Fic: Turn and Face the Strange
Title: Turn and Face the Strange
Fandom: Merlin
Characters: Gwen, Arthur, (A/G), Merlin, Elyan, Gwaine, other knights, and OCs
Rating: R
Word Count: 3.383
Disclaimer: I don’t own Merlin. Surprise, surprise.
Spoilers: For some S4 stuff.
Summary: Although Gwen does enjoy no longer having to hide her love for Arthur, she wishes that it didn’t put her so firmly in the public eye.
A/N: This is a super, super late fic for rubber_glue that she won in a charity bidding auction. Apologies once again! She asked for something along the lines of the servants’ reaction to the kiss in 3x12. It’s… sort of that, with other stuff to make the 3,000 words I promised.
I guess you could say it’s my thoughts on what should happen between S3 & S4. It’s unintentionally similar with threemeows’ awesome fic because we apparently share the same head space. It’s a little creepy.
Title comes from “Changes” by David Bowie. (Although some argue that the lyrics are “turn and face the strain”.) Once again, couldn’t think of a title. This fic is about changes. Even though the song and fic are about different types of changes. But whatever.
llllllllll
The next few weeks for Camelot are a time of adjustment. But it is mostly welcome adjustment from what Camelot has just suffered.
The king has gone mad and is restricted to his bed. Arthur is acting as Prince Regent. Merlin’s role has become more clerical than domestic. An assortment of commoners are now knights, with more showing interest in joining now that knighthood is an option to more than those of noble blood.
And Gwen has somehow become Uther’s nurse.
She had volunteered herself the day after she returned. Gaius had been taking care of him until then, but he was needed elsewhere and couldn’t stay at the king’s bedside indefinitely. Arthur had given her a solemn look and told her it wasn’t necessary. But she insisted, knowing how it would ease Arthur’s mind and saying that it would only be until they could find someone else for the position.
Uther, however, is less keen for any other nurse than Gwen. Whenever someone attempts to take over Gwen’s duties Uther grows upset, yells for her to get away and that he wants Gwen, Where is Gwen? It’s like some twisted irony that Uther suddenly treats her like a daughter - or even perhaps a mother - with no memory of her as Morgana’s maidservant. Each time Arthur insists that his father will get used to the new nurse given enough time. However Gwen can’t help but doubt that, given his behaviour.
It’s not an easy job for Gwen, caring for the man who ordered both her father’s and her own execution - twice. Although sometimes, she feels some sense of justice that Uther may not be imprisoned in a jail cell but he is at least imprisoned within the madness of his own mind. That is until Uther wakes from a particularly terrible nightmare, screaming and crying like a frightened child. Gwen’s compassion then takes over as she tries to calm him and she wonders if anyone deserves this level of mental torture.
Once Uther is back asleep, Gwen extinguishes the last candle and leaves for the night. Instead of going straight home, she heads to the king’s study, now used by Arthur. She’s sure he will still be awake.
Arthur’s weary expression brightens as he looks up to see her. Her own expression must be similarly drained considering the way Arthur frowns.
“How is he?” he asks as he stands up and comes around the table.
“He had another nightmare.”
Arthur nods grimly before cupping her cheek. His voice becomes softer, tender. “And how are you?”
“Fine,” she whispers. She doesn’t sound it.
He sighs. “You know you don’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
He studies her for a moment more before leaning down and pressing his lips to her forehead. “Thank you, though.”
Gwen lets herself be pulled into his chest. They stay that way for a moment, Gwen’s head resting against his chest and his chin tucked into her hair.
“How was your day?” she asks.
“The usual. I still have no idea what I’m doing.”
“That’s not true,” she says. “You are doing a fine job.”
Arthurs hmms disbelievingly and strokes her back.
“You seem tired,” he says, kissing her eyelids where they’ve fluttered shut. “I’ll let you get some rest.”
“Only if you promise me the same.”
“I promise.”
Gwen leans up and kisses him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he answers with a smile, kissing her again. “Goodnight.”
lll
Arriving at work each morning is different than it once was. No one used to ever notice her; she was just a servant. She may have received a few polite greetings from other servants, but nothing more.
Now people move aside for her. Servants and other commoners bow and curtsey with murmurs of “my lady”. Even most nobles have the sense to nod their head toward her in recognition even if they do it unwillingly. The reactions vary, since she has no proper title and no set rules for how people should address her. But everyone is aware that she is now someone of importance who should be shown respect.
