Fic: When the Pawn Hits..
Title: When the Pawn Hits...
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, Morgana/Uther
Rating/word count: Gen / 687
Summary: Wherein Gwen is more savvy that the court of Camelot.
(I started this in S1, when Morgana/Uther was clearly there, I don't care where the plot's gone since then.)
Of course, the feast stretches on for hours and Gwen’s feet start to ache. All the servants are needed for now are the numerous refilling of cups. She pushes against the wall to discreetly stretch her back and feels Merlin bump her shoulder as he moves to stand beside her.
“It has to end soon," he moans, the very picture of a terrible manservant, all eyes cast heavenwards and reluctant service for what he views a waste of time. “I mean, we’re about to run out of wine.”
Uther must have overheard him as Merlin receives a glare that could kill a lesser man and Gwen pulls Merlin out of sight of the King. Whatever Merlin thinks, he does not want the King paying any more attention to him at this time.
Arthur and Merlin aren’t as subtle as they think.
Morgana and Arthur make small talk, strain evident to Gwen but seemingly masked for the rest of the court while Uther watches them carefully. The Royal Household has been fraught with tension lately , with things that were unspoken beginning to make themselves unavoidable.
It’s still unspoken at court, but whispers with the word ‘marriage’ have begun to appear, swirling individually and collectively around Arthur and Morgana. They’re both of age, and thrown together enough to spark talk. And the court isn’t as close as Gwen is to them to hear that their conversations at dinner are more sibling bickering than lovers’ parries.
A King visits, he brings a daughter who Arthur either makes stilted conversation with her before wandering out of the feast at an appropriate time. Talk is made of a match, but Arthur never comes close to declaring any affection and Uther, for all his stern authoritarian talk, never pushes Arthur to make a political match.
Or a King visits, presenting a son (or, sometimes in a wretched turn of events, himself) as a suitor for Morgana, and Gwen watches Uther attempt not to claw out his armrest as he watches simpering men try to woo his ward. Morgana, for her part, remains stony-faced throughout and proves herself to be cut from the same cloth as Uther, moreso than his son.
Gwen finds it hard to place when Uther and Morgana’s relationship changed; when they realised the the other as a person and not a charge and guardian. It’s inconspicuous, but Uther’s firm and fatherly grasp of the shoulder changed to a that half-frightened light clasp of the arms, like he doesn’t know how to approach her anymore. Morgana looks at the King sometimes, and caught up in her own thoughts, looks away distractedly, unnerved at her thoughts perhaps.
And Gwen attends her lady, stands at court, and sees it all.
The King would see it blasphemous to Queen Igraine, to find someone else he loves. It’s the ghost of Igraine, too, that stems his hand from forcing Arthur to marry, though he must know now that court awaits it with every visitation from any influential Lord.
Arthur, too, is more defensive these days. He used to accept the future match with wary resignation out of love for Camelot, but since Merlin came along... He sees Merlin’s false cheeriness when a Lord presents his daughter, as a derision of Arthur, whereas Gwen recognises the charade as being for Arthur’s benefit, a stoic resignation to the fact of kingship. Merlin, for all his ready smiles and clumsy talk, is as secretive a man as Gwen as ever met, though she knows in her gut he’s never lied to her.
It would be easier, Gwen knows, if Uther simply married Morgana and produced another son. Arthur would have an heir in a half-brother. It will never come to pass and some woman will be offered up a sacrifice to an allegiance of sorts. If the future queen has her wits about her, she’ll come to the marriage knowing that and allow Arthur to keep his companionship. They could work together, maybe not as lovers, but as comrades, for Camelot. But then, thinks Gwen, she’s just a servant - what would she know about such things?
Pairings: Arthur/Merlin, Morgana/Uther
Rating/word count: Gen / 687
Summary: Wherein Gwen is more savvy that the court of Camelot.
(I started this in S1, when Morgana/Uther was clearly there, I don't care where the plot's gone since then.)
Of course, the feast stretches on for hours and Gwen’s feet start to ache. All the servants are needed for now are the numerous refilling of cups. She pushes against the wall to discreetly stretch her back and feels Merlin bump her shoulder as he moves to stand beside her.
“It has to end soon," he moans, the very picture of a terrible manservant, all eyes cast heavenwards and reluctant service for what he views a waste of time. “I mean, we’re about to run out of wine.”
Uther must have overheard him as Merlin receives a glare that could kill a lesser man and Gwen pulls Merlin out of sight of the King. Whatever Merlin thinks, he does not want the King paying any more attention to him at this time.
Arthur and Merlin aren’t as subtle as they think.
Morgana and Arthur make small talk, strain evident to Gwen but seemingly masked for the rest of the court while Uther watches them carefully. The Royal Household has been fraught with tension lately , with things that were unspoken beginning to make themselves unavoidable.
It’s still unspoken at court, but whispers with the word ‘marriage’ have begun to appear, swirling individually and collectively around Arthur and Morgana. They’re both of age, and thrown together enough to spark talk. And the court isn’t as close as Gwen is to them to hear that their conversations at dinner are more sibling bickering than lovers’ parries.
A King visits, he brings a daughter who Arthur either makes stilted conversation with her before wandering out of the feast at an appropriate time. Talk is made of a match, but Arthur never comes close to declaring any affection and Uther, for all his stern authoritarian talk, never pushes Arthur to make a political match.
Or a King visits, presenting a son (or, sometimes in a wretched turn of events, himself) as a suitor for Morgana, and Gwen watches Uther attempt not to claw out his armrest as he watches simpering men try to woo his ward. Morgana, for her part, remains stony-faced throughout and proves herself to be cut from the same cloth as Uther, moreso than his son.
Gwen finds it hard to place when Uther and Morgana’s relationship changed; when they realised the the other as a person and not a charge and guardian. It’s inconspicuous, but Uther’s firm and fatherly grasp of the shoulder changed to a that half-frightened light clasp of the arms, like he doesn’t know how to approach her anymore. Morgana looks at the King sometimes, and caught up in her own thoughts, looks away distractedly, unnerved at her thoughts perhaps.
And Gwen attends her lady, stands at court, and sees it all.
The King would see it blasphemous to Queen Igraine, to find someone else he loves. It’s the ghost of Igraine, too, that stems his hand from forcing Arthur to marry, though he must know now that court awaits it with every visitation from any influential Lord.
Arthur, too, is more defensive these days. He used to accept the future match with wary resignation out of love for Camelot, but since Merlin came along... He sees Merlin’s false cheeriness when a Lord presents his daughter, as a derision of Arthur, whereas Gwen recognises the charade as being for Arthur’s benefit, a stoic resignation to the fact of kingship. Merlin, for all his ready smiles and clumsy talk, is as secretive a man as Gwen as ever met, though she knows in her gut he’s never lied to her.
It would be easier, Gwen knows, if Uther simply married Morgana and produced another son. Arthur would have an heir in a half-brother. It will never come to pass and some woman will be offered up a sacrifice to an allegiance of sorts. If the future queen has her wits about her, she’ll come to the marriage knowing that and allow Arthur to keep his companionship. They could work together, maybe not as lovers, but as comrades, for Camelot. But then, thinks Gwen, she’s just a servant - what would she know about such things?