Afternoon - A Merlin fanfiction
Title: Afternoon
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Gwen/Lancelot
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 741
Warnings: Shameless fluff
Summary: The one where Lancelot became a blacksmith
Author's Note: It sets somewhere between Season 3 and 4. Sorry, I haven't written any backstory for it; this time I wanted to make the fluff only. If you're interested in a prequel, read this - it mostly covers it all. :) Also, I do not own anything; the characters belong to BBC!
Afternoon
“Let me help you,” Lancelot said.
“You can’t,” Gwen replied, shaking her head. Then she grabbed the hammer again and hit the hot iron with it. It was Lancelot’s sword that needed to be fixed: it had almost broken during the practice earlier that day.
“But I can’t watch a lady doing a man’s job either,” he said, ducking his head, looking firmly at her.
“I’m not a lady.” She hit the iron again to prove that. Ladies didn’t work with hammers; it was a well-known fact. However, she couldn’t help throwing a glance at him after that, feeling that her heart started to race. She knew that despite being only the blacksmith’s daughter, Lancelot always saw her as a lady and always treated her that way. A smile ran through her red, sweaty face as their eyes met; then she swept a few locks of hair behind her ears before striking with the hammer again.
“Nor are you a blacksmith,” he pointed out.
“It’s not my fault that your sword has broken when Elyan is on patrol,” she told him. Then, realizing what she had just said, she apologized. “I… I didn’t mean that it would be your fault, it’s… it’s just a coincidence,” she explained, biting her lower lip.
“It’s all right,” he said, taking a step closer. “Let me help,” he asked again and his gaze was burning her, more than the heat coming from the iron.
“You’re not a blacksmith either,” she said; however, the fact that he was insisting on helping her made her somehow curious. She raised a brow and looked at him feeling the butterflies waking up in her stomach.
“But I learn fast,” he said, standing beside her now.
Gwen laughed a little, letting Lancelot know that he won. It interested her how he would mend a sword, being so good at fighting with it. She also found herself wondering how he would look like as a blacksmith and this thought made her blush.
“You’ll find an apron over there,” she told him, making a gesture towards the door; beside that there was a few nails in the wall to hang the aprons on them. She watched him go for the apron and putting it on then he turned to her and smiled. Gwen returned his smile with a flushing red face, and then she looked away.
He was standing next to her with a heartwarming smile, wearing an old black apron, ready to work. She grinned at him with an increasing heartbeat then took a deep breath to calm herself down.
“Hold the sword here,” she told him, pointing at the hilt. “Make sure you have a firm grip on it,” she continued, showing him the right angle. Then she handed him the hammer, telling him how to strike with it.
He was a fast learner indeed, even though at first he missed the right spot, almost ruining the sword. Gwen watched him with admiration as he was trying to mend his weapon; with a determined face turned red from the heat and the strain. She found him extremely handsome and this thought made her throat run dry. Noticing her gaze on himself, Lancelot smiled - it pulled Gwen back to reality; it was time to move on to the next step. She told him to put the sword into the tub full of water and the iron hissed as he did so. They smiled at each other cheerfully, perhaps proudly: Lancelot because he could mend his sword and Gwen because she could teach him how to do it.
“Here’s your sword,” she said, handing it to him after taking it out of the tub, “mended by yourself.”
“Thank you, My Lady,” he said, taking it.
Gwen’s cheeks turned red as she heard his words and she opened her mouth to object, but Lancelot made her speechless with one look. One look that told her: it didn’t matter where she had come from, to him she was a lady and nothing would change that. She nodded her head then took a deep breath, while her heart was racing - she found it incredible what only one look of his could do to her.
“Next time I can teach you how to shoe a horse,” she said with a small smile.
“Really?” Lancelot raised a brow - he seemed surprised. But Gwen didn’t say a word; only her smile widened and she shook her head.
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Gwen/Lancelot
Genre: Romance
Rating: PG-13
Word Count: 741
Warnings: Shameless fluff
Summary: The one where Lancelot became a blacksmith
Author's Note: It sets somewhere between Season 3 and 4. Sorry, I haven't written any backstory for it; this time I wanted to make the fluff only. If you're interested in a prequel, read this - it mostly covers it all. :) Also, I do not own anything; the characters belong to BBC!
Afternoon
“Let me help you,” Lancelot said.
“You can’t,” Gwen replied, shaking her head. Then she grabbed the hammer again and hit the hot iron with it. It was Lancelot’s sword that needed to be fixed: it had almost broken during the practice earlier that day.
“But I can’t watch a lady doing a man’s job either,” he said, ducking his head, looking firmly at her.
“I’m not a lady.” She hit the iron again to prove that. Ladies didn’t work with hammers; it was a well-known fact. However, she couldn’t help throwing a glance at him after that, feeling that her heart started to race. She knew that despite being only the blacksmith’s daughter, Lancelot always saw her as a lady and always treated her that way. A smile ran through her red, sweaty face as their eyes met; then she swept a few locks of hair behind her ears before striking with the hammer again.
“Nor are you a blacksmith,” he pointed out.
“It’s not my fault that your sword has broken when Elyan is on patrol,” she told him. Then, realizing what she had just said, she apologized. “I… I didn’t mean that it would be your fault, it’s… it’s just a coincidence,” she explained, biting her lower lip.
“It’s all right,” he said, taking a step closer. “Let me help,” he asked again and his gaze was burning her, more than the heat coming from the iron.
“You’re not a blacksmith either,” she said; however, the fact that he was insisting on helping her made her somehow curious. She raised a brow and looked at him feeling the butterflies waking up in her stomach.
“But I learn fast,” he said, standing beside her now.
Gwen laughed a little, letting Lancelot know that he won. It interested her how he would mend a sword, being so good at fighting with it. She also found herself wondering how he would look like as a blacksmith and this thought made her blush.
“You’ll find an apron over there,” she told him, making a gesture towards the door; beside that there was a few nails in the wall to hang the aprons on them. She watched him go for the apron and putting it on then he turned to her and smiled. Gwen returned his smile with a flushing red face, and then she looked away.
He was standing next to her with a heartwarming smile, wearing an old black apron, ready to work. She grinned at him with an increasing heartbeat then took a deep breath to calm herself down.
“Hold the sword here,” she told him, pointing at the hilt. “Make sure you have a firm grip on it,” she continued, showing him the right angle. Then she handed him the hammer, telling him how to strike with it.
He was a fast learner indeed, even though at first he missed the right spot, almost ruining the sword. Gwen watched him with admiration as he was trying to mend his weapon; with a determined face turned red from the heat and the strain. She found him extremely handsome and this thought made her throat run dry. Noticing her gaze on himself, Lancelot smiled - it pulled Gwen back to reality; it was time to move on to the next step. She told him to put the sword into the tub full of water and the iron hissed as he did so. They smiled at each other cheerfully, perhaps proudly: Lancelot because he could mend his sword and Gwen because she could teach him how to do it.
“Here’s your sword,” she said, handing it to him after taking it out of the tub, “mended by yourself.”
“Thank you, My Lady,” he said, taking it.
Gwen’s cheeks turned red as she heard his words and she opened her mouth to object, but Lancelot made her speechless with one look. One look that told her: it didn’t matter where she had come from, to him she was a lady and nothing would change that. She nodded her head then took a deep breath, while her heart was racing - she found it incredible what only one look of his could do to her.
“Next time I can teach you how to shoe a horse,” she said with a small smile.
“Really?” Lancelot raised a brow - he seemed surprised. But Gwen didn’t say a word; only her smile widened and she shook her head.