Fic: Numbered Days
Title: Numbered Days
Author: bana05
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen, Merlin
Spoilers: Up to Merlin 3.04
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs BBC; I'm just borrowing
Summary: Gwen muses on the longevity of certain relationships.
Author’s notes: I hope you enjoy and please forgive errors! I started writing this before episode five, but hopefully it makes sense...well, as much sense as it can!
~~~~
There was a feast after the melee, and Gwen wished she were more excited about it. Morgana didn’t seem very thrilled about it, either, sighing and dallying as she helped her mistress prepare for the evening’s event. Before her disappearance, Gwen would’ve spoken about how handsome and brave the knights had been during the fighting and smile when Morgana ticked off the reasons why none of them was impressive enough for her, and they would share a little giggle because they both knew Morgana would control them all as if they were puppets with her bearing and beauty.
Gwen’s mother Melanie had warned about forming friendships with her betters. They were fleeting and rarely in the lessers' command.
“You are only as good to them for when they need you; after that, you are discarded along with the dirty linens, dorm-bu-gegain*. Not everyone is Queen Ygraine.”
Gwen remembered her mother had brushed the fat swell of her cheek with a soapy hand as they’d been in the kitchens washing dishes, and the two ladies had giggled softly when suds remained on Gwen’s face. Gwen had dried them away on her mother’s skirt with a hug, the levity of that moment outweighing the gravity of the one before.
Gwen had been remiss in remembering that warning.
“Ouch! Gwen! I need to breathe!”
Gwen gasped and dropped the ribbons she’d been tightening about the small of Morgana’s back. “I’m sorry, milady! I did not realize--”
“Obviously not! Daydreaming the way you are; can you not think of Arthur for two moments?”
Gwen’s eyes widened and flew to her mistress’s. A slap would have been more damning. The scowl on Morgana’s face softened at Gwen’s stricken expression.
“Oh, Gwen, dear, I am sorry. That was quite cross of me.”
“It is all right, milady. I shall not be so inattentive in the future.” Gwen kept her eyes averted and finished tying the ribbon. She didn’t bother confessing she’d been thinking of her mother or of the relationship she and Morgana had had. Both were long gone, never to return.
Merlin had tried to keep her entertained during the feast, making every attempt to catch her eyes and pull funny faces, but Gwen didn’t allow herself to be distracted. She certainly didn’t watch Arthur as she’d done in the past, and had resolved not to unless he addressed her directly. Morgana asked little of her all evening, and Gwen was unsure if it were an extension of her earlier apology or if she were unneeded. Nevertheless, Gwen remained in the hall until Morgana retired for the evening. Few words were spoken between mistress and servant save for soft “goodnights” upon Gwen’s leave. There was a time before Morgana would have asked Gwen to stay so they could stay up and talk. There was a time Gwen would’ve stayed to help her mistress have peaceful slumber. Yet, they did not talk anymore, and Gwen did not know if Morgana’s sleep was restful or not.
It was no longer her place, it seemed.
The comparative silence of the courtyard was much welcomed, though strains of the festivities could still be heard. The walk to her home was uneventful; few were still up at such a late hour. This fact worked to her advantage, however--no one would bother her in this.
She didn’t take off her cloak, but she did light a torch and grab a small blade and her slingshot before stealing back out into the night. She left the safety of Camelot’s bastions for a small field not too far away. Once she reached her destination, Gwen simply stood there, gripping the torch’s handle so hard splinters would find new homes in her palm if she weren’t careful.
“I miss you,” she said, the headstone swimming in her eyes as tears filled them. “I miss you so much!”
There was no dramatic sobbing or falling upon the modest grave. Tom deserved more dignity than that. He’d taught her to forge and wield a sword with the same alacrity her mother had taught her to make and shoot a sling; and even though Tom’s lessons had been more subtle, more in the doing than in the telling, they were just as indelible. He’d been there after her mother had left and had continued imparting her wisdom as best he could. He kept speaking her mother’s language even though he’d truly known less of it than even Gwen did. Through Tom had been the last remaining connection of her mother, and it had been many months since she’d felt the loss of both parents so keenly.
“Gwen?”
She started, then turned to see both Arthur and Merlin behind her, concern etched on their faces. Gwen chuckled slightly and brushed away her tears.
