rooted fast to the earth (gwen, gwen/arthur)
Title: rooted fast to the earth
Rating: (very mildly) R
Characters/Pairing: Gwen, Arthur, Merlin, Gaius (Gwen/Arthur)
Spoilers/Warnings: Everything in both seasons, particularly the end of season 2. Angst. Tiniest bit of suggestion(?).
Disclaimer: I don't own the show, its characters, etc. Also the title is taken from Snow Patrol's Signal Fire and the summary/prompt lyrics belong to The Smiths.
Summary: So please please please, let me, let me, let me, let me get what I want this time.
Author's Notes: This is for imigination in the Arthur/Gwen thingathon. I loved all your prompts, but instantly chose the third one and started thinking about how I would go about that...and then couldn't get very far with it, so I looked at your prompts again and prompt #1 caught hold of me, which is how this came about. This is a bit more Gwen-centric than straight up A/G, and it came out angstier than I intended (and you probably wanted), but I hope you enjoy it all the same.
She braces her hands against her chest; fingers wound tightly together as she surveys the broken Camelot that lies before her. She does not really mean to wish - it is not something she normally does - but after days of turmoil and fire and burning, Gwen looks up at the dark, smoky night sky, closes her eyes and thinks Please.
When two figures return, she runs to embrace the life that was spared, heart expanding with relief, acceptance - pleasure at being granted at least this.
But the next day the sun rises and there is much life that was lost, and the wants of a servant are nothing compared to the needs of a kingdom.
-
Morgana is a ghost in the castle, the shadow that lies behind her.
Gwen sometimes finds herself standing in front of the door to her chambers, knuckles bent against the hard wood, the scraping sound the only familiarity left as Uther has ordered all against touching the room, stating it must be kept exactly as she left it.
Arthur shakes his head at this ridiculousness. “Surely, if - when,” he rights with a glance at Gwen, “Morgana comes back she would not wish to find her chambers covered in dust.”
Gwen nods for something to do and they fall silent.
-
Gaius is always praising her skills; at cleaning, stitching, learning (he says the last while shooting a glare in Merlin’s direction). Gwen is surprised that she not only makes a good physician’s assistant, she enjoys the work too.
Mending others cannot put right what she has lost, but it is a start.
-
Arthur takes her hand gently, tentatively tugging her into darkened alcoves and corners, his fingertips feather-light against her curls.
When he states they will take things slowly, she feels it is less as a promise to her, but rather a warning, a reminder, to himself. Arthur has never denied himself anything before, and only does this because it is required, but Gwen desires caution as much as she needs it.
Arthur kisses her chastely, his lips sweeping against hers for no longer than is polite, one hand tenderly cupping her cheek while the other is planted on the wall for balance, a respectable distance from her body, the same length he stands from her.
She has nothing to lose except herself.
-
Merlin reminds her of Morgana, she thinks one day while she works quietly alongside Gaius in his chambers and Merlin steals away to his bed although it is only the afternoon.
Gwen remembers when she thought Merlin was more like herself, when she thought she could stand to be a little more like him; now they are both more alike than they were once, and still even less so. She thinks of the secrets she and Morgana did not tell each other and how Merlin already knows the only secret she has to keep, but she will not ask him his.
“You seem distant today, Gwen.”
She does not wish to lie, but the truth is not an option either. “I am just…trying to remember.”
Gaius looks at the page of the book open in front of her which he told her to study and smiles indulgently.
When Merlin comes out of his door Gwen thinks she sees a colour other than blue line his eyes, but she tells herself it was the reflection of the sunlight.
-
Uther roars into action when the castle receives news of a sighting of Morgana by immediately sending out Arthur with a group of men to track her once more. The party take longer than expected to return and one day Gwen’s feet start the way home and end outside Merlin’s room. But here she finds, for reasons she cannot quite grasp, that she must give comfort rather than receive, and the small space she usually finds cosy with two bodies to warm it feels colder than her house; small too by the same standards, but now always uncomfortably large for one.
When Arthur returns he does so with the exact number he set out; a victory in battle, but they are told by the hard set of Uther’s face it is a failure today.