Although Gwen does enjoy no longer having to hide her love for Arthur, she wishes that it didn’t put her so firmly in the public eye. Perhaps she should not have displayed her affection for Arthur so openly upon her return those weeks ago. She takes the blame entirely upon herself. It was that kiss which had made their relationship public knowledge, after all.
It had not been, however, helped by the knights.
Gwaine may be the biggest culprit, calling her “Princess” and often adding a flourished bow. He does it only in jest, but it seems to have set something of an example.
Percival treats her like a lady, less in playful teasing the way that Gwaine does, but more in his respect and adoration for both Arthur and herself. She tries to tell him not to, since she is no more high born than he, but Percival acts the gentleman perhaps more than any other knight barring Lancelot.
Leon grants her significant respect, which is notable since he is one of the few remaining knights of noble blood. He is always glad to recount the story of how Gwen bravely defied Morgana and cleverly devised Leon’s escape so that she could return to Arthur and offer her aid. (He chooses to leave out the part where she made him wear a dress, but Gwen is too flattered by his storytelling to correct him.)
Elyan has his stories, too, which attest not just to Gwen’s qualities but Arthur’s affection for her and disregard for class differences. He is proud of his sister for being worthy of a prince’s love. But Gwen knows he is also keen to show that she is no casual infatuation, and that their love is honorable and true.
Then there is Lancelot, who is the model of gentlemanliness. He treated her like a lady even when they first met all those years ago. Now he prefers to keep his distance and although it stings that he feels he must do so, Gwen understands. While he is by no means cold to her, he is not as publically adamant about his affection to her as the other knights.
That is to say, the adoration for her is not limited to those who accompanied her home those weeks ago. Ever since Arthur opened the knighthood to those not of noble blood, men have been eager to join the ranks and pledge their allegiance not just to Arthur, but to the ‘peasant princess’.
One such young man, just old enough to make the age requirement, bumps into her on the way to the training field and drops the pieces of armour he’d been carrying.
“I’m so sorry, my lady,” he stammers, bowing ungracefully. “Forgive me. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s no worries,” she says as she stoops to pick up the helmet at her feet. “And there is no need to address me so.”
“But that is how the knights address you. Sir Gwaine told us -”
Gwen laughs. “I’d be careful of what Gwaine says. The man enjoys his jokes. Now what is your name?”
“Dinadan. Sir Dinaden soon, I hope.”
“Sir Dinadan, you may call me Gwen.”
“What about once the prince marries you? What do we call you then?”
Gwen pauses, feeling her face heat.
“He is going to marry you, isn’t he? That’s what everyone says,” he prattles. “Like Merlin, and I figured he knows what he’s talking about. We all want you to marry him. Because then we can say ‘look at our queen, she’s one of us you know’ and we can be proud about it.”
“Dinadan! Stop dallying and get to the training field.”
Dinadan’s eyes go wide as he spots Elyan approaching them. “Yes, sir. Goodbye, my lady.” He hurriedly bows twice at them both and rushes off.
Gwen rolls her eyes at her brother and shoves the helmet Dinadan forgot into his arms. “Do you, Gwaine, and the others enjoy frightening the recruits?”
“I frighten them?” he teases. “What about you? Dinaden’s was shaking like a leaf as he fawned over you.”
“He was not fawning.”
Elyan scoffs. “I think half the kingdom’s in love with you, Gwen, some without ever laying eyes on you. The recruits especially. They’re all eager to prove their worth and earn you favor.”
“You exaggerate.”
“I wish. You haven’t overheard them waxing poetic over your hair or your eyes or your… voice.”
“My voice?”
Elyan scrunches his nose. “Trust me, I wish it had been your voice.”
He slides away before she can thump his arm or demand to know what they’d said.
“I’m doing you a favor, sis. You don’t want to know.”
lll
Gwen would not usually say she is eager to marry Arthur. She knows it is not the time for it, and neither does she particularly look forward to being in the public eye - more so than she is already.
But there are moments, like when she is awake in bed with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company or when Arthur looks at her in a certain way where she knows not what he is thinking but can certainly imagine. The times when she wishes most to be Arthur’s wife are certainly when his body is close to hers, pressed so tightly together it’s obscene.
They don’t seem to trust themselves in his bed chamber - not to mention it would probably be best that she isn’t seen entering or exiting it. Instead they take refuge in his study.
She’s trapped between him and the door. His hands grasp her hips, his fingers tightening every so often as if he’s making sure that’s where they stay whenever he’s tempted to move them elsewhere. Her own fingers are splayed in his hair at the base of his neck as they kiss. He moves his mouth down to her throat, sucking lightly before he grazes his teeth just so.