“My lord,” she greeted Arthur with a curtsy. “Merlin,” she said and bowed her head. “Quite the detour to your quarters, sire.”
“We were worried. Are you all right?”
“She’s obviously not all right, Merlin,” Arthur answered, approaching Gwen and framing her face in his hands. He brushed more tears away with his thumbs. “What’s wrong, Gwen?”
She suddenly felt very silly for her previous melancholy. Just when she’d thought she was all alone, two of the people she’d come to care about the most had come seen about her. So she granted them a small smile and nod.
“I’m fine, sire.”
“You’re in a cemetery, alone, in the middle of the night, and crying,” Arthur replied. “That’s not ‘fine’.”
The smile became tremulous and she ducked her head. Arthur was getting much better at reading her moods, and Merlin’s open concern was too much for her to bear. “I did not want to be so alone tonight, and I missed my parents.”
Two arms suddenly engulfed her, and she laughed in genuine surprise.
“You’re not alone, Gwen!” Merlin declared, using his free hand to punch the air with the torch he held. “We’re here for you!”
“And now you can leave!” Arthur added, pushing his manservant out of the embrace with the fist that held his torch and pulling Gwen deeper into his chest.
“You are so rude,” Merlin muttered and tsked. Gwen looked over her shoulder at him. “Not even asking Gwen her opinion on the matter--”
“She wants you to leave too.”
“Oi! I like that--how can you know when she’s yet to say a word?” Merlin asked, placing his hands on his hips. “What, you can read minds, now?”
Interested in the prince’s response, Gwen faced the blond man again. When she met his eyes, she gasped. The flames from the torches danced in his eyes, leaving her spellbound. And as much as Gwen adored Merlin, she did need to speak to Arthur in private.
A corner of Arthur’s full mouth lifted. “See, I was right, Merlin. Time for you to go.”
Merlin grunted, but managed to wrap his arm around her waist from behind and squeeze her in one last goodbye hug. He even whispered nonsense in her ear to the point it made her giggle and Arthur almost turn Camelot red.
“You have one more moment before those become your last words,” Arthur warned him.
Merlin immediately left.
“He has more cheek than warranted,” Arthur mumbled once Merlin was out of earshot.
“He is wonderful and you know it,” Gwen returned.
Arthur rolled his eyes but took their torches and shoved them into the ground. She smiled when he wrapped both arms around her this time and could internally admit it was nice she could do the same in return.
“Much better,” he determined.
She shook her head. “What am I going to do with you, Arthur Pendragon?”
“I can think of numerous lurid things,” he teased, bending his head down. “But this will suffice for now...”
The kiss was soft, chaste, and exactly what needed to start crying again. Arthur’s mouth moved over hers with care and deliberation, making her tighten her arms about his waist in a vain attempt to keep him near.
“Guinevere?” he asked upon breaking the kiss.
She squeezed her eyes shut then opened them again and shook her head rapidly. “I shouldn’t have gotten so attached to you, sire. In fact, I should go--”
Arthur’s hold almost turned as severe as the frown he now sported. “What is this?” he asked, and his tender tone made tears spring faster in her eyes. “Love, tell me.”
Her inhalation became a sob without her permission, and she spun so her back pressed against Arthur’s chest. She stared at her father’s headstone again, calling on every scrap of self control not to fall into Arthur when he began kneading her shoulders.
“I have selfishly and perhaps unwisely let my affection for you sprout hopes that have little chance of coming into fruition,” Gwen said, glad her voice had smoothed out to unwavering calm. “My mother had warned me of such a predicament, and I did not listen.”
His hands squeezed her shoulders. “Predicament?”
Gwen took a deep breath. Arthur leaned forward so he could look into her eyes. Drawn to him, she let her nose touch his. “Why I am I so in your mercy, Arthur? Before I couldn’t wait to be rid of you; now my heart trips whenever I just hear your name!”
“I was an annoying little bugger back then,” Arthur said with much fondness, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I really fancied your mother.”
Gwen had to smile also. “She was lovely.”
His finger trailed down the bridge of her nose. “You take after her.”
She immediately shook her head. “I look more like my father.”
“I don’t mean looks, although Tom obviously would have made a beautiful woman,” he teased.