The following night Gwen sits by the fire of her home, willing it to become warmer because she cannot put more wood on if her supply is to last for the whole month, and hears a knock on the door.
Arthur holds her, and she holds him back.
-
Gaius gives Gwen what she is vaguely certain is meant to be a smirk when he informs her that Merlin is ill, but as his load is so light he will not be needing her help so perhaps she should take Merlin’s place as Arthur’s servant for the day.
Gwen does her best not to flush when she agrees to Gaius’ suggestion, and then has to try again when Arthur stammers that there is very little he needs her to do.
She does all the duties she knows Merlin performs, not the duties Arthur lists for her, and finds the two hour break he insists she take boring after the first half, and goes to work scrubbing Gaius’ floor before tending to Merlin’s fever.
She returns to Arthur’s chambers at the agreed time with his polished boots in one hand, and a bunch of flowers in the other.
“These are yours,” Gwen states, setting the boots down in their proper place, “and so are these,” she adds with less conviction, still unsure what possessed her to pick them for him in the first place. “I thought they might look nice in your chambers. Brighten it up a little.”
“Thank you,” he says, taking the bunch uncertainly. The short stems seem dwarfed by his hand, the tiny yellow petals peeking out from the fist he has made around them. Arthur bends his head to peer at the flowers more closely, before his neck jerks sharply and he sneezes into them.
-
Merlin helps her carry her baskets home, leftover supplies from the castle waiting to be thrown away that will be invaluable to the people of the lower towns; still suffering from the aftermath of the dragon’s attack, even though the surface repairs have been completed.
“Are you sure they will have use for all of these?” he wonders, adjusting his hold on a basket containing a number of linens while he waits for her to open the door. “It does not seem like they would need so many.”
She places her baskets down on the table and forgets to answer him, surprised from her train of thought by the high pile of wooden logs that had not been there when she left that morning.
-
Gaius is peering over one of his books when Gwen brings in the flowers she picked for him, and he thanks her graciously.
“You have quite the eye,” he points out, setting them down on the table.
Her head ducks slightly, pleased at such an honest compliment. “I am glad you like them.”
Gaius bends down to scrutinise the petals, his white hair falling in front of his face, partly obscuring his expression from her vision so she cannot read him when he adds, “They will be very useful.”
A few hours later she sees him cutting them up with a knife to make a potion.
-
She sits on the side of Morgana’s bed, perched right on the edge as if she daren’t leave an imprint behind - for her own care of Morgana’s things, or fear of Uther’s wrath should he discover the spread tarnished, she does not know. Looking out the window into the midnight sky her thoughts that she believed were becoming clear turn murky.
Her heart stops when the door creaks open; the sight of Merlin’s face in the gap is soothing for its familiarity, and yet confusing still.
He looks equally mystified when he sees her. “I did not expect - I mean,” he alters suddenly, straightening both gaze and spine, “I was looking for you, but I had not really thought I would find you here.”
“Why?”
“Gaius wants your help with a patient.” Merlin never answers her question.
-
Arthur talks to her about all manner of things while he eats his dinner; his day, his thoughts, his plans. She flits about his chambers re-doing tasks Merlin has already performed adequately to validate to herself her reason for remaining there after bringing his tray, and he pretends that this is perfectly normal.
When she moves from fluffing the pillows on his bed, intending to straighten the curtains, she trips over her own feet, slamming her side into the corner of the table next to Arthur, causing his water goblet to fall.
“Oh! I’m sorry.” She turns quickly, and picks up her apron to soak up the water that had spilled onto the table as he rights the goblet.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” she repeats.
“Don’t worry about it. I had already drunk most of it anyway.”
And he had, as is evidenced by the puddle of what remained already having vanished into her apron.
“Guinevere, turn around.”
Gwen revolves slowly and she hopes the catching of her breath isn’t as loud as it feels in her throat when his hand gently brushes around her skirt. Two of his fingers hook around the edge of her apron and pull it back.
“There is some on your dress,” he explains, pressing the old cloth against the stain and she can feel his thumbprint searing onto the back of her knee.
“You only need to dab at it,” tumbles from her lips and his touch turns light so now all she can sense is the rustle of fabric against her bare leg as he carefully pats at her skirt. “It will dry,” she says, wondering why her words come out in a murmur.