Gwen gasps and instinctually ruts her hips against him to meet something hard. Arthur groans, stopping what he’s doing to rest his temple by her ear.
“Gwen,” he rasps. Arthur’s suddenly panting harder than he was before. Both of them are still but she feels like their bodies are strumming. She knows they can’t go further, too much further anyway, but neither do they want to stop.
She turns her head to kiss his cheek, coaxing him to turn his own head and meet her lips. He kisses her more slowly, carefully. He pauses, about to say something, but she cuts him off by kissing him once more. She slides against him and Arthur groans a second time. His hands shift down, fingers finding purchase as they move over the top of her bum.
Gwen squeaks - almost giggles - as she follows the subtle pull of his hands toward his body. When her hips press even tighter against him she hears the intake of both of their breath. Gwen bites her lip, shifting until she finds the place, just at the junction of her legs, that feels best against his erection. She may even whimper.
A loud rapping on the door reverberates through her, making them jump apart. Arthur strides to his desk and sits behind it in alarming speed.
“Enter.”
Gwaine comes in, pausing at the sight of them. Arthur’s face is still flushed and Gwen does everything she can to wipe the guilt off her face.
“Am I interrupting anything?” Gwaine asks with a glimmer of a knowing smirk. “I can come back later.”
“No,” Gwen answers, cursing the way her breath still stutters in her chest. “No, I was just leaving.”
She swiftly walks down the hall past a few guards until she finds a corner for her to catch her breath. She leans her forehead against the cool stone of the wall, trying to calm her beating heart instead of replaying the past few moments with Arthur in her head.
“Sorry about that,” she hears Gwaine say from behind her. Whatever business he had with Arthur must have been brief. “You two should come up with some sort of code so people know not to disturb you, like hanging a cape on the door.”
“We weren’t doing anything.”
Gwaine laughs. “Oh, you were doing something.”
Gwen angles her head just enough to give him a stern look.
“Maybe it’s about time Arthur married you. Then you can move on from the somethings to the anythings.”
“Gwaine!” she hisses, attempting to keep the corners of her mouth from turning up.
“I’m just looking out for the sanity of my prince regent and future princess,” he says with a wink before he leaves.
Gwen sighs and wonders if there might be a shred of reasonableness in what Gwaine said.
lll
“Frankly, I didn’t think Gwen was the type of girl to go around seducing princes. But I guess if all the riches of Camelot and a title are at stake, anybody’s capable….”
“Like you?” a voice teases.
“Oh, hush. If I’d known it was so easy I just might have tried myself.”
“Prince Arthur isn’t like that,” a third voice says.
“Like what?” the first voice continues. “He’s a man isn’t he?”
“And Gwen isn’t the type either.”
“Are you really that naïve, Beth? She used what she had to get what she wanted - not that I’d even say she’s that pretty. But maybe her skills in the Prince’s bed are more impressive.”
“Sarah! You shouldn’t talk like that!”
“Because she’s going to be queen, you mean?”
“Because she’s one of us! And because she’s a good person. She never judged you for all the beds you’ve warmed.”
There’s silence for a moment before the doors open, making Gwen jump back.
Beth gasps. “My lady. What are you doing here?”
“I was…” she takes a breath and tries to keep the tears stinging in her eyes from falling, “going to fetch the king’s breakfast.”
“Oh, Gwen,” Beth whispers. “You didn’t …”
When she looks away and attempts to casually wipe her eyes, she knows she can’t hide it. Gwen feels so stupid for crying over this.
Beth hesitates before finally wrapping her arms around Gwen. Gwen sinks into the embrace, glad Beth is acting the way she would have when they were both just servants.
“Don’t listen to what Sarah thinks; she’s just jealous. Most of us are happy for you.”
“Thank you, Beth.”
When Gwen pulls away, Beth stops her. “Let me get the king’s breakfast. I’ll bring it up for you.”
She thinks about objecting, but decides against it. She’s never particularly gotten on with Sarah and doesn’t feel like think she can face her at the moment without acting hurt or angry. “Yes, thank you.”
“Should I speak to the steward about Sarah?”
“No, there’s no need. If everyone was reprimanded for what was said in the kitchens, the castle wouldn’t have any servants.”
Beth smiles mischievously. “I remember a time when you did your share of kitchen talk, criticizing the prince’s behaviour.”
“That I did,” she laughs.
Beth squeezes her hand reassuringly one more time. “He’s come a long way to deserve marrying you.”
lll
“I’m so sorry about your father.”
