation for his resolve. "I don't mind. In fact, I think I like it better on you." She glanced at him, a pleased little blush dusting her cheeks, and she smiled. He slid onto the bed and beneath the covers first, Gwen following quickly and fitting herself into each nook of his hold with the ease of familiarity.
5. First Reaction of the People
The loaf was a bit hard, but Gwen had smelled it baking since early that morning. The scent had permeated her small house with an intoxicating strength, and all day her thoughts had revolved around having a fresh piece of bread with her meagre stew supper. So Morgana agreed that Gwen could pop down quickly to the market to collect one, asking her also to stop by the fruit stand and buy some berries.
"Sorry it's sat in the air all day," Henry was saying, more apologetic than she'd have expected. "Mary was meant to tend the stand but she felt nauseous all night, so it was up to me. I was a bit distracted."
Gwen frowned sympathetically and shook her head. "It will still be just as delicious as it always is," she said, to pacify him, and Henry sighed in relief. They'd known each other since she was very little, and he used to smuggle her the occasional cookie when her father hadn't been looking. He smiled in appreciation and took the loaf from her, preparing to wrap it. "Is Mary all right?" she asked, genuinely concerned. Mary was a lovely woman, and she knew they wanted to start their family soon; an affliction to her stomach could easily be something wrong in her womb, and Gwen fervently hoped she was all right.
Nodding, Henry bustled around to find an appropriate cloth, telling her that it was merely a bit of stomach upset, nothing that wouldn't be gone by tomorrow. Just as he was walking back to get her payment, his eyes flashed in surprise to something behind her, and Gwen turned to see. Arthur stood just at her shoulder, and she had no idea how she hadn't noticed him.
"When did you get here?" she asked, a little breathless as her whole body tingled a little in pleased surprise at his appearance. "Sire," she added, suddenly remembering they were in the market and not tucked away in a private room of the castle.
A flash of amusement crossed his features, something Gwen knew only she would catch, and Arthur tilted his head. "Only a moment ago. What are you buying, Guinevere?" He leaned a little towards her, looking past her shoulder to the baked goods spread on Henry's table. Gwen knew, as surely as she knew the sun rose in the east, that she ought to step away from him, and turn to the table, speak with her head and tones lowered like the servant she was.
But she didn't. "A loaf of bread," she murmured instead, letting her eyes wander. He was looking sinfully handsome this afternoon, she thought, the summer sun was beginning to leave its mark on his skin, and his hair was a bit of a mess which reminded her vividly of how he looked each morning. A jolt went through her and Gwen had to resist the urge to brush his fringe aside, as was her wont when he woke. "Henry is the best baker in the kingdom."
"Oh, Gwen," Henry said, tones clearly a mix of bafflement and gratification. "Don't exaggerate."
Arthur glanced at her and offered a faint smile; she thought it was a peculiar thing about Arthur, but she knew that he adored all her knowledge of the individuals in the market. He would whisper, as they lay beside each other late in the night, about how it was part of the reason she would make an excellent queen; she always felt so pleased and embarrassed when he said things like that, never quite making herself believe she would ever be able to serve Camelot's people as its queen.
His gaze shifted to Henry, and Gwen finally willed herself to turn around as Arthur said, "Guinevere rarely ever exaggerates, Henry," and Gwen saw how Henry's chest puffed up that the prince remembered his name. Pride moved through her; regardless of who his queen was, Arthur would make a magnificent king, and she could hardly wait for that day. "Or at least, that's my experience with her."
This last comment made her cheeks heat unexpectedly and Gwen turned her attention to the table, hoping Henry wouldn't notice. Arthur took a step forwards, leaning around her so that his chest brushed her shoulder, and the heat from his body bombarded her side. They were being shockingly reckless today, Gwen thought, and was tempted to move aside to avoid him; but recently he was constantly talking about marrying her, and she wondered, with a shock of anxiety, if this behaviour from them both was simply some natural progression towards announcing their relationship.
"I'd suggest the wheat buns, my lord, if you're thinking of getting anything," Gwen said to break the silence. She risked looking up at Henry, who appeared too busy being startled and flattered that the prince of Camelot was tending his table to think of much else. "They taste delicious with a little dried fruit."
"And maybe some cream," Arthur said, tones light and thoughtful. He tipped his head to consider the buns she pointed to, and nodded decisively after a moment. "Henry, I'll take half a dozen."
Henry jumped, and flushed a mottled pink, stumbling around behind his stall to find a cloth rich enough in which to wrap buns for Arthur. Gwen risked brushing her fingers against Arthur's hip while Henry was so distracted, drawing Arthur's gaze to her face. Words, embarrassingly flowered and over affectionate, blossomed on her lips, but she kept her mouth closed, instead telling him with her expression exactly what she thought of him.
She knew the moment he understood her look because he glanced away from her face; these moments were the only times she saw him bashful, always so pleased and affected by her love for and belief in him. It made Gwen feel like she should try harder to make him recognise the goodness in himself, constantly baffled that he did not realise it was there.
Henry was back quickly, buns wrapped in a brown cotton scrap. He looked scared, for a moment, that Arthur would be disdainful of the package, and Gwen was forcibly reminded of a time in which Arthur would have demanded a higher quality wrapping, if he would have stopped at the stall at all. But he reached out for it, digging in a small change purse at his hip and produced several gold pieces too many. Henry began to hand some back, but Arthur stepped away from the table, nodding at the baker. "Thank you, Henry," and Gwen watched as Henry's face turned from pink to red, a smile turning his lips as he thanked Arthur in turn.
Arthur then watched her, for just a moment too long, before nodding, and saying, "Guinevere."
Gwen watched him go, only turning when Henry cleared his throat. She was suddenly very aware of how they had behaved in front of him, and she hoped that Henry was too distracted by Arthur's presence at his stall to notice. "Still just the one loaf, Gwen?" he asked, a little breathless and Gwen almost sighed in relief.
"Yes, please, Henry," she responded, digging in her own, sparse purse for the appropriate coins. When she looked up, Henry was eyeing her speculatively and she tilted her head with a small smile. "What is it?"
"I didn't realise you were on such good terms with the prince," Henry said, accepting the coins and retreating to find her change. Gwen's heart jumped to her throat, her palms suddenly sweaty.
"What do you mean?" she asked when Henry returned, trying to keep her tones calm.
Henry looked at her shrewdly for a moment before looking down at the bread and focusing on it. "When me and Mary first started our relationship, we tried to keep it secret, see," he began, and Gwen's hands shook slightly. "We behaved a lot like that." He passed her the bread, and held out her change, which Gwen took quickly, licking her lips.
"Oh?" was her eloquent answer; she wished she had been born a spectacular liar.
"Aye," he said, nodding. "Wouldn't be a bad thing to have a peasant queen," he said offhandedly, squinting up into the sky, as though he was commenting on the weather, and not inferring the nature of her relationship with Arthur. "Especially one so good as you."
Gwen had never been keen on lying, and she felt that once a person knew something, it was probably best to leave them with the truth rather than with a false belief, but she could hardly bring herself to admit she was in love with the prince. So she simply said nothing, tucking the bread under her arm.
"Thanks for the bread, Henry," she said, stepping away and not meeting his gaze. "I can't wait for dinner." She gave him another small smile and turned away from his stall, trying to calm her heart and even her breathing.
But Henry said, in pleased and expectant tones, "not a problem, Gwen. I can't wait for the future."
Gwen ducked her head and hurried away down the street without another word, her heart racing as quickly as her mind.