He lets go of the apron and flattens his hand, his palm a whisper against the folds of her dress as it travels upward before the base of his wrist comes to rest against the part of her thigh she bumped into the table. The tips of his fingers are just - only just - short of her hipbone.
“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”
Gwen closes her eyes and thinks Yes.
“No. It doesn’t.”
-
Gaius tells her to take the day off and spend it outside enjoying the sunshine, but by the early afternoon her feet are already taking her back from her walk. Gwen is holding the flowers she has picked for herself, intending to drop them off at home before returning to the castle to find something to do, when she runs into Merlin. He beams at her, no burdens on his shoulders, no duties to see to, having evidently been told the same thing as she was by Gaius, and dismissed by Arthur. He looks so cheerful and happy and young that she wants to kiss the apple of his cheek, press her mouth against the curve of delight, but she settles for taking one of the flowers out of her modest little bunch and placing it into his palm.
Merlin grins wider, and hers grows with it because she didn’t think that was possible. He looks around for what to do with it before tucking it into the red kerchief tied around his neck with a laugh.
Her heart swells and she thinks of how things change and how they don’t.
-
She takes her flowers home and finds there is another waiting for them.
-
Gwen delivers her thank you sweetly, softly putting the happiness she felt at the gesture into her soft touch against his mouth.
Arthur’s “You’re welcome” is far less restrained, pressing her up against the wall in his chambers and tilting his head so he can kiss her hard.
Her heart pounds and she thinks of how things change.
Arthur’s lips travel down her neck and her hands cling onto his shoulders as his run everywhere, her arms, her back, her hips; the heat of him burning through their many, too many, layers of clothing.
She gasps when he groans her name just before his hands still underneath her breasts, clenching once, then letting go of her body entirely as an apology is mumbled against her collarbone.
She tilts her head in thought, the movement causing her lips to graze against his ear, and the shudder that runs through him decides her next course of action. She cups her hands around his, returning them to where they last lay, and Arthur utters something like a sigh, sinking into her.
Gwen closes her eyes.
Rating: (very mildly) R
Characters/Pairing: Gwen, Arthur, Merlin, Gaius (Gwen/Arthur)
Spoilers/Warnings: Everything in both seasons, particularly the end of season 2. Angst. Tiniest bit of suggestion(?).
Disclaimer: I don't own the show, its characters, etc. Also the title is taken from Snow Patrol's Signal Fire and the summary/prompt lyrics belong to The Smiths.
Summary: So please please please, let me, let me, let me, let me get what I want this time.
Author's Notes: This is for imigination in the Arthur/Gwen thingathon. I loved all your prompts, but instantly chose the third one and started thinking about how I would go about that...and then couldn't get very far with it, so I looked at your prompts again and prompt #1 caught hold of me, which is how this came about. This is a bit more Gwen-centric than straight up A/G, and it came out angstier than I intended (and you probably wanted), but I hope you enjoy it all the same.
She braces her hands against her chest; fingers wound tightly together as she surveys the broken Camelot that lies before her. She does not really mean to wish - it is not something she normally does - but after days of turmoil and fire and burning, Gwen looks up at the dark, smoky night sky, closes her eyes and thinks Please.
When two figures return, she runs to embrace the life that was spared, heart expanding with relief, acceptance - pleasure at being granted at least this.
But the next day the sun rises and there is much life that was lost, and the wants of a servant are nothing compared to the needs of a kingdom.
-
Morgana is a ghost in the castle, the shadow that lies behind her.
Gwen sometimes finds herself standing in front of the door to her chambers, knuckles bent against the hard wood, the scraping sound the only familiarity left as Uther has ordered all against touching the room, stating it must be kept exactly as she left it.
Arthur shakes his head at this ridiculousness. “Surely, if - when,” he rights with a glance at Gwen, “Morgana comes back she would not wish to find her chambers covered in dust.”
Gwen nods for something to do and they fall silent.
-
Gaius is always praising her skills; at cleaning, stitching, learning (he says the last while shooting a glare in Merlin’s direction). Gwen is surprised that she not only makes a good physician’s assistant, she enjoys the work too.