Gwen stills mid-stitch and looks up from her sewing. Uther isn’t usually capable of conversation, let alone a rational one.
“It’s all my fault,” he continues. Uther doesn’t address her, but his canopy. “If it hadn’t been for me, you would still have him. I stole him away from you. I know you blame me and you have every right. But do you think you can find it in your heart to forgive me? ”
She doesn’t know what to say. She can’t forgive him, but what else could she possibly say to a madman? She could lie. She takes a breath, trying to say it but the words taste bitter on her tongue.
“Morgana?”
Of course, she thinks as her chest deflates. No, he doesn’t mean Tom. Uther probably doesn’t even remember him, let alone regret it. He’s speaking of Gorlois, who’d he sent into battle those many years ago. Gwen bites her cheek to contain her anger.
He turns his head and looks at her. “Where did Morgana go?”
“She went for a ride, my lord,” she answers flatly, used to making excuses for where Morgana is.
Unable to distract herself with it, Gwen sets down her sewing and squeezes her eyes shut.
“What’s wrong, Gwen?”
She opens her eyes to see Uther looking at her with that tender expression once reserved for his ward. It unnerves Gwen when he looks at her like that.
“Is it that handsome blond man? I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He hasn’t been ungentlemanly toward you, I hope?”
“You mean, Arthur?” she asks uneasily.
He laughs. “My son hasn’t yet learned to crawl. I mean the tall one with blue eyes who comes to visit you.”
Gwen sighs in relief. “It is nothing he has done, my lord.”
“Does he intend on marrying you?”
The question catches her off guard. Why does everyone ask that of her? The knights, the servants, even a madman who’d once sentenced Gwen to death for Arthur’s intention of being with her.
Someone clears his throat behind her, saving Gwen from answering. She turns to see Merlin, a grin teasing at his mouth the way it always does on the subject of her relationship with Arthur.
“Balinor!” Uther shouts. “You’ve come for me, haven’t you? Vengeance for your brethren? For your dragons?”
Merlin’s eyes widen at Uther’s shouts. “I’ll be outside,” he mutters and hurries out.
Once Gwen can manage to calm Uther down, she goes into the hallway to find Merlin waiting there. He looks shaken.
“Did he say anything else?” Merlin asks.
“Not really. Just ravings.”
He nods curtly. “Good.”
“Uther’s outbursts can be… jarring. But you get used to them.”
“Yeah,” he mumbles.
She places her hand on his arm. “Are you alright?”
“Of course.”
Gwen studies him a moment longer, getting that familiar feeling that Merlin isn’t saying everything he’s thinking.
“It can’t be easy for you,” he says.
Gwen sighs. “The few occasions I begin to feel sorry for him, I’m reminded not much later why I shouldn’t be.”
“You know Arthur wouldn’t blame you -”
“I know.”
Merlin takes a deep breath and nods. “Right. Speaking of Arthur he wants to see you.”
“What for?”
“I dunno. To propose to you, maybe,” he says with a cheeky smile.
Gwen gives him a look.
“What? Please tell me you two have at least talked about it.”
“We haven’t.”
“That idiot.”
She rolls her eyes and pokes him in the arm.
“Fine, he wants to have to have dinner with you.”
Gwen smiles and nods. “Tell him that would be lovely.”
lll
“I went to the training fields today,” Arthur says. It’s been weeks since he’s last gone.
“How was that?”
“Good. For what the recruits lack in experience they make up in eagerness. It’s the other knights that are the problem,” he says with laughter in his voice.
“Problem?”
“The drawback of treating them as your equals is they think they can just pry into your personal life. They’re almost as bad as Merlin. They keep asking,” Arthur chuckles and takes a hold of her hand, “when I’m going to marry you.”
Gwen bites her lip. “I’ve been getting the same question. I never know what to say.”
“I suppose we should actually talk about it. Or else Merlin might strangle me in my sleep.”
“I suppose we should.”
“I am going to marry you, Guinevere. I promise,” he says. “As long as you want to, I want nothing else. I would marry you now if I could. But it’s just…”
“Not the right time,” she finishes for him.
“You understand?”
“Of course I understand. Camelot comes first.”
He nods. “We should let things settle down first. And once they do, we’ll announce our engagement.” Arthur smooths a loose tendril over her ear with his other hand. “You will marry me, won’t you?”
“Yes,” Gwen answers, smiling.
