Fic: Never Play Leapfrog With A Unicorn (Gwen/Morgana)
Title: Never Play Leapfrog With A Unicorn
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Gwen/Morgana (Arthur/Merlin)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Once there was a prince in Camelot, and his name was Arthur. He was noble prince, a valiant prince, purer and truer than ordinary men. His charm held sway over men and beast alike, and once, it is said, he even managed to tame a rare and mystical unicorn.
A/N: 3500 words. Crack. Unicorns. Utter silliness. *facepalm* Many thanks to
roga for looking through this. ♥ Set some time after 1.11, and has nothing to do with S2 canon.
*
Once there was a prince in Camelot, and his name was Arthur. He was noble prince, a valiant prince, purer and truer than ordinary men. His charm held sway over men and beast alike, and once, it is said, he even managed to tame a rare and mystical unicorn.
Well, that's the official story, anyway.
*
The day starts off like any other.
Gwen helps her father with chores at the forge and heads out to collect fresh flowers for Morgana's chambers. It's a lovely morning, breezy and bright. Gwen lingers a while, watching the gentle wind ripple through the fields. There are crops in the fields again, there is water in the wells, and Gwen is grateful, very grateful indeed.
On her way to the castle she stops by the bakery to ask after Lizzy, the baker's wife, who is with child. There is some commotion in the streets, Gwen notes: small clusters here and there, whispering.
William, the baker, merely shrugs when she asks, 'Who knows, love?'
Lizzie lights up when Gwen hands her a few flowers-Morgana would not mind-and William thanks her with a slice of cake, fresh from the oven. 'For the prettiest girl in Camelot,' he says, smiling.
The whispers grow louder as the castle draws nearer, and Gwen begins to walk a little faster, her heart racing, her mind conjuring a million impossibilities.
As it turns out, she need not have worried.
There is no fresh calamity to be reckoned with. No one is dead, or dying.
She spots Morgana straightaway in the courtyard, who, much to Gwen's relief, appears to be in perfect health. There's Merlin, looking perplexed, and Arthur, rather subdued. The King himself, and Gaius beside him. And there, right before her eyes: a creature more fair than anything Gwen herself could have called up with her feeble imagination.
The unicorn stamps a foot on the ground. Gwen nearly drops the remaining flowers from her hand.
She watches transfixed as the King says, staring at the unicorn, 'This is extraordinary, Arthur. A live unicorn, really.' The sun gleams on the unicorn's coat, white and magnificent.
Gwen has seldom seen Uther Pendragon at a loss for words.
The creature in question appears unperturbed by all the attention, quite at home in the castle's crowded courtyard. Arthur, in contrast, appears perfectly miserable; certainly not the way one ought to appear after having captured a rare and mystical unicorn in flesh.
'Extraordinary,' Uther says.
From beside the King, Gaius says, 'The legends say that a unicorn is pure of heart, and may only be tamed by one who is pure and true himself. Camelot is fortunate indeed to have a crown prince such as you, my lord.' He smiles at Arthur, who says nothing. His face, however, grows a shade of dull red. It's very unusual. Why, when he had slain a unicorn, Arthur had all but strutted around the castle-that is, until the plague arrived and took all cheer away from Camelot.
'Perhaps sire would like to direct further course of action,' Gaius tells the King, who is still staring at the unicorn.
'Action. Yes, of course,' the King says. He looks down for a moment, as if to collect himself. 'This magnificent creature is to remain in our stables as a symbol of peace and prosperity in Camelot. It will be our pride, and the envy of all neighbouring kingdoms,' he announces, now sounding much more like himself. 'Good work, Arthur,' he nods at his son.
Everyone begins to clap.
Arthur makes a face that is possibly meant to be a smile.
*
Afterwards, Gwen hurries to Morgana's quarters and places the flowers in a vase-it would not do to have them wilt and die out of sheer carelessness.
Morgana ambles in soon afterwards, smiling widely when she sees Gwen.
'What happened?' Gwen blurts. 'With the unicorn, I mean. How- how did it get here?'