Laughing, Gwen ducked her head, her face as hot as the torchlight. It stunned her there had been a time Arthur wouldn’t even glance in her direction; but now every time she looked up, it seemed his eyes were waiting for hers. He’d changed so much to her--from annoying, spoiled little brother to arrogant, spoiled prince to amorous, sweet, maturing future king. And though he could still be arrogant, those moments are far less frequent than before.
He would be a wonderful ruler one day.
The good humor that had swelled deflated again as she got back on track. Her fingers worried the rough muslin of her cloak. She started and stopped numerous times, until finally the words burst from her throat.
“I miss Morgana! I couldn’t bear it if I lose you too!”
Arthur hugged her, his fingers tangling in her hair and his lips touching the top of her head.
“You will never lose me,” he vowed.
He smelled of mead, roasted chicken, and earth. Gwen nuzzled her nose against the column of his neck to capture that scent for all time, just in case the vow had to be broken. In all her years, she’d never thought Morgana would change to who she was now, someone who snapped at her without provocation, someone who didn’t regard her enough to even say hello. Gwen had used to have quiet pride her mistress respected everyone regardless of standing, but she had no right to feel the betrayal she currently did. If anything, there relationship was now set to rights from the irregular equality of before. Maybe she and Arthur should go back to the time when he’d forgotten she’d existed.
“I have been in the libraries, Guinevere, looking for any loophole I can find to make you my wife,” Arthur told her. “Don’t prepare yourself for a life without me, for I will never accept one without you.”
Melanie’s warning flew right out of her head as Arthur’s words settled in her heart. She had faith in him, always had. And though her mother had been right about not all nobles being like Queen Ygraine, Gwen had to trust her son would be.
She stood on tiptoe and spoke into his ear. “I will always love you, Arthur. Not just as my sovereign, but as a man.”
Arthur kissed her firmly, his tongue stroking hers for a brief moment. “Your man, Guinevere. Always.”
Gwen kissed him again with everything she had. That vow she could certainly keep, even if only in her heart.
*dorm-bu-gegain--daughter in the Wolof language
Author: bana05
Rating: PG
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen, Merlin
Spoilers: Up to Merlin 3.04
Disclaimer: Merlin belongs BBC; I'm just borrowing
Summary: Gwen muses on the longevity of certain relationships.
Author’s notes: I hope you enjoy and please forgive errors! I started writing this before episode five, but hopefully it makes sense...well, as much sense as it can!
~~~~
There was a feast after the melee, and Gwen wished she were more excited about it. Morgana didn’t seem very thrilled about it, either, sighing and dallying as she helped her mistress prepare for the evening’s event. Before her disappearance, Gwen would’ve spoken about how handsome and brave the knights had been during the fighting and smile when Morgana ticked off the reasons why none of them was impressive enough for her, and they would share a little giggle because they both knew Morgana would control them all as if they were puppets with her bearing and beauty.
Gwen’s mother Melanie had warned about forming friendships with her betters. They were fleeting and rarely in the lessers' command.
“You are only as good to them for when they need you; after that, you are discarded along with the dirty linens, dorm-bu-gegain*. Not everyone is Queen Ygraine.”
Gwen remembered her mother had brushed the fat swell of her cheek with a soapy hand as they’d been in the kitchens washing dishes, and the two ladies had giggled softly when suds remained on Gwen’s face. Gwen had dried them away on her mother’s skirt with a hug, the levity of that moment outweighing the gravity of the one before.
Gwen had been remiss in remembering that warning.
“Ouch! Gwen! I need to breathe!”
Gwen gasped and dropped the ribbons she’d been tightening about the small of Morgana’s back. “I’m sorry, milady! I did not realize--”
“Obviously not! Daydreaming the way you are; can you not think of Arthur for two moments?”
Gwen’s eyes widened and flew to her mistress’s. A slap would have been more damning. The scowl on Morgana’s face softened at Gwen’s stricken expression.
“Oh, Gwen, dear, I am sorry. That was quite cross of me.”
“It is all right, milady. I shall not be so inattentive in the future.” Gwen kept her eyes averted and finished tying the ribbon. She didn’t bother confessing she’d been thinking of her mother or of the relationship she and Morgana had had. Both were long gone, never to return.