Arthur beams and leans forward to kiss her. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”
Fandom: Merlin
Characters: Gwen, Arthur, (A/G), Merlin, Elyan, Gwaine, other knights, and OCs
Rating: R
Word Count: 3.383
Disclaimer: I don’t own Merlin. Surprise, surprise.
Spoilers: For some S4 stuff.
Summary: Although Gwen does enjoy no longer having to hide her love for Arthur, she wishes that it didn’t put her so firmly in the public eye.
A/N: This is a super, super late fic for rubber_glue that she won in a charity bidding auction. Apologies once again! She asked for something along the lines of the servants’ reaction to the kiss in 3x12. It’s… sort of that, with other stuff to make the 3,000 words I promised.
I guess you could say it’s my thoughts on what should happen between S3 & S4. It’s unintentionally similar with threemeows’ awesome fic because we apparently share the same head space. It’s a little creepy.
Title comes from “Changes” by David Bowie. (Although some argue that the lyrics are “turn and face the strain”.) Once again, couldn’t think of a title. This fic is about changes. Even though the song and fic are about different types of changes. But whatever.
llllllllll
The next few weeks for Camelot are a time of adjustment. But it is mostly welcome adjustment from what Camelot has just suffered.
The king has gone mad and is restricted to his bed. Arthur is acting as Prince Regent. Merlin’s role has become more clerical than domestic. An assortment of commoners are now knights, with more showing interest in joining now that knighthood is an option to more than those of noble blood.
And Gwen has somehow become Uther’s nurse.
She had volunteered herself the day after she returned. Gaius had been taking care of him until then, but he was needed elsewhere and couldn’t stay at the king’s bedside indefinitely. Arthur had given her a solemn look and told her it wasn’t necessary. But she insisted, knowing how it would ease Arthur’s mind and saying that it would only be until they could find someone else for the position.
Uther, however, is less keen for any other nurse than Gwen. Whenever someone attempts to take over Gwen’s duties Uther grows upset, yells for her to get away and that he wants Gwen, Where is Gwen? It’s like some twisted irony that Uther suddenly treats her like a daughter - or even perhaps a mother - with no memory of her as Morgana’s maidservant. Each time Arthur insists that his father will get used to the new nurse given enough time. However Gwen can’t help but doubt that, given his behaviour.
It’s not an easy job for Gwen, caring for the man who ordered both her father’s and her own execution - twice. Although sometimes, she feels some sense of justice that Uther may not be imprisoned in a jail cell but he is at least imprisoned within the madness of his own mind. That is until Uther wakes from a particularly terrible nightmare, screaming and crying like a frightened child. Gwen’s compassion then takes over as she tries to calm him and she wonders if anyone deserves this level of mental torture.
Once Uther is back asleep, Gwen extinguishes the last candle and leaves for the night. Instead of going straight home, she heads to the king’s study, now used by Arthur. She’s sure he will still be awake.
Arthur’s weary expression brightens as he looks up to see her. Her own expression must be similarly drained considering the way Arthur frowns.
“How is he?” he asks as he stands up and comes around the table.
“He had another nightmare.”
Arthur nods grimly before cupping her cheek. His voice becomes softer, tender. “And how are you?”
“Fine,” she whispers. She doesn’t sound it.
He sighs. “You know you don’t have to do this.”
“I know.”
He studies her for a moment more before leaning down and pressing his lips to her forehead. “Thank you, though.”
Gwen lets herself be pulled into his chest. They stay that way for a moment, Gwen’s head resting against his chest and his chin tucked into her hair.
“How was your day?” she asks.
“The usual. I still have no idea what I’m doing.”
“That’s not true,” she says. “You are doing a fine job.”
Arthurs hmms disbelievingly and strokes her back.
“You seem tired,” he says, kissing her eyelids where they’ve fluttered shut. “I’ll let you get some rest.”
“Only if you promise me the same.”
“I promise.”
Gwen leans up and kisses him. “I love you.”
“I love you, too,” he answers with a smile, kissing her again. “Goodnight.”
lll
Arriving at work each morning is different than it once was. No one used to ever notice her; she was just a servant. She may have received a few polite greetings from other servants, but nothing more.
Now people move aside for her. Servants and other commoners bow and curtsey with murmurs of “my lady”. Even most nobles have the sense to nod their head toward her in recognition even if they do it unwillingly. The reactions vary, since she has no proper title and no set rules for how people should address her. But everyone is aware that she is now someone of importance who should be shown respect.