'I don't know,' Morgana says. 'But I'm about to find out.' Her smile grows even wider.
A little while later, Gwen keeps watch as Morgana corners a somewhat harassed Merlin on his way to Arthur's chambers and drags him to a secluded alcove, ignoring his startled protests.
'Well?' Morgana says.
'I- what?' Merlin looks at Gwen, pleading. Gwen smiles at him in a manner she hopes is reassuring. 'What's going on?'
'The unicorn, Merlin, you know what I'm talking about. How did Arthur capture the unicorn?' Morgana demands.
'The unicorn. Oh. The unicorn. I-'
'Don't even think of lying,' Morgana warns. 'I can tell.'
'Right,' Merlin says. 'The unicorn followed us on our way back from the forest and now it won't go away.'
'Is that so?' Morgana says.
'Of course. Very obstinate, unicorns,' Merlin mutters, not looking at either of them.
'You and Arthur seem to run into a lot of unicorns these days,' Morgana observes.
'What? Oh, you mean that other unicorn,' Merlin laughs, nervous. 'Yes. There are so many.' His ears are very red now.
'That's not the whole story.' Morgana insists.
‘Maybe you should ask Arthur instead,’ Merlin says, stubborn.
Morgana narrows her eyes, and so Gwen says, quickly, keeping her voice gentle, ’You can say it, Merlin. No one will know.’ Even though Morgana should have asked Arthur instead.
Merlin sighs. 'We were in the forest,' he says slowly. 'I was tired, and we were sitting underneath a tree. Resting. The unicorn… came and put its head on Arthur's lap. And then it followed us back to Camelot.'
It takes Gwen some time to help Morgana-who keeps breaking out in fits of laughter at the most inconvenient places-back to her rooms.
*
The unicorn stays. The King announces a feast in its honour.
The creature takes to its new habitat without complaint, and is surprisingly gracious about being gawked at by a gaggle of awestruck men and women at any given time. Some bow before it, bring it flowers and pomegranates.
The care and feeding of the unicorn, however, is a different matter altogether.
'She won't let any of the grooms touch her,' Merlin complains when Gwen runs into him on her way back from the laundry. 'And she almost kicked Gaius when he tried to go near her today. Although that may have been because he's been going on about the sixteen uses of unicorn blood and powdered unicorn horn,' he adds as an afterthought.
'But she lets you touch her, doesn't she?' Gwen asks.
'Yes. And Arthur, of course. Also Mary from the kitchens. Sir Leon. A few people like that,' Merlin says. 'Of course, none of them have to muck out the stables-that's my job.'
Gwen pats his arm, sympathetic. And then, gathering courage, asks a question she has been meaning to ask for a while now.
It's a bit embarrassing, because she stammers and stutters and cannot even bring herself to finish the sentence.
'I…' Merlin sounds a little choked. 'It's not, it's nothing like that. It was that one time, we didn't do anything,' he mumbles.
'So Arthur-'
'I, I wouldn't know,' Merlin says, eyes steadfast on the ground.
He looks oddly vulnerable at that moment, and Gwen doesn't have the heart to pry further.
*
The unicorn, to Morgana's utter delight, does not mind being handled by Morgana-nor by Gwen, for that matter. Gwen, of course, would not have taken it personally if it did mind, but she is very certain Morgana would, and so she breathes a private sigh of relief of when the creature-on their first, tense meeting-sniffs Morgana's hand and graciously accepts the proffered slice of apple. It stands quietly as Morgana strokes its mane, and Merlin says, 'See? She likes you,' with a broad grin.
Their visits become routine after that. A part of Gwen suspects that Morgana is at least a little envious of Arthur, even though it's not something she'll ever say out loud.
'She should have a name,' Morgana tells her one morning, and Gwen, who is somewhat preoccupied with Morgana's laces, absently says, 'Hmm.' It's a complicated dress, and Morgana's back is bare.
She wishes she had been paying more attention when Morgana makes the same announcement later that day, 'I think she should have a name,' imperious.
