Fanfic: His Equal (Arthur/Gwen)
Title: His Equal
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Arthur/Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 603
Note: My entry for Arthur/Gwen's Last Author Standing Competition Round 1.
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The first explosion, even amidst many bells’ ringing tolls and the people’s boisterous cheers, was deafening. Arthur frowned, and then gaped, eyes fixed on the sudden burst of light which rent his night sky. Merry gold, followed by extravagant red, lively green, and a trace of stunning blue before the sparks suddenly vanished from the moonless canvas. A second explosion marked the birth of another-more magnificent, more magical than the last.
The crowd’s cheering grew and Arthur could not resist the temptation of a smile. To share his people’s joy, he knew from his father’s example, was a rare privilege that a king often dismissed without a second thought-but he was no such king.
“Even you now must admit that Merlin’s idea of celebration isn’t half bad.”
Arthur’s smile widened at his wife’s comment. She stood at his side, one hand resting the stone parapet, eyes riveted by the brilliant sparks painting the sky.
“He does have his uses, that Merlin,” he admitted.
Guinevere laughed. “To say the least. I don’t think anyone has ever seen anything like this. It’s a wondrous thing to behold.”
It was, he thought, and yet the work of magic it remained, and such was an unfailing reminder of his father; a father driven to madness and death by the curse of a witch, the daughter Uther Pendragon loved more than anyone. The mere thought of it turned Arthur’s blood into ice.
“Arthur?” Guinevere’s hand reached for his, a sudden, blessed warmth in the numbing cold. He offered her another smile but it was distant, wearied; dark footprints those memories left in his mind were fresh still, despite the months spanning between then and now.
“If only magic could be as beautiful and harmless every time,” he murmured plaintively.
Her features softened to understanding. Very few people knew that he came from the arms of magic as much his mother’s womb-and even after one year of knowing, Arthur would only approach that knowledge in private. Now he stood bared, open, as vulnerable as a child before this woman he had vowed to love and respect for the rest of his life, while magic waged a war inside him.
“It might be better in some ways,” Guinevere replied and her voice was not all softness he had come to expect from his gentle wife. “Forgive me, but I don’t wish for that world.”
Arthur stared at her in surprise, meeting her calm, solemn gaze that always cut deep into his very soul. “Even if it would mean that our fathers-”
He paused, the rest of his words stemmed by a finger on his lips. “There is no use speaking of things you cannot change, Arthur,” she spoke again, still with the same undertone of steel, softened only by the old sadness which suddenly bloomed in her eyes. “Especially now that the things you can change are already keeping your hands full.”
For a long moment, he could not speak. Guinevere returned his stare in silence, colours rippling across her skin as another fanfare of fireworks blazed in the sky, and he suddenly knew why he had challenged his father and the rest of the world for the sake of her hand in marriage. This woman was his choice, his victory, the measure of his destiny.
And that was when he leaned in to kiss her.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Arthur whispered against her lips, watching the sparks mirrored in her dark eyes. Guinevere laughed and the sound warmed him like no fire or ale ever had.
His wife, his Queen of Hearts, she was his equal.
---
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Arthur/Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 603
Note: My entry for Arthur/Gwen's Last Author Standing Competition Round 1.
---
The first explosion, even amidst many bells’ ringing tolls and the people’s boisterous cheers, was deafening. Arthur frowned, and then gaped, eyes fixed on the sudden burst of light which rent his night sky. Merry gold, followed by extravagant red, lively green, and a trace of stunning blue before the sparks suddenly vanished from the moonless canvas. A second explosion marked the birth of another-more magnificent, more magical than the last.
The crowd’s cheering grew and Arthur could not resist the temptation of a smile. To share his people’s joy, he knew from his father’s example, was a rare privilege that a king often dismissed without a second thought-but he was no such king.
“Even you now must admit that Merlin’s idea of celebration isn’t half bad.”
Arthur’s smile widened at his wife’s comment. She stood at his side, one hand resting the stone parapet, eyes riveted by the brilliant sparks painting the sky.
“He does have his uses, that Merlin,” he admitted.
Guinevere laughed. “To say the least. I don’t think anyone has ever seen anything like this. It’s a wondrous thing to behold.”
It was, he thought, and yet the work of magic it remained, and such was an unfailing reminder of his father; a father driven to madness and death by the curse of a witch, the daughter Uther Pendragon loved more than anyone. The mere thought of it turned Arthur’s blood into ice.
“Arthur?” Guinevere’s hand reached for his, a sudden, blessed warmth in the numbing cold. He offered her another smile but it was distant, wearied; dark footprints those memories left in his mind were fresh still, despite the months spanning between then and now.
“If only magic could be as beautiful and harmless every time,” he murmured plaintively.
Her features softened to understanding. Very few people knew that he came from the arms of magic as much his mother’s womb-and even after one year of knowing, Arthur would only approach that knowledge in private. Now he stood bared, open, as vulnerable as a child before this woman he had vowed to love and respect for the rest of his life, while magic waged a war inside him.
“It might be better in some ways,” Guinevere replied and her voice was not all softness he had come to expect from his gentle wife. “Forgive me, but I don’t wish for that world.”
Arthur stared at her in surprise, meeting her calm, solemn gaze that always cut deep into his very soul. “Even if it would mean that our fathers-”
He paused, the rest of his words stemmed by a finger on his lips. “There is no use speaking of things you cannot change, Arthur,” she spoke again, still with the same undertone of steel, softened only by the old sadness which suddenly bloomed in her eyes. “Especially now that the things you can change are already keeping your hands full.”
For a long moment, he could not speak. Guinevere returned his stare in silence, colours rippling across her skin as another fanfare of fireworks blazed in the sky, and he suddenly knew why he had challenged his father and the rest of the world for the sake of her hand in marriage. This woman was his choice, his victory, the measure of his destiny.
And that was when he leaned in to kiss her.
“Yes, Your Majesty,” Arthur whispered against her lips, watching the sparks mirrored in her dark eyes. Guinevere laughed and the sound warmed him like no fire or ale ever had.
His wife, his Queen of Hearts, she was his equal.
---