Although Gwen does enjoy no longer having to hide her love for Arthur, she wishes that it didn’t put her so firmly in the public eye. Perhaps she should not have displayed her affection for Arthur so openly upon her return those weeks ago. She takes the blame entirely upon herself. It was that kiss which had made their relationship public knowledge, after all.
It had not been, however, helped by the knights.
Gwaine may be the biggest culprit, calling her “Princess” and often adding a flourished bow. He does it only in jest, but it seems to have set something of an example.
Percival treats her like a lady, less in playful teasing the way that Gwaine does, but more in his respect and adoration for both Arthur and herself. She tries to tell him not to, since she is no more high born than he, but Percival acts the gentleman perhaps more than any other knight barring Lancelot.
Leon grants her significant respect, which is notable since he is one of the few remaining knights of noble blood. He is always glad to recount the story of how Gwen bravely defied Morgana and cleverly devised Leon’s escape so that she could return to Arthur and offer her aid. (He chooses to leave out the part where she made him wear a dress, but Gwen is too flattered by his storytelling to correct him.)
Elyan has his stories, too, which attest not just to Gwen’s qualities but Arthur’s affection for her and disregard for class differences. He is proud of his sister for being worthy of a prince’s love. But Gwen knows he is also keen to show that she is no casual infatuation, and that their love is honorable and true.
Then there is Lancelot, who is the model of gentlemanliness. He treated her like a lady even when they first met all those years ago. Now he prefers to keep his distance and although it stings that he feels he must do so, Gwen understands. While he is by no means cold to her, he is not as publically adamant about his affection to her as the other knights.
That is to say, the adoration for her is not limited to those who accompanied her home those weeks ago. Ever since Arthur opened the knighthood to those not of noble blood, men have been eager to join the ranks and pledge their allegiance not just to Arthur, but to the ‘peasant princess’.
One such young man, just old enough to make the age requirement, bumps into her on the way to the training field and drops the pieces of armour he’d been carrying.
“I’m so sorry, my lady,” he stammers, bowing ungracefully. “Forgive me. I’m so sorry.”
“It’s no worries,” she says as she stoops to pick up the helmet at her feet. “And there is no need to address me so.”
“But that is how the knights address you. Sir Gwaine told us -”
Gwen laughs. “I’d be careful of what Gwaine says. The man enjoys his jokes. Now what is your name?”
“Dinadan. Sir Dinaden soon, I hope.”
“Sir Dinadan, you may call me Gwen.”
“What about once the prince marries you? What do we call you then?”
Gwen pauses, feeling her face heat.
“He is going to marry you, isn’t he? That’s what everyone says,” he prattles. “Like Merlin, and I figured he knows what he’s talking about. We all want you to marry him. Because then we can say ‘look at our queen, she’s one of us you know’ and we can be proud about it.”
“Dinadan! Stop dallying and get to the training field.”
Dinadan’s eyes go wide as he spots Elyan approaching them. “Yes, sir. Goodbye, my lady.” He hurriedly bows twice at them both and rushes off.
Gwen rolls her eyes at her brother and shoves the helmet Dinadan forgot into his arms. “Do you, Gwaine, and the others enjoy frightening the recruits?”
“I frighten them?” he teases. “What about you? Dinaden’s was shaking like a leaf as he fawned over you.”
“He was not fawning.”
Elyan scoffs. “I think half the kingdom’s in love with you, Gwen, some without ever laying eyes on you. The recruits especially. They’re all eager to prove their worth and earn you favor.”
“You exaggerate.”
“I wish. You haven’t overheard them waxing poetic over your hair or your eyes or your… voice.”
“My voice?”
Elyan scrunches his nose. “Trust me, I wish it had been your voice.”
He slides away before she can thump his arm or demand to know what they’d said.
“I’m doing you a favor, sis. You don’t want to know.”
lll
Gwen would not usually say she is eager to marry Arthur. She knows it is not the time for it, and neither does she particularly look forward to being in the public eye - more so than she is already.
But there are moments, like when she is awake in bed with nothing but her thoughts to keep her company or when Arthur looks at her in a certain way where she knows not what he is thinking but can certainly imagine. The times when she wishes most to be Arthur’s wife are certainly when his body is close to hers, pressed so tightly together it’s obscene.
They don’t seem to trust themselves in his bed chamber - not to mention it would probably be best that she isn’t seen entering or exiting it. Instead they take refuge in his study.
She’s trapped between him and the door. His hands grasp her hips, his fingers tightening every so often as if he’s making sure that’s where they stay whenever he’s tempted to move them elsewhere. Her own fingers are splayed in his hair at the base of his neck as they kiss. He moves his mouth down to her throat, sucking lightly before he grazes his teeth just so.