Arthur scowls. He would take this as an infringement on what he considers his domain, naturally, and Morgana does so enjoy riling him up.
'My mother had a horse called Binky,' Merlin says. 'But she died, and we never had another horse because-'
'Binky?' Arthur says.
'Or Betsy?' Merlin offers. 'Betsy is a nice name.'
Morgana brightens. 'She looks like a Betsy, doesn't she?'
'She's my ho- my unicorn,' Arthur says, scowling some more. 'Don't you think I should have some say in the matter?'
'What's wrong with Betsy?' Morgana says with an identical scowl. The unicorn nuzzles her hand.
'I think she likes being called Betsy,' Gwen has to say.
*
The unicorn does indeed like being called being Betsy.
*
The feast is lavish, even by Camelot's standards. A small part of Gwen wonders if such, well, she doesn't want to use the word waste, such extravagance is appropriate so soon after a terrible crisis.
Still, it is pleasant: food is plentiful, and so is wine. The music is pleasing. Gwen thinks of that dreadful time when the taps were dry and the fields were barren and is very grateful, indeed.
As it would happen, she spends most of her time keeping an eye on Morgana and escaping the attentions of a very insistent Lord Aelfric. He is there behind every pillar and in every shadowy alcove; Gwen bumps into him for the umpteenth time and hears him begin to say, 'Guinevere, dear-', before she gathers her skirts and literally flees the scene, as fast as her feet will take her.
And that is how she finds herself face to face with Arthur, who has spent most of the evening on a bench, drinking himself into a stupor and muttering to himself about the lack of time and stupid unicorns.
'Guinevere!' he brightens. 'Refill my cup, will you?'
Gwen does, against her best judgement.
'I've kissed plenty of people, you know,' Arthur tells her as she hands him the cup. His fingers brush overs hers, warm.
'I'm sure you have, sire,' Gwen agrees, not sure what that has to do with anything. She looks around for Merlin, who has chosen this very moment to completely disappear from the scene.
'Plenty of people,' Arthur insists. 'I could kiss plenty of people. If I wanted to. I'm the crown prince. In fact, I could kiss you. You're very pretty,' he slurs, and Gwen would be alarmed if he didn't look like he will topple over any moment now. 'You'd kiss me, wouldn't you?'
'No! I mean, not that I wouldn't want to kiss you, that is-' Gwen stutters, resolutely not thinking about whether or not she would ever wish to kiss Arthur. That is beside the point. And then, somewhat emboldened by the fact that Arthur is really drunk, she says, 'That would be inappropriate, sire.'
'Why?' Arthur sounds less like the crown prince and more like an overgrown child, denied his favourite toy. 'I've kissed whatshername who brings my food sometimes, the one with the red hair, I've kissed Merlin, and anyway I'm sure Morgana kisses you all the time.'
'I-' Gwen squeaks. 'That is none of your business. Sire.'
'Gwen,' says a familiar voice from her left. 'Is Arthur bothering you?'
Gwen would be relieved, but Morgana's expression is stormy, and Gwen, remembering that her lady is not exactly the picture of sobriety herself, says, 'No, no, my lady. We were just… talking.' Soothing.
'Talking. I see.' Morgana sounds suspicious. Gwen shoots a quick glance at Arthur-who now appears to have gone to sleep, mouth slightly open-and decides against confiding in Morgana about the true nature of their conversation. 'And Aelfric, is he still after you? If I catch him pawing at you once more-'
'It's all right, my lady,' Gwen says. 'I can take care of myself.' She has to. And when she can't, Gwen thinks, recalling iron around her wrists, Morgana is right there beside her, like living flame.
'I know you can.' Morgana reaches out and runs her fingers down Gwen's arm, before taking hold of Gwen's wrist. 'You always take care of me. You take care of everybody,' she says, her voice soft and low. Intimate.
They walk out to the courtyard, past the singing and the dancing to a quiet spot near the training grounds. Morgana laughs as she pulls Gwen down beside her on the slightly damp grass, careless. She places an arm around Gwen's waist and draws her close, resting her head on Gwen's shoulder. Gwen stares at the sky, the stars. Camelot's walls gleam white in the moonlight.
