100 Fantasies Challenge: #102 1stFic:Tranquillity For A Warrior’s Heart
Title: Tranquillity For A Warrior’s Heart
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen
Rating/Warnings: PG-13
Spoilers: There’s a mention of episode 10 but other than that it’s pretty general.
Disclaimer: I don’t own anything although I wish to god I owned Arthur, wouldn’t that be fun ;-)
Summary: Arthur’s thoughts as he lies with Gwen in the early hours of the morning.
Word Count: 2,070
Author’s notes: This was written for the 100 fantasies challenge hosted by camelot_love The prompt was: Early Morning. Comments would be VERY loved and appreciated, ENJOY!! :D :D :D
The air was cooled; a fresh breeze blew across the silent kingdom of Camelot. Not a sound was being made by its people; all was still in the realm. The elements ruled at this time of day, Uther was hurled from his throne though he never knew it. Wind, water, fire and earth claimed back the world that was stolen from them. The magic was alive in these early hours; it sprinkled its dust over the earth healing the wounds that had been inflicted on it. Birds flew in the crisp air of morning sky, waiting eagerly for the sun to rise, to feel the heat on their wings as they flew free up high in the heavens above. Children dreamed peaceful imaginings in their beds, covers pulled and wrapped tightly around their tender bodies to keep the chill out. They were lost in their imagination, of the future that lay stretched out before them.
In an ordinary house, in a simple room on a bed that was simplistic and un-grand, somewhere amongst the homes of the commoners of the kingdom, lay the prince of Camelot, his creamy coloured body pressed firmly against the dark skin of his lover, his Guinevere. A cotton blanket clung to both of their bottom halves. Their upper bodies were bare, exposed with nothing but each other’s body heat to keep them warm. Arthur lay on his side, one muscular arm slung over Gwen’s waist, the other propping his head up. The waves of his sapphire oceans washed over the beach of her body, soaking her up, dragging little parts of her back into the sea, into him.
This was his favourite time, his favourite part, although people may be surprised to know it. It wasn’t the passionate, desperate, hungry doings of the night that he loved most; it was the quiet, tender peaceful moments of the morning. When she lay bare before him, deep in peaceful dreams, where he could watch her just breathing, soaking up very inch of her, memorizing the details, sorting them away in the corners of his heart to pull out on the nights they couldn’t do this, when she was no longer lying beside him. These small moments of peace were what he cherished the most, just holding her in his arms.
Arthur’s breathing came out slowly and carefully, like wistful sighs as he watched Gwen sleep, surveying her dream. He wondered what she dreamt, questioned if he was in them, what they did if he was. She looked so blissful. Her skin was glowing from the aftermath of the activities they’d performed during the night. Her deep dark hair was ruffled where he had run his hands through it and it lay sprawled out over the pillow and across her sleeping face.
He attentively brushed the strands of brown colour out of the way. Guinevere moaning her approval leaned into his touch. When his fingers brushed gently against her lips she kissed them softly, the movement done sub-consciously as she was still fast asleep. A lopsided, self-satisfied smirk appeared on the prince’s face and his eyes glowed brightly with affection and adoration.
Gwen was lying on her side, leaning into his body, snuggled up closely. Her face was inches away from his bared torso, her breaths tickled him. The subtle caress should have cooled his skin, chilled it but instead it heated him. Guinevere’s gentle breathing set Arthur ablaze, sparked the fire inside of him. The half smirk broadened as he wondered if she’d object to him waking her up for another round of love making.
Love making, Arthur gave a little laugh of disbelief; he’d never thought he’d call it that. He had always mocked others who used the term, had called them soppy. It wasn’t until Guinevere that he realised the truth, had found the phrase flashing through his mind, falling off his tongue with a comfortable ease. True, the only person to ever hear him say the word out loud was Gwen herself but then who else could he mention it to, his father?
Yes he could see that going down well ‘Sorry father I can’t stay, I’m off to make fiery love to Guinevere, yes Morgan’s handmaiden Gwen, that’s the one’. He could picture Uther’s reaction, his disapproval, his rage. Arthur eyes darken slightly at the thought. He hated this sneaking around, the stolen kisses in dim corners, the veiled moments of passion, the love they had to hide. He despised the thought that his Guinevere may feel like a mistress, a conquest, a play thing. Arthur’s face scrunched up in obvious disgust at the thought, she was so much more. Of course she’d reassured him over and over she didn’t feel this way, that she knew the truth, knew how he felt. But it still pained him that they had to behave in such a manner, as if their love was dirty.
Gwen shifted slightly and let out a mumbled “mmmmm”; her hand came down from its resting place by her face and wrapped itself round his hip over the top of the blanket, squeezing it a little in her sleeping state. Great warmth could be felt from the touch and Arthur smiled. There she went again saving him from unpleasant thoughts. He wondered how she did that. How she knew when he needed her to interrupt, required her to bring peace. She’d done it before, before they’d even taken this journey, prior to moment when their hearts had melted into one, when they’d still been the prince and the handmaiden.