Gwen gasps and instinctually ruts her hips against him to meet something hard. Arthur groans, stopping what he’s doing to rest his temple by her ear.
“Gwen,” he rasps. Arthur’s suddenly panting harder than he was before. Both of them are still but she feels like their bodies are strumming. She knows they can’t go further, too much further anyway, but neither do they want to stop.
She turns her head to kiss his cheek, coaxing him to turn his own head and meet her lips. He kisses her more slowly, carefully. He pauses, about to say something, but she cuts him off by kissing him once more. She slides against him and Arthur groans a second time. His hands shift down, fingers finding purchase as they move over the top of her bum.
Gwen squeaks - almost giggles - as she follows the subtle pull of his hands toward his body. When her hips press even tighter against him she hears the intake of both of their breath. Gwen bites her lip, shifting until she finds the place, just at the junction of her legs, that feels best against his erection. She may even whimper.
A loud rapping on the door reverberates through her, making them jump apart. Arthur strides to his desk and sits behind it in alarming speed.
“Enter.”
Gwaine comes in, pausing at the sight of them. Arthur’s face is still flushed and Gwen does everything she can to wipe the guilt off her face.
“Am I interrupting anything?” Gwaine asks with a glimmer of a knowing smirk. “I can come back later.”
“No,” Gwen answers, cursing the way her breath still stutters in her chest. “No, I was just leaving.”
She swiftly walks down the hall past a few guards until she finds a corner for her to catch her breath. She leans her forehead against the cool stone of the wall, trying to calm her beating heart instead of replaying the past few moments with Arthur in her head.
“Sorry about that,” she hears Gwaine say from behind her. Whatever business he had with Arthur must have been brief. “You two should come up with some sort of code so people know not to disturb you, like hanging a cape on the door.”
“We weren’t doing anything.”
Gwaine laughs. “Oh, you were doing something.”
Gwen angles her head just enough to give him a stern look.
“Maybe it’s about time Arthur married you. Then you can move on from the somethings to the anythings.”
“Gwaine!” she hisses, attempting to keep the corners of her mouth from turning up.
“I’m just looking out for the sanity of my prince regent and future princess,” he says with a wink before he leaves.
Gwen sighs and wonders if there might be a shred of reasonableness in what Gwaine said.
lll
“Frankly, I didn’t think Gwen was the type of girl to go around seducing princes. But I guess if all the riches of Camelot and a title are at stake, anybody’s capable….”
“Like you?” a voice teases.
“Oh, hush. If I’d known it was so easy I just might have tried myself.”
“Prince Arthur isn’t like that,” a third voice says.
“Like what?” the first voice continues. “He’s a man isn’t he?”
“And Gwen isn’t the type either.”
“Are you really that naïve, Beth? She used what she had to get what she wanted - not that I’d even say she’s that pretty. But maybe her skills in the Prince’s bed are more impressive.”
“Sarah! You shouldn’t talk like that!”
“Because she’s going to be queen, you mean?”
“Because she’s one of us! And because she’s a good person. She never judged you for all the beds you’ve warmed.”
There’s silence for a moment before the doors open, making Gwen jump back.
Beth gasps. “My lady. What are you doing here?”
“I was…” she takes a breath and tries to keep the tears stinging in her eyes from falling, “going to fetch the king’s breakfast.”
“Oh, Gwen,” Beth whispers. “You didn’t …”
When she looks away and attempts to casually wipe her eyes, she knows she can’t hide it. Gwen feels so stupid for crying over this.
Beth hesitates before finally wrapping her arms around Gwen. Gwen sinks into the embrace, glad Beth is acting the way she would have when they were both just servants.
“Don’t listen to what Sarah thinks; she’s just jealous. Most of us are happy for you.”
“Thank you, Beth.”
When Gwen pulls away, Beth stops her. “Let me get the king’s breakfast. I’ll bring it up for you.”
She thinks about objecting, but decides against it. She’s never particularly gotten on with Sarah and doesn’t feel like think she can face her at the moment without acting hurt or angry. “Yes, thank you.”
“Should I speak to the steward about Sarah?”
“No, there’s no need. If everyone was reprimanded for what was said in the kitchens, the castle wouldn’t have any servants.”
Beth smiles mischievously. “I remember a time when you did your share of kitchen talk, criticizing the prince’s behaviour.”
“That I did,” she laughs.
Beth squeezes her hand reassuringly one more time. “He’s come a long way to deserve marrying you.”
lll
“I’m so sorry about your father.”