'I can feel the world move,' Morgana says, 'when I close my eyes.'
'Perhaps you've had a bit too much to drink,' Gwen tells her.
Morgana laughs again, delighted. And then Morgana's lips are on Gwen's collarbone and Morgana's hands are on her breasts, and when Gwen closes her eyes she can feel her world spin, dizzying.
*
The castle is quiet the day after, the nobles still in bed and the servants going about their chores in a leisurely pace. The only person in a hurry, it seems, is Merlin, who has to deliver hangover cures from Gaius to various people before rushing to the stables to assist Arthur with Betsy's daily grooming.
'He's up already?' Gwen asks, surprised, recalling her extraordinary encounter with the prince the previous night. Morgana had refused to stir when Gwen tried to wake her in the morning, citing a terrible headache and bone-deep exhaustion and a number of other horrible maladies-all the after-effects of intoxication. She had finally left the bed in a sour mood, only when pangs of hunger could no longer be ignored.
'Yes,' Merlin groans. 'And you know how he gets about Betsy.'
Gwen nods sympathetically-Arthur is fond of his horses, and growing fonder of the unicorn with each passing day-and agrees to take Lord Eldred's potion to his chambers, earning herself a grateful smile.
Morgana is finished with her bath by the time Gwen returns to her quarters. Gwen combs her hair and helps her with her dress, doing her best not to linger on bare skin.
Morgana laughs when she learns of Merlin's predicament, and insists they visit the stables at once, slipping an arm around Gwen's. There's an impish smile on her face, which means she will very likely taunt Arthur mercilessly or pick a fight with him or taunt Arthur mercilessly and pick a fight with him, and her hand is warm against Gwen's own and, well. Gwen doesn't particularly mind.
*
Arthur is remarkably graceful about being found caressing and cooing over his unicorn by Morgana, despite his lingering… discomfort about the… circumstances that brought the creature to him in the first place.
'Hello, Morgana,' he says pleasantly. 'Guinevere.' Gwen feels her face grow warm, and hopes he does not remember their conversation from the feast. Merlin waves at her from behind Arthur, rake in hand.
'Hard at work, I see,' Morgana says. She reaches out to touch the unicorn's long, white mane. 'Hey, Betsy.'
'Careful,' Arthur hisses, even though Betsy does not appear to have any fresh objections to being handled by Morgana. Gwen strokes the unicorn's back.
Morgana looks pleased, a little wistful as she says, 'Will she have any rider yet?'
'Morgana,' Arthur says, expression wavering between annoyance and intrigue. 'In case you haven't noticed, she's not a common horse, she's a unicorn.'
'A unicorn will bear no mortal man on its back,' Merlin says, disapproving. And, under Arthur's quelling glare, adds hastily, 'Unless she feels like it, maybe? Um.'
'It would have to be an honour,' Morgana says, almost reverent.
Gwen can suddenly see where this is leading. And, right on cue, Arthur says, 'I'm certain she'd let me. If I asked.'
'That's what I call overconfidence,' Morgana says with a smile. Gwen knows that smile. And so should Arthur, after-
'Nonsense,' Arthur says. 'You'd have me as your rider, wouldn't you?' he tells Betsy, who tosses her head and snorts.
Gwen sighs. Of course Morgana would make it a matter of pride.
'Arthur, she hasn't been shod, or-' Merlin begins to say, alarmed.
'Be quiet, Merlin. I'm not taking her for a ride,' Arthur commands. 'Give me a leg up.'
Merlin flashes a distressed glance in Gwen's direction and, after a moment's hesitation, does as he's told.
Gwen closes her eyes, unable to look.
When she opens them again, Arthur is astride the unicorn, looking very pleased with himself. 'There, you see?' Arthur smiles. He pats Betsy on the back.
He does, Gwen must admit, cut a very fine figure: golden and shining, as though out of a childhood fairytale.
The unicorn tosses its magnificent head, once. Whinnies.
