Sep 12, 2009 16:33
“It’s your birthday?” Morgana sounds shocked, as though she has never before considered Gwen capable of having such a thing as a birthday. “But why didn’t you say anything?” Gwen attempts not to blush as she brushes Morgana’s hair, tugging through a few tangles.
“I didn’t see a point,” she says, slowly, as methodical as the strokes that she uses to pull apart locks sticky from sword practice and other things Morgana shouldn’t be doing out at all hours.
“But we should be doing something!” exclaims Morgana. “Something fun! Or at least we should get Hilde to give us honeycakes.” As Morgana is always angling to get more honeycakes, Gwen sees nothing particularly celebratory about this. Still, she nods and continues with her deep, even strokes.
“I know!” The look Morgana gives Gwen in the mirror is, put mildly, conniving. “We’re about the same height, aren’t we, Gwen?”
“Er,” says Gwen, not sure she likes where this is going.
“Marvelous!” declares Morgana, and that is that.
~
“Morgana,” Arthur is saying as he walks through the door, “did you nail my armor to the roof of the kitchens again?”
He stops dead, though, upon seeing someone who is definitely not Morgana.
“Eek!” squeaks Gwen, and she darts being the changing screen, her dress flapping behind her theatrically. Arthur stands for a moment, blinking like an idiot at the area where Gwen used to be. He’s thirteen, not blind, and he’s pretty sure-
“Guinevere?”
Gwen’s head appears, somewhat like a turtle’s, from around the edge of the changing screen. “Hello, sire,” she says, and her eyes are scrunched up like they usually are when she is embarrassed. “Good morning.”
“Gwen, are you wearing one of Morgana’s dresses?”
Gwen shuffles awkwardly to the side. “Not . . . technically . . .” Her voice is beginning to die, which Arthur knows is a sure sign that in a few moments he won’t be able to get anything out of her at all.
“You are. Well, let’s see it, then.”
Gwen gives off a tortured “Meep!” that makes her sound like a mouse. “I really shouldn’t-Morgana just wanted to try-it was just some fun-she’ll be back-” At this point, it’s downright impossible to hear her without filling in the silent gaps himself, and he sighs melodramatically and marches into the room.
“It’s just a dress, Gwen,” he says, and he firmly believes that until he comes around the corner of the changing screen and finds her, hands full of laces, attempting to tug it off.
“Sire!” Her voice comes back with a vengeance and a healthy dose of scandalized shock.
“Gwen!” His voice cracks embarassingly on the ‘eh’ and he quickly shuffles backwards-into Morgana, who is standing there silently, looking very unamused. She has her I Am Going To Thrash You expression fixed on her face.
“Arthur Pendragon,” she thunders, and Arthur takes a moment to pray before turning on his heel and dashing towards the door. Morgana is still taller than he is, but what he lacks in leg length he makes up for in cunning and quicker turns at corners, and he’s out into the courtyard by the time he feels Morgana’s fist crash into the back of his neck.
“Oomph!” They fall with a clash onto the dust, and a collection of his father’s knights watch, somewhat bemused, as Morgana clutches his shirt around the neck and begins to shake him. “What were you doing?” she bellows, wrenching his head backwards and forwards.
“Shh-” Arthur tries to calm her down before she reveals what he inadvertently stepped into-the last thing he wants Sir Grummore (his swords instructor) and, more importantly, Sir Ulric (chivalry) to know is that he caught Morgana’s maid changing. “Morgana, shut up.”
“You are a bloody arse!” Morgana yells, and draws back her fist for what promises to be a truly painful punch. Arthur stands his ground, because he may be a scrappy fighter but he certainly doesn’t strike girls, even girls who are more hellion than female and occasionally deserve to be punched, especially when they’re being extremely annoying-but they are interrupted.
“My lady!” In a flutter of Morgana’s gown-Arthur notices that she managed to lace it up again quite quickly, and then lets his head drop because he should not be thinking that about Gwen-Gwen appears on the steps of the castle.
At this point, his father’s knights have given up any illusion of actual practice and are just watching. Arthur feels his face turn a steady sort of maroon, and taking advantage of Morgana’s pause, elbows her to the side and flips her off of him. “Gwen!”
“Yes, sire?” She pauses in her flight and takes the time to turn nervous, her hands clenching against one another at her waist. She really does look lovely-the dress is blue and has this lacy, gauzy thing across the top with ribbons or something, and Arthur doesn’t know the technical term for any of it, but he’s certainly appreciative of the effect it creates.
“I’m sorry,” he says, mindful to keep his voice low and praying that Gwen hasn’t magically picked up sadism from being around Morgana for too long.
“It’s all right,” she says, ducking her head. As he clambers to his feet, it is made almost immediately aware to Arthur that, in one area, Morgana’s dress fits Gwen more tightly than it fits its actual owner.
“Er,” he says, trying not to stare. “Uh. Right then. We’re, uh, we’re-good?”
Gwen bows, determinedly not looking at him (which is good, because his ears feel like they’re about to fall off), and shuffles past him to pick up Morgana, who is seething and seemingly debating whether or not she should take him out at the knees. “My lady,” she murmurs. “Lord Arthur.”
The stays of the dress look crooked from the back. Arthur doesn’t realize he’s staring until Grummore starts laughing, a big, body-shaking chuckle that makes Arthur want to beat him over the head with the pommel of his sword. Sir Grummore is about seven feet tall, though, so that seems unlikely.
“You’re still an arse!” floats down from Morgana’s windows, and he looks up in time to see Gwen closing it apologetically, shrugging a bit at Morgana’s proffered opinion. He catches her smile right before the curtains are drawn completely.
pairing: arthur/gwen,
cracktastic,
challenge: gwen battle,
fiction: fan,
the killers project,
fandom: merlin