The first time he could really recall it was when they had ventured out to save Merlin’s village Ealdor. Gwen had chastised him for his ungratefulness of the food Hunith had made him. Arthur had been shocked by her outburst, stunned by her forwardness, how she had looked, like a noble woman full of grace and confidence. He was then equally surprised by how quickly she turned back into the servant, how she shrank back down, turning in on herself.
He’d called her back thanked her and then for some unknown reason laid before her his troubles, his worries. Arthur had placed them at her feet and she’d taken them, rolled them up in a ball and thrown them away, ripped them from his shoulders, lifting the weight. Gwen didn’t feed him a line rehearsed in the servant quarters. She didn’t boost his ego. Didn’t tell him that they would all be fine because he was brave or strong or that he was a wonderful warrior, she’d simply told him she had faith in him. He remembered how her brown lakes had burned into his, how not a hint of a lie could be found in them, merely truths and it had warmed his soul, given him faith. Arthur had really seen her then, for the first time he supposed. He’d seen beyond the servant and had seen her for who she was and what she could be, given the chance, he’d seen his Guinevere.
Arthur let his gaze travel down and up her body gradually, examining every inch of her, treasuring each second. He admired her quietly in the morning light. The silkiness of her skin, the delicate rise and fall of her chest, each finger on her hand, her eyelids like cushions of satin, the beauty spot on her check, her plump lips, the distinction of her collar bone, the curves of her hips. Each feature of her body had a firm place in his heart, a position that time or station could not rid it of. He loved her, pure and simple and if it killed him he’d find away for them to come out of the shadows and bask in the light.
He fondly traced the shape of her curves with his eyes; he knew every one, every line, each dip, had claimed them all with his lips, left his mark on her chocolate skin. The moment of his departure was nearly upon them, the light was coming in more strongly now, the sun was beginning to show itself. He didn’t like to leave her, didn’t want her to wake up without him being there but it must be done if they were to keep their secret hidden from his father’s disapproving eyes, but he wouldn’t leave without saying goodbye first.
He lent slowly down so that his face was levelled with hers. With love burning through his veins he started to rub his nose tenderly all over her face, against her cheek, her forehead until finally it came to her nose. He heard her let out a contented moan as she stirred from the dreams she been floating in moments before and began rubbing her nose against his, turning round to lie on her back during the process. Arthur grinned broadly and let his lips fall to Gwen’s, brushing them delicately over hers. Gwen let out a slight protest of ‘mmmm’ when he began to draw back and lazily grabbed the back of his neck bringing him back down towards her pressing her lips hard into his. Arthur chuckled into the kiss and returned it with as much enthusiasm.
Guinevere moved her hands from the back of his neck and into his hair, ruffling it up. After a few moments she tugged gently, forcing Arthur to lift his head slightly creating a minute gap between their eager lips.
“What time is it?” she questioned while a yawn over came her.
“Early, near sunrise” he replied, his voiced hushed and husky from the lack of use.
Gwen’s orbs fixed onto his, there was a disappointment in them, a longing that could also be seen in his own. They were both yearning for the moment not to end. Arthur’s eyes grew thoughtful as he tried to find the words to say how he felt, but he had never been good with them and even love couldn’t change that. He had no fancy words of declaration to utter to her, no elaborate words for the parting, no poems recited to memory. Arthur had only his soul, his heart to offer her and how could he put them into words. How could he make her understand and she ought to have words. Deserved to be told in some romantic poetic way how much she was loved, adored, wanted and appreciated but he could not for the life of him conjure them up.
Gwen ran her hands down through his hair and brought her palms up onto either side of his face. Her thumbs rubbed tender circles into his cheeks and a small smile formed on her lips. Her hazel orbs sparkled with an understanding that came from her spirit.
“I don’t need them” she whispered as she brought her forehead to rest against his. “I have you and that’s more than I’ll ever need”
Arthur let out a puff for air filled with a mixture of disbelief, fondness and humour and pushed his lips into hers once more. There she goes again he thought, his lips curing upwards against hers. It still amazed him how they fitted together perfectly as if someone had hand crafted them as a pair, as if their souls were always in an understanding. Arthur felt Gwen smile against his lips and heard the muffled sound of her bubbly laugh. When the embrace broke off Gwen’s eyes flickered to the window and she sighed.
“You should be going” she reluctantly admitted. Arthur nodded but made no effort to move, Gwen raised her eyebrows and her eyes grew wide in an affection manner.
“Arthur” a playful accusation tone layered over the word.
“Guinevere” Arthur smugly replied unable to keep the laugh hidden in his voice, he had her and they both knew it. She couldn’t resist her name being said that way; the blush had already formed on her cheeks. How he dearly loved that he could still get her to do that. She groaned and rolled her eyes as if reading his thoughts.
“A few more seconds,” she said. Arthur was leaning in to catch her lips once more with his when Gwen prodded his chest with one of her fingers and said her tone full of mock authority, “A FEW SECONDS Arthur”.
Arthur raised his eyebrows and his distinctive famous smirk fell upon his face as he nodded. A twinkle set in his eye he closed the gap between them.