Then it begins to run.
*
Wandering minstrels still sing of the day Prince Arthur rode out to the streets of Camelot upon his very own unicorn.
They usually skip the part about the dung heap.
*
A few days later, Morgana is still inordinately cheerful, looking almost as though she were about to burst into song. It's somewhat alarming, as Gwen knows for fact that Morgana has bribed a couple of scullery maids and one lovestruck stablehand into recounting the songs circulating in the streets about Arthur's feat. Gwen knows this, because Morgana insists on repeating every one of them afterwards, sometimes with tune. And hand gestures. A number of them are extremely inappropriate.
'I don't want to hear about taxes today, Gwen,' Morgana complains when Gwen lays out her dress. 'I fear I will fall asleep, and then Uther will be displeased.'
'The King will be displeased if you are absent, my lady,' Gwen points out.
'Not if I offer a suitable excuse.' Morgana smiles brightly. 'Do send word that I'm ill, and then we'll disappear from the castle for the rest of the day.' Her smile turns conspiratorial now, and Gwen can scarce do anything but smile back and say, 'I will see to it.'
Outside, it's beautiful: bright and clear and impossibly blue, the sun a warm caress on the skin. Gwen and Morgana walk leisurely through the market, up to a quiet spot by the river. Gwen has fond memories of afternoons in that glade-picking flowers, practising at swords, lying on the grass and staring at the sky, comfortable.
Today, however, it is already occupied: on a flat rock just beside the water is a very thoughtful Arthur, chewing absently on a piece of grass. Merlin stands a little apart, throwing stones into the river.
'Beautiful day,' he yells when he sees them approaching, face lighting up in that way of his. Arthur frowns at Morgana, who moves to sit beside him on the rock and says, 'I hear they're singing songs about you in the city, Arthur.'
Arthur's frown grows even more pronounced. 'Why are you not in the court with my father, Morgana?'
Gwen sits down on the grass, sharing a small smile with Merlin. It's very pleasant.
'I could ask you the same question,' Morgana says.
'I heard a song in the market today,' Merlin chimes in. 'It's really catchy.'
'Was that the one about the purity of his heart?' Morgana says at the same time as Arthur says, 'Merlin!', scathing.
Merlin's grin grows wider. 'It was very flattering. You'll like it.'
'I do not require flattery, Merlin,' Arthur says stiffly. 'If the people of Camelot wish to remember their prince in song, it is their choice.'
Morgana begins to laugh uproariously. Gwen has to work very hard not to follow suite. Not that she thinks Arthur deserves the humiliation, no, it's just that some of the songs are… really inappropriate.
Arthur glares at Morgana.
'Would you like me to sing a song for you?' Morgana says, innocent.
Few in Camelot can match Arthur's skill with the sword, or the speed in which he moves in combat. Gwen has witnessed him in many a tournament, stunning seemingly quicker opponents into abject surrender.
She watches him again as he shifts slightly: a movement of his hand and then there's a splash, cool river water streaming down Morgana's face, her neck, ruining the front of her dress.
'No,' Arthur smirks. 'Your voice is atrocious.'
Morgana looks utterly furious. And, after a moment, retaliates by pushing Arthur squarely into the river.
It's all very improper, to say the least, but Gwen is laughing too hard to care.
**
Fandom: Merlin
Pairing: Gwen/Morgana (Arthur/Merlin)
Rating: PG-13
Summary: Once there was a prince in Camelot, and his name was Arthur. He was noble prince, a valiant prince, purer and truer than ordinary men. His charm held sway over men and beast alike, and once, it is said, he even managed to tame a rare and mystical unicorn.
A/N: 3500 words. Crack. Unicorns. Utter silliness. *facepalm* Many thanks to
roga for looking through this. ♥ Set some time after 1.11, and has nothing to do with S2 canon.
*
Once there was a prince in Camelot, and his name was Arthur. He was noble prince, a valiant prince, purer and truer than ordinary men. His charm held sway over men and beast alike, and once, it is said, he even managed to tame a rare and mystical unicorn.