Merlin had tried to keep her entertained during the feast, making every attempt to catch her eyes and pull funny faces, but Gwen didn’t allow herself to be distracted. She certainly didn’t watch Arthur as she’d done in the past, and had resolved not to unless he addressed her directly. Morgana asked little of her all evening, and Gwen was unsure if it were an extension of her earlier apology or if she were unneeded. Nevertheless, Gwen remained in the hall until Morgana retired for the evening. Few words were spoken between mistress and servant save for soft “goodnights” upon Gwen’s leave. There was a time before Morgana would have asked Gwen to stay so they could stay up and talk. There was a time Gwen would’ve stayed to help her mistress have peaceful slumber. Yet, they did not talk anymore, and Gwen did not know if Morgana’s sleep was restful or not.
It was no longer her place, it seemed.
The comparative silence of the courtyard was much welcomed, though strains of the festivities could still be heard. The walk to her home was uneventful; few were still up at such a late hour. This fact worked to her advantage, however--no one would bother her in this.
She didn’t take off her cloak, but she did light a torch and grab a small blade and her slingshot before stealing back out into the night. She left the safety of Camelot’s bastions for a small field not too far away. Once she reached her destination, Gwen simply stood there, gripping the torch’s handle so hard splinters would find new homes in her palm if she weren’t careful.
“I miss you,” she said, the headstone swimming in her eyes as tears filled them. “I miss you so much!”
There was no dramatic sobbing or falling upon the modest grave. Tom deserved more dignity than that. He’d taught her to forge and wield a sword with the same alacrity her mother had taught her to make and shoot a sling; and even though Tom’s lessons had been more subtle, more in the doing than in the telling, they were just as indelible. He’d been there after her mother had left and had continued imparting her wisdom as best he could. He kept speaking her mother’s language even though he’d truly known less of it than even Gwen did. Through Tom had been the last remaining connection of her mother, and it had been many months since she’d felt the loss of both parents so keenly.
“Gwen?”
She started, then turned to see both Arthur and Merlin behind her, concern etched on their faces. Gwen chuckled slightly and brushed away her tears.
“My lord,” she greeted Arthur with a curtsy. “Merlin,” she said and bowed her head. “Quite the detour to your quarters, sire.”
“We were worried. Are you all right?”
“She’s obviously not all right, Merlin,” Arthur answered, approaching Gwen and framing her face in his hands. He brushed more tears away with his thumbs. “What’s wrong, Gwen?”
She suddenly felt very silly for her previous melancholy. Just when she’d thought she was all alone, two of the people she’d come to care about the most had come seen about her. So she granted them a small smile and nod.
“I’m fine, sire.”
“You’re in a cemetery, alone, in the middle of the night, and crying,” Arthur replied. “That’s not ‘fine’.”
The smile became tremulous and she ducked her head. Arthur was getting much better at reading her moods, and Merlin’s open concern was too much for her to bear. “I did not want to be so alone tonight, and I missed my parents.”
Two arms suddenly engulfed her, and she laughed in genuine surprise.
“You’re not alone, Gwen!” Merlin declared, using his free hand to punch the air with the torch he held. “We’re here for you!”
“And now you can leave!” Arthur added, pushing his manservant out of the embrace with the fist that held his torch and pulling Gwen deeper into his chest.
“You are so rude,” Merlin muttered and tsked. Gwen looked over her shoulder at him. “Not even asking Gwen her opinion on the matter--”
“She wants you to leave too.”
“Oi! I like that--how can you know when she’s yet to say a word?” Merlin asked, placing his hands on his hips. “What, you can read minds, now?”
Interested in the prince’s response, Gwen faced the blond man again. When she met his eyes, she gasped. The flames from the torches danced in his eyes, leaving her spellbound. And as much as Gwen adored Merlin, she did need to speak to Arthur in private.
A corner of Arthur’s full mouth lifted. “See, I was right, Merlin. Time for you to go.”
Merlin grunted, but managed to wrap his arm around her waist from behind and squeeze her in one last goodbye hug. He even whispered nonsense in her ear to the point it made her giggle and Arthur almost turn Camelot red.
“You have one more moment before those become your last words,” Arthur warned him.