Gwen stills mid-stitch and looks up from her sewing. Uther isn’t usually capable of conversation, let alone a rational one.
“It’s all my fault,” he continues. Uther doesn’t address her, but his canopy. “If it hadn’t been for me, you would still have him. I stole him away from you. I know you blame me and you have every right. But do you think you can find it in your heart to forgive me? ”
She doesn’t know what to say. She can’t forgive him, but what else could she possibly say to a madman? She could lie. She takes a breath, trying to say it but the words taste bitter on her tongue.
“Morgana?”
Of course, she thinks as her chest deflates. No, he doesn’t mean Tom. Uther probably doesn’t even remember him, let alone regret it. He’s speaking of Gorlois, who’d he sent into battle those many years ago. Gwen bites her cheek to contain her anger.
He turns his head and looks at her. “Where did Morgana go?”
“She went for a ride, my lord,” she answers flatly, used to making excuses for where Morgana is.
Unable to distract herself with it, Gwen sets down her sewing and squeezes her eyes shut.
“What’s wrong, Gwen?”
She opens her eyes to see Uther looking at her with that tender expression once reserved for his ward. It unnerves Gwen when he looks at her like that.
“Is it that handsome blond man? I’ve seen the way he looks at you. He hasn’t been ungentlemanly toward you, I hope?”
“You mean, Arthur?” she asks uneasily.
He laughs. “My son hasn’t yet learned to crawl. I mean the tall one with blue eyes who comes to visit you.”
Gwen sighs in relief. “It is nothing he has done, my lord.”
“Does he intend on marrying you?”
The question catches her off guard. Why does everyone ask that of her? The knights, the servants, even a madman who’d once sentenced Gwen to death for Arthur’s intention of being with her.
Someone clears his throat behind her, saving Gwen from answering. She turns to see Merlin, a grin teasing at his mouth the way it always does on the subject of her relationship with Arthur.
“Balinor!” Uther shouts. “You’ve come for me, haven’t you? Vengeance for your brethren? For your dragons?”
Merlin’s eyes widen at Uther’s shouts. “I’ll be outside,” he mutters and hurries out.
Once Gwen can manage to calm Uther down, she goes into the hallway to find Merlin waiting there. He looks shaken.
“Did he say anything else?” Merlin asks.
“Not really. Just ravings.”
He nods curtly. “Good.”
“Uther’s outbursts can be… jarring. But you get used to them.”
“Yeah,” he mumbles.
She places her hand on his arm. “Are you alright?”
“Of course.”
Gwen studies him a moment longer, getting that familiar feeling that Merlin isn’t saying everything he’s thinking.
“It can’t be easy for you,” he says.
Gwen sighs. “The few occasions I begin to feel sorry for him, I’m reminded not much later why I shouldn’t be.”
“You know Arthur wouldn’t blame you -”
“I know.”
Merlin takes a deep breath and nods. “Right. Speaking of Arthur he wants to see you.”
“What for?”
“I dunno. To propose to you, maybe,” he says with a cheeky smile.
Gwen gives him a look.
“What? Please tell me you two have at least talked about it.”
“We haven’t.”
“That idiot.”
She rolls her eyes and pokes him in the arm.
“Fine, he wants to have to have dinner with you.”
Gwen smiles and nods. “Tell him that would be lovely.”
lll
“I went to the training fields today,” Arthur says. It’s been weeks since he’s last gone.
“How was that?”
“Good. For what the recruits lack in experience they make up in eagerness. It’s the other knights that are the problem,” he says with laughter in his voice.
“Problem?”
“The drawback of treating them as your equals is they think they can just pry into your personal life. They’re almost as bad as Merlin. They keep asking,” Arthur chuckles and takes a hold of her hand, “when I’m going to marry you.”
Gwen bites her lip. “I’ve been getting the same question. I never know what to say.”
“I suppose we should actually talk about it. Or else Merlin might strangle me in my sleep.”
“I suppose we should.”
“I am going to marry you, Guinevere. I promise,” he says. “As long as you want to, I want nothing else. I would marry you now if I could. But it’s just…”
“Not the right time,” she finishes for him.
“You understand?”
“Of course I understand. Camelot comes first.”
He nods. “We should let things settle down first. And once they do, we’ll announce our engagement.” Arthur smooths a loose tendril over her ear with his other hand. “You will marry me, won’t you?”
“Yes,” Gwen answers, smiling.
Arthur beams and leans forward to kiss her. “I love you.”
“I love you, too.”