Well, that's the official story, anyway.
*
The day starts off like any other.
Gwen helps her father with chores at the forge and heads out to collect fresh flowers for Morgana's chambers. It's a lovely morning, breezy and bright. Gwen lingers a while, watching the gentle wind ripple through the fields. There are crops in the fields again, there is water in the wells, and Gwen is grateful, very grateful indeed.
On her way to the castle she stops by the bakery to ask after Lizzy, the baker's wife, who is with child. There is some commotion in the streets, Gwen notes: small clusters here and there, whispering.
William, the baker, merely shrugs when she asks, 'Who knows, love?'
Lizzie lights up when Gwen hands her a few flowers-Morgana would not mind-and William thanks her with a slice of cake, fresh from the oven. 'For the prettiest girl in Camelot,' he says, smiling.
The whispers grow louder as the castle draws nearer, and Gwen begins to walk a little faster, her heart racing, her mind conjuring a million impossibilities.
As it turns out, she need not have worried.
There is no fresh calamity to be reckoned with. No one is dead, or dying.
She spots Morgana straightaway in the courtyard, who, much to Gwen's relief, appears to be in perfect health. There's Merlin, looking perplexed, and Arthur, rather subdued. The King himself, and Gaius beside him. And there, right before her eyes: a creature more fair than anything Gwen herself could have called up with her feeble imagination.
The unicorn stamps a foot on the ground. Gwen nearly drops the remaining flowers from her hand.
She watches transfixed as the King says, staring at the unicorn, 'This is extraordinary, Arthur. A live unicorn, really.' The sun gleams on the unicorn's coat, white and magnificent.
Gwen has seldom seen Uther Pendragon at a loss for words.
The creature in question appears unperturbed by all the attention, quite at home in the castle's crowded courtyard. Arthur, in contrast, appears perfectly miserable; certainly not the way one ought to appear after having captured a rare and mystical unicorn in flesh.
'Extraordinary,' Uther says.
From beside the King, Gaius says, 'The legends say that a unicorn is pure of heart, and may only be tamed by one who is pure and true himself. Camelot is fortunate indeed to have a crown prince such as you, my lord.' He smiles at Arthur, who says nothing. His face, however, grows a shade of dull red. It's very unusual. Why, when he had slain a unicorn, Arthur had all but strutted around the castle-that is, until the plague arrived and took all cheer away from Camelot.
'Perhaps sire would like to direct further course of action,' Gaius tells the King, who is still staring at the unicorn.
'Action. Yes, of course,' the King says. He looks down for a moment, as if to collect himself. 'This magnificent creature is to remain in our stables as a symbol of peace and prosperity in Camelot. It will be our pride, and the envy of all neighbouring kingdoms,' he announces, now sounding much more like himself. 'Good work, Arthur,' he nods at his son.
Everyone begins to clap.
Arthur makes a face that is possibly meant to be a smile.
*
Afterwards, Gwen hurries to Morgana's quarters and places the flowers in a vase-it would not do to have them wilt and die out of sheer carelessness.
Morgana ambles in soon afterwards, smiling widely when she sees Gwen.
'What happened?' Gwen blurts. 'With the unicorn, I mean. How- how did it get here?'
'I don't know,' Morgana says. 'But I'm about to find out.' Her smile grows even wider.
A little while later, Gwen keeps watch as Morgana corners a somewhat harassed Merlin on his way to Arthur's chambers and drags him to a secluded alcove, ignoring his startled protests.
'Well?' Morgana says.
'I- what?' Merlin looks at Gwen, pleading. Gwen smiles at him in a manner she hopes is reassuring. 'What's going on?'
'The unicorn, Merlin, you know what I'm talking about. How did Arthur capture the unicorn?' Morgana demands.
'The unicorn. Oh. The unicorn. I-'
'Don't even think of lying,' Morgana warns. 'I can tell.'
'Right,' Merlin says. 'The unicorn followed us on our way back from the forest and now it won't go away.'
'Is that so?' Morgana says.