Merlin immediately left.
“He has more cheek than warranted,” Arthur mumbled once Merlin was out of earshot.
“He is wonderful and you know it,” Gwen returned.
Arthur rolled his eyes but took their torches and shoved them into the ground. She smiled when he wrapped both arms around her this time and could internally admit it was nice she could do the same in return.
“Much better,” he determined.
She shook her head. “What am I going to do with you, Arthur Pendragon?”
“I can think of numerous lurid things,” he teased, bending his head down. “But this will suffice for now...”
The kiss was soft, chaste, and exactly what needed to start crying again. Arthur’s mouth moved over hers with care and deliberation, making her tighten her arms about his waist in a vain attempt to keep him near.
“Guinevere?” he asked upon breaking the kiss.
She squeezed her eyes shut then opened them again and shook her head rapidly. “I shouldn’t have gotten so attached to you, sire. In fact, I should go--”
Arthur’s hold almost turned as severe as the frown he now sported. “What is this?” he asked, and his tender tone made tears spring faster in her eyes. “Love, tell me.”
Her inhalation became a sob without her permission, and she spun so her back pressed against Arthur’s chest. She stared at her father’s headstone again, calling on every scrap of self control not to fall into Arthur when he began kneading her shoulders.
“I have selfishly and perhaps unwisely let my affection for you sprout hopes that have little chance of coming into fruition,” Gwen said, glad her voice had smoothed out to unwavering calm. “My mother had warned me of such a predicament, and I did not listen.”
His hands squeezed her shoulders. “Predicament?”
Gwen took a deep breath. Arthur leaned forward so he could look into her eyes. Drawn to him, she let her nose touch his. “Why I am I so in your mercy, Arthur? Before I couldn’t wait to be rid of you; now my heart trips whenever I just hear your name!”
“I was an annoying little bugger back then,” Arthur said with much fondness, the corners of his eyes crinkling. “I really fancied your mother.”
Gwen had to smile also. “She was lovely.”
His finger trailed down the bridge of her nose. “You take after her.”
She immediately shook her head. “I look more like my father.”
“I don’t mean looks, although Tom obviously would have made a beautiful woman,” he teased.
Laughing, Gwen ducked her head, her face as hot as the torchlight. It stunned her there had been a time Arthur wouldn’t even glance in her direction; but now every time she looked up, it seemed his eyes were waiting for hers. He’d changed so much to her--from annoying, spoiled little brother to arrogant, spoiled prince to amorous, sweet, maturing future king. And though he could still be arrogant, those moments are far less frequent than before.
He would be a wonderful ruler one day.
The good humor that had swelled deflated again as she got back on track. Her fingers worried the rough muslin of her cloak. She started and stopped numerous times, until finally the words burst from her throat.
“I miss Morgana! I couldn’t bear it if I lose you too!”
Arthur hugged her, his fingers tangling in her hair and his lips touching the top of her head.
“You will never lose me,” he vowed.
He smelled of mead, roasted chicken, and earth. Gwen nuzzled her nose against the column of his neck to capture that scent for all time, just in case the vow had to be broken. In all her years, she’d never thought Morgana would change to who she was now, someone who snapped at her without provocation, someone who didn’t regard her enough to even say hello. Gwen had used to have quiet pride her mistress respected everyone regardless of standing, but she had no right to feel the betrayal she currently did. If anything, there relationship was now set to rights from the irregular equality of before. Maybe she and Arthur should go back to the time when he’d forgotten she’d existed.
“I have been in the libraries, Guinevere, looking for any loophole I can find to make you my wife,” Arthur told her. “Don’t prepare yourself for a life without me, for I will never accept one without you.”
Melanie’s warning flew right out of her head as Arthur’s words settled in her heart. She had faith in him, always had. And though her mother had been right about not all nobles being like Queen Ygraine, Gwen had to trust her son would be.
She stood on tiptoe and spoke into his ear. “I will always love you, Arthur. Not just as my sovereign, but as a man.”
Arthur kissed her firmly, his tongue stroking hers for a brief moment. “Your man, Guinevere. Always.”
Gwen kissed him again with everything she had. That vow she could certainly keep, even if only in her heart.
*dorm-bu-gegain--daughter in the Wolof language