Mending others cannot put right what she has lost, but it is a start.
-
Arthur takes her hand gently, tentatively tugging her into darkened alcoves and corners, his fingertips feather-light against her curls.
When he states they will take things slowly, she feels it is less as a promise to her, but rather a warning, a reminder, to himself. Arthur has never denied himself anything before, and only does this because it is required, but Gwen desires caution as much as she needs it.
Arthur kisses her chastely, his lips sweeping against hers for no longer than is polite, one hand tenderly cupping her cheek while the other is planted on the wall for balance, a respectable distance from her body, the same length he stands from her.
She has nothing to lose except herself.
-
Merlin reminds her of Morgana, she thinks one day while she works quietly alongside Gaius in his chambers and Merlin steals away to his bed although it is only the afternoon.
Gwen remembers when she thought Merlin was more like herself, when she thought she could stand to be a little more like him; now they are both more alike than they were once, and still even less so. She thinks of the secrets she and Morgana did not tell each other and how Merlin already knows the only secret she has to keep, but she will not ask him his.
“You seem distant today, Gwen.”
She does not wish to lie, but the truth is not an option either. “I am just…trying to remember.”
Gaius looks at the page of the book open in front of her which he told her to study and smiles indulgently.
When Merlin comes out of his door Gwen thinks she sees a colour other than blue line his eyes, but she tells herself it was the reflection of the sunlight.
-
Uther roars into action when the castle receives news of a sighting of Morgana by immediately sending out Arthur with a group of men to track her once more. The party take longer than expected to return and one day Gwen’s feet start the way home and end outside Merlin’s room. But here she finds, for reasons she cannot quite grasp, that she must give comfort rather than receive, and the small space she usually finds cosy with two bodies to warm it feels colder than her house; small too by the same standards, but now always uncomfortably large for one.
When Arthur returns he does so with the exact number he set out; a victory in battle, but they are told by the hard set of Uther’s face it is a failure today.
The following night Gwen sits by the fire of her home, willing it to become warmer because she cannot put more wood on if her supply is to last for the whole month, and hears a knock on the door.
Arthur holds her, and she holds him back.
-
Gaius gives Gwen what she is vaguely certain is meant to be a smirk when he informs her that Merlin is ill, but as his load is so light he will not be needing her help so perhaps she should take Merlin’s place as Arthur’s servant for the day.
Gwen does her best not to flush when she agrees to Gaius’ suggestion, and then has to try again when Arthur stammers that there is very little he needs her to do.
She does all the duties she knows Merlin performs, not the duties Arthur lists for her, and finds the two hour break he insists she take boring after the first half, and goes to work scrubbing Gaius’ floor before tending to Merlin’s fever.
She returns to Arthur’s chambers at the agreed time with his polished boots in one hand, and a bunch of flowers in the other.
“These are yours,” Gwen states, setting the boots down in their proper place, “and so are these,” she adds with less conviction, still unsure what possessed her to pick them for him in the first place. “I thought they might look nice in your chambers. Brighten it up a little.”
“Thank you,” he says, taking the bunch uncertainly. The short stems seem dwarfed by his hand, the tiny yellow petals peeking out from the fist he has made around them. Arthur bends his head to peer at the flowers more closely, before his neck jerks sharply and he sneezes into them.
-
Merlin helps her carry her baskets home, leftover supplies from the castle waiting to be thrown away that will be invaluable to the people of the lower towns; still suffering from the aftermath of the dragon’s attack, even though the surface repairs have been completed.
“Are you sure they will have use for all of these?” he wonders, adjusting his hold on a basket containing a number of linens while he waits for her to open the door. “It does not seem like they would need so many.”
She places her baskets down on the table and forgets to answer him, surprised from her train of thought by the high pile of wooden logs that had not been there when she left that morning.
-
Gaius is peering over one of his books when Gwen brings in the flowers she picked for him, and he thanks her graciously.
“You have quite the eye,” he points out, setting them down on the table.
Her head ducks slightly, pleased at such an honest compliment. “I am glad you like them.”
Gaius bends down to scrutinise the petals, his white hair falling in front of his face, partly obscuring his expression from her vision so she cannot read him when he adds, “They will be very useful.”