'Of course. Very obstinate, unicorns,' Merlin mutters, not looking at either of them.
'You and Arthur seem to run into a lot of unicorns these days,' Morgana observes.
'What? Oh, you mean that other unicorn,' Merlin laughs, nervous. 'Yes. There are so many.' His ears are very red now.
'That's not the whole story.' Morgana insists.
‘Maybe you should ask Arthur instead,’ Merlin says, stubborn.
Morgana narrows her eyes, and so Gwen says, quickly, keeping her voice gentle, ’You can say it, Merlin. No one will know.’ Even though Morgana should have asked Arthur instead.
Merlin sighs. 'We were in the forest,' he says slowly. 'I was tired, and we were sitting underneath a tree. Resting. The unicorn… came and put its head on Arthur's lap. And then it followed us back to Camelot.'
It takes Gwen some time to help Morgana-who keeps breaking out in fits of laughter at the most inconvenient places-back to her rooms.
*
The unicorn stays. The King announces a feast in its honour.
The creature takes to its new habitat without complaint, and is surprisingly gracious about being gawked at by a gaggle of awestruck men and women at any given time. Some bow before it, bring it flowers and pomegranates.
The care and feeding of the unicorn, however, is a different matter altogether.
'She won't let any of the grooms touch her,' Merlin complains when Gwen runs into him on her way back from the laundry. 'And she almost kicked Gaius when he tried to go near her today. Although that may have been because he's been going on about the sixteen uses of unicorn blood and powdered unicorn horn,' he adds as an afterthought.
'But she lets you touch her, doesn't she?' Gwen asks.
'Yes. And Arthur, of course. Also Mary from the kitchens. Sir Leon. A few people like that,' Merlin says. 'Of course, none of them have to muck out the stables-that's my job.'
Gwen pats his arm, sympathetic. And then, gathering courage, asks a question she has been meaning to ask for a while now.
It's a bit embarrassing, because she stammers and stutters and cannot even bring herself to finish the sentence.
'I…' Merlin sounds a little choked. 'It's not, it's nothing like that. It was that one time, we didn't do anything,' he mumbles.
'So Arthur-'
'I, I wouldn't know,' Merlin says, eyes steadfast on the ground.
He looks oddly vulnerable at that moment, and Gwen doesn't have the heart to pry further.
*
The unicorn, to Morgana's utter delight, does not mind being handled by Morgana-nor by Gwen, for that matter. Gwen, of course, would not have taken it personally if it did mind, but she is very certain Morgana would, and so she breathes a private sigh of relief of when the creature-on their first, tense meeting-sniffs Morgana's hand and graciously accepts the proffered slice of apple. It stands quietly as Morgana strokes its mane, and Merlin says, 'See? She likes you,' with a broad grin.
Their visits become routine after that. A part of Gwen suspects that Morgana is at least a little envious of Arthur, even though it's not something she'll ever say out loud.
'She should have a name,' Morgana tells her one morning, and Gwen, who is somewhat preoccupied with Morgana's laces, absently says, 'Hmm.' It's a complicated dress, and Morgana's back is bare.
She wishes she had been paying more attention when Morgana makes the same announcement later that day, 'I think she should have a name,' imperious.
Arthur scowls. He would take this as an infringement on what he considers his domain, naturally, and Morgana does so enjoy riling him up.
'My mother had a horse called Binky,' Merlin says. 'But she died, and we never had another horse because-'
'Binky?' Arthur says.
'Or Betsy?' Merlin offers. 'Betsy is a nice name.'
Morgana brightens. 'She looks like a Betsy, doesn't she?'
'She's my ho- my unicorn,' Arthur says, scowling some more. 'Don't you think I should have some say in the matter?'
'What's wrong with Betsy?' Morgana says with an identical scowl. The unicorn nuzzles her hand.
'I think she likes being called Betsy,' Gwen has to say.
*
The unicorn does indeed like being called being Betsy.
*
The feast is lavish, even by Camelot's standards. A small part of Gwen wonders if such, well, she doesn't want to use the word waste, such extravagance is appropriate so soon after a terrible crisis.
