Under A Moonlit Sky; Merlin
Title: Under a Moonlit Sky
Author: mydoctortennant
Pairing/s: Arthur/Gwen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Merlin, unfortunately, doesn’t belong to me… maybe one day!
Dedication: saurina for her prompt ‘nocturnal’.
Summary: Sometimes the Crowned Prince shouldn’t drink so much.
Notes: This comes to you un-beta'd so if there are spelling mistakes or whatnot they are all my own, and if you want to point things out to me, go ahead XD
my merlin prompt table
The moon was full in the dark sky, the stars tinkling, shadows cast across the city. The party was still in full swing but with most of the guests intoxicated beyond believe. The King took celebrating the anniversary of magic being obliterated from the kingdom. Few people saw it as a time of great victory, others, more so, saw it as a time to appease the king.
Gwen was one of those people.
Getting on the wrong side of King would place her on the wrong side of his son. Even if it didn’t happen that Arthur took his side over hers, it would only put Uther further away from accepting any sort of relationship between the servant and the prince.
Gwen slumped into her bed, pulling the covers up to her chest and cuddling into her singular pillow. She had been working non-stop all day. Starting with the preparations for the day’s feast, ending with serving countless guests until they couldn’t handle any more. She could do with a foot massage, and a week’s worth of sleep.
She was just about to drift off to sleep when she could hear somebody singing outside of her window. Whoever it was, she was going to send them on their way; they didn’t belong there.
“Round a round a ring a ring, of poses,” Gwen’s eyebrow arched, her blanket about her shoulders, she could have sworn she recognised the voice, “roses,” her brow knitted when she opened the door to only find the one person she hadn’t been expecting, she wouldn’t have believed her suspicions if she hadn’t have seen him, “Guinevere!”
The Prince giggled.
He actually giggled.
“My lord?” She called out leaving her front door open to investigate the man outside her window.
“Guinevere! Fancy seeing you here!” he flailed his arms in the air, a flask in his hand, Gwen could only assume it wasn’t full of water. An intoxicated grin was coveted on his face, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.
“I do live here, my lord,” she answered, eyeing the water pouch he carried. She watched him take a swig from it, smacking his lips.
“No, no, no, Guinevere, I live here. You are a princess; you must live in the castle.”
“You are drunk, my lord,” she said, thankful for the darkness in which they were at the current time, rendering the Prince unable to see the tinge of the blush on her cheeks.
“No, no, no, you are drunk. You are in my house, wearing my blanket!”
“My lord-“
“My lady, why do you refer to me in such a way?”
“Because my lord, you are the crowned prince of Camelot. You should not be here.”
“But I want to be here!” he giggled again taking another long swig of the liquid in the flask. Gwen clasped her hand around the neck of it, she tried to take it from Arthur but he wasn’t letting go of it willingly, “Tha’s mine,” he said pulling back towards him in a mini game of tug of war.
“I’m sure your father has taught you to share,” she tugged and the flask came free of his grasp. She sniffed the liquid and sure enough she found it to be mead, she took a quick swig for courage, then proceeded to empty the content over the floor, “You should go home.”
“But I am home.”
“We have covered this, my lord, this is my home. You belong in the castle,” an unimpressed breath escaped his lips, “You will not like it here, my lord, none of your home comforts.”
“But there is you,” he smiled, his grin lop-sided and eyes half closing. He was drunk, completely. Gwen’s unimpressed side tugged lips went unnoticed by him, “I would walk a thousand miles and more for you. I will fight armies,” he drunkenly stumbled through his words, “I would slay a thousand creatures for you.”
“You do not need to do that, sire.”
“Sire, sire, sire! I am your friend, am I not, Guinevere?”
“And I am yours, my lord, yet you call me Guinevere.”
“I like it. It is a royal name, a name fit for a queen,” annoyed now by his drunken declarations Gwen sighed, clicking her tongue against the roof of her closed mouth, “You will be Queen!”
“We’ve been over this before, Arthur,” she uttered, trying not to snap, “I can not. Now we must get you home before you are missed.”
“But then you will miss me, and I can not be having that,” Gwen scoffed at him, helping him up and ushering him into her one roomed home. She sat him down on her bed, leaning him against the wall. She wouldn’t get him back to the castle like this; she needed to get him sober before she could assist him back to the castle on her own, “See! I knew you couldn’t let me go!” he said, laughing to himself as she busied herself filling a goblet with water from the bucket she kept on the side.
“You, sire, are past drunk. And I can not take you back to the castle like this.”
“Then I shall remain like this and stay here!”
“You can not do that, my lord.”
“I’m the Crowned Prince, I can do as I please and you shall obey my orders.”
“No, my lord, I shall not.”
“Then I shall have you flanked in the stocks. Maybe I would put Merlin in there with you, just for extra fun. And the towns shall throw fruit at you,” he looked her up and down not accepting the goblet that was thrust in front of him, “and you shall be covered in it, and you shall have to strip yourself down and wash-“
“I think I should stop you right there, my lord,” Gwen interrupted before she was tempted to throw the content of the cup over him instead of allowing him to drink it.
“Quite the contrary, my lady, I am only just beginning.