A few hours later she sees him cutting them up with a knife to make a potion.
-
She sits on the side of Morgana’s bed, perched right on the edge as if she daren’t leave an imprint behind - for her own care of Morgana’s things, or fear of Uther’s wrath should he discover the spread tarnished, she does not know. Looking out the window into the midnight sky her thoughts that she believed were becoming clear turn murky.
Her heart stops when the door creaks open; the sight of Merlin’s face in the gap is soothing for its familiarity, and yet confusing still.
He looks equally mystified when he sees her. “I did not expect - I mean,” he alters suddenly, straightening both gaze and spine, “I was looking for you, but I had not really thought I would find you here.”
“Why?”
“Gaius wants your help with a patient.” Merlin never answers her question.
-
Arthur talks to her about all manner of things while he eats his dinner; his day, his thoughts, his plans. She flits about his chambers re-doing tasks Merlin has already performed adequately to validate to herself her reason for remaining there after bringing his tray, and he pretends that this is perfectly normal.
When she moves from fluffing the pillows on his bed, intending to straighten the curtains, she trips over her own feet, slamming her side into the corner of the table next to Arthur, causing his water goblet to fall.
“Oh! I’m sorry.” She turns quickly, and picks up her apron to soak up the water that had spilled onto the table as he rights the goblet.
“Are you alright?”
“Yes, I’m sorry,” she repeats.
“Don’t worry about it. I had already drunk most of it anyway.”
And he had, as is evidenced by the puddle of what remained already having vanished into her apron.
“Guinevere, turn around.”
Gwen revolves slowly and she hopes the catching of her breath isn’t as loud as it feels in her throat when his hand gently brushes around her skirt. Two of his fingers hook around the edge of her apron and pull it back.
“There is some on your dress,” he explains, pressing the old cloth against the stain and she can feel his thumbprint searing onto the back of her knee.
“You only need to dab at it,” tumbles from her lips and his touch turns light so now all she can sense is the rustle of fabric against her bare leg as he carefully pats at her skirt. “It will dry,” she says, wondering why her words come out in a murmur.
He lets go of the apron and flattens his hand, his palm a whisper against the folds of her dress as it travels upward before the base of his wrist comes to rest against the part of her thigh she bumped into the table. The tips of his fingers are just - only just - short of her hipbone.
“It doesn’t hurt, does it?”
Gwen closes her eyes and thinks Yes.
“No. It doesn’t.”
-
Gaius tells her to take the day off and spend it outside enjoying the sunshine, but by the early afternoon her feet are already taking her back from her walk. Gwen is holding the flowers she has picked for herself, intending to drop them off at home before returning to the castle to find something to do, when she runs into Merlin. He beams at her, no burdens on his shoulders, no duties to see to, having evidently been told the same thing as she was by Gaius, and dismissed by Arthur. He looks so cheerful and happy and young that she wants to kiss the apple of his cheek, press her mouth against the curve of delight, but she settles for taking one of the flowers out of her modest little bunch and placing it into his palm.
Merlin grins wider, and hers grows with it because she didn’t think that was possible. He looks around for what to do with it before tucking it into the red kerchief tied around his neck with a laugh.
Her heart swells and she thinks of how things change and how they don’t.
-
She takes her flowers home and finds there is another waiting for them.
-
Gwen delivers her thank you sweetly, softly putting the happiness she felt at the gesture into her soft touch against his mouth.
Arthur’s “You’re welcome” is far less restrained, pressing her up against the wall in his chambers and tilting his head so he can kiss her hard.
Her heart pounds and she thinks of how things change.
Arthur’s lips travel down her neck and her hands cling onto his shoulders as his run everywhere, her arms, her back, her hips; the heat of him burning through their many, too many, layers of clothing.
She gasps when he groans her name just before his hands still underneath her breasts, clenching once, then letting go of her body entirely as an apology is mumbled against her collarbone.
She tilts her head in thought, the movement causing her lips to graze against his ear, and the shudder that runs through him decides her next course of action. She cups her hands around his, returning them to where they last lay, and Arthur utters something like a sigh, sinking into her.
Gwen closes her eyes.