Author: mydoctortennant
Pairing/s: Arthur/Gwen
Rating: PG
Disclaimer: Merlin, unfortunately, doesn’t belong to me… maybe one day!
Dedication: saurina for her prompt ‘nocturnal’.
Summary: Sometimes the Crowned Prince shouldn’t drink so much.
Notes: This comes to you un-beta'd so if there are spelling mistakes or whatnot they are all my own, and if you want to point things out to me, go ahead XD
my merlin prompt table
The moon was full in the dark sky, the stars tinkling, shadows cast across the city. The party was still in full swing but with most of the guests intoxicated beyond believe. The King took celebrating the anniversary of magic being obliterated from the kingdom. Few people saw it as a time of great victory, others, more so, saw it as a time to appease the king.
Gwen was one of those people.
Getting on the wrong side of King would place her on the wrong side of his son. Even if it didn’t happen that Arthur took his side over hers, it would only put Uther further away from accepting any sort of relationship between the servant and the prince.
Gwen slumped into her bed, pulling the covers up to her chest and cuddling into her singular pillow. She had been working non-stop all day. Starting with the preparations for the day’s feast, ending with serving countless guests until they couldn’t handle any more. She could do with a foot massage, and a week’s worth of sleep.
She was just about to drift off to sleep when she could hear somebody singing outside of her window. Whoever it was, she was going to send them on their way; they didn’t belong there.
“Round a round a ring a ring, of poses,” Gwen’s eyebrow arched, her blanket about her shoulders, she could have sworn she recognised the voice, “roses,” her brow knitted when she opened the door to only find the one person she hadn’t been expecting, she wouldn’t have believed her suspicions if she hadn’t have seen him, “Guinevere!”
The Prince giggled.
He actually giggled.
“My lord?” She called out leaving her front door open to investigate the man outside her window.
“Guinevere! Fancy seeing you here!” he flailed his arms in the air, a flask in his hand, Gwen could only assume it wasn’t full of water. An intoxicated grin was coveted on his face, his eyes glinting in the moonlight.
“I do live here, my lord,” she answered, eyeing the water pouch he carried. She watched him take a swig from it, smacking his lips.
“No, no, no, Guinevere, I live here. You are a princess; you must live in the castle.”
“You are drunk, my lord,” she said, thankful for the darkness in which they were at the current time, rendering the Prince unable to see the tinge of the blush on her cheeks.
“No, no, no, you are drunk. You are in my house, wearing my blanket!”
“My lord-“
“My lady, why do you refer to me in such a way?”
“Because my lord, you are the crowned prince of Camelot. You should not be here.”
“But I want to be here!” he giggled again taking another long swig of the liquid in the flask. Gwen clasped her hand around the neck of it, she tried to take it from Arthur but he wasn’t letting go of it willingly, “Tha’s mine,” he said pulling back towards him in a mini game of tug of war.
“I’m sure your father has taught you to share,” she tugged and the flask came free of his grasp. She sniffed the liquid and sure enough she found it to be mead, she took a quick swig for courage, then proceeded to empty the content over the floor, “You should go home.”
“But I am home.”
“We have covered this, my lord, this is my home. You belong in the castle,” an unimpressed breath escaped his lips, “You will not like it here, my lord, none of your home comforts.”
“But there is you,” he smiled, his grin lop-sided and eyes half closing. He was drunk, completely. Gwen’s unimpressed side tugged lips went unnoticed by him, “I would walk a thousand miles and more for you. I will fight armies,” he drunkenly stumbled through his words, “I would slay a thousand creatures for you.”
“You do not need to do that, sire.”
“Sire, sire, sire! I am your friend, am I not, Guinevere?”
“And I am yours, my lord, yet you call me Guinevere.”
“I like it. It is a royal name, a name fit for a queen,” annoyed now by his drunken declarations Gwen sighed, clicking her tongue against the roof of her closed mouth, “You will be Queen!”
“We’ve been over this before, Arthur,” she uttered, trying not to snap, “I can not. Now we must get you home before you are missed.”
“But then you will miss me, and I can not be having that,” Gwen scoffed at him, helping him up and ushering him into her one roomed home. She sat him down on her bed, leaning him against the wall. She wouldn’t get him back to the castle like this; she needed to get him sober before she could assist him back to the castle on her own, “See! I knew you couldn’t let me go!” he said, laughing to himself as she busied herself filling a goblet with water from the bucket she kept on the side.
“You, sire, are past drunk. And I can not take you back to the castle like this.”
“Then I shall remain like this and stay here!”
“You can not do that, my lord.”
“I’m the Crowned Prince, I can do as I please and you shall obey my orders.”
“No, my lord, I shall not.”
“Then I shall have you flanked in the stocks. Maybe I would put Merlin in there with you, just for extra fun. And the towns shall throw fruit at you,” he looked her up and down not accepting the goblet that was thrust in front of him, “and you shall be covered in it, and you shall have to strip yourself down and wash-“
“I think I should stop you right there, my lord,” Gwen interrupted before she was tempted to throw the content of the cup over him instead of allowing him to drink it.
“Quite the contrary, my lady, I am only just beginning.