Still, it is pleasant: food is plentiful, and so is wine. The music is pleasing. Gwen thinks of that dreadful time when the taps were dry and the fields were barren and is very grateful, indeed.
As it would happen, she spends most of her time keeping an eye on Morgana and escaping the attentions of a very insistent Lord Aelfric. He is there behind every pillar and in every shadowy alcove; Gwen bumps into him for the umpteenth time and hears him begin to say, 'Guinevere, dear-', before she gathers her skirts and literally flees the scene, as fast as her feet will take her.
And that is how she finds herself face to face with Arthur, who has spent most of the evening on a bench, drinking himself into a stupor and muttering to himself about the lack of time and stupid unicorns.
'Guinevere!' he brightens. 'Refill my cup, will you?'
Gwen does, against her best judgement.
'I've kissed plenty of people, you know,' Arthur tells her as she hands him the cup. His fingers brush overs hers, warm.
'I'm sure you have, sire,' Gwen agrees, not sure what that has to do with anything. She looks around for Merlin, who has chosen this very moment to completely disappear from the scene.
'Plenty of people,' Arthur insists. 'I could kiss plenty of people. If I wanted to. I'm the crown prince. In fact, I could kiss you. You're very pretty,' he slurs, and Gwen would be alarmed if he didn't look like he will topple over any moment now. 'You'd kiss me, wouldn't you?'
'No! I mean, not that I wouldn't want to kiss you, that is-' Gwen stutters, resolutely not thinking about whether or not she would ever wish to kiss Arthur. That is beside the point. And then, somewhat emboldened by the fact that Arthur is really drunk, she says, 'That would be inappropriate, sire.'
'Why?' Arthur sounds less like the crown prince and more like an overgrown child, denied his favourite toy. 'I've kissed whatshername who brings my food sometimes, the one with the red hair, I've kissed Merlin, and anyway I'm sure Morgana kisses you all the time.'
'I-' Gwen squeaks. 'That is none of your business. Sire.'
'Gwen,' says a familiar voice from her left. 'Is Arthur bothering you?'
Gwen would be relieved, but Morgana's expression is stormy, and Gwen, remembering that her lady is not exactly the picture of sobriety herself, says, 'No, no, my lady. We were just… talking.' Soothing.
'Talking. I see.' Morgana sounds suspicious. Gwen shoots a quick glance at Arthur-who now appears to have gone to sleep, mouth slightly open-and decides against confiding in Morgana about the true nature of their conversation. 'And Aelfric, is he still after you? If I catch him pawing at you once more-'
'It's all right, my lady,' Gwen says. 'I can take care of myself.' She has to. And when she can't, Gwen thinks, recalling iron around her wrists, Morgana is right there beside her, like living flame.
'I know you can.' Morgana reaches out and runs her fingers down Gwen's arm, before taking hold of Gwen's wrist. 'You always take care of me. You take care of everybody,' she says, her voice soft and low. Intimate.
They walk out to the courtyard, past the singing and the dancing to a quiet spot near the training grounds. Morgana laughs as she pulls Gwen down beside her on the slightly damp grass, careless. She places an arm around Gwen's waist and draws her close, resting her head on Gwen's shoulder. Gwen stares at the sky, the stars. Camelot's walls gleam white in the moonlight.
'I can feel the world move,' Morgana says, 'when I close my eyes.'
'Perhaps you've had a bit too much to drink,' Gwen tells her.
Morgana laughs again, delighted. And then Morgana's lips are on Gwen's collarbone and Morgana's hands are on her breasts, and when Gwen closes her eyes she can feel her world spin, dizzying.
*
The castle is quiet the day after, the nobles still in bed and the servants going about their chores in a leisurely pace. The only person in a hurry, it seems, is Merlin, who has to deliver hangover cures from Gaius to various people before rushing to the stables to assist Arthur with Betsy's daily grooming.
'He's up already?' Gwen asks, surprised, recalling her extraordinary encounter with the prince the previous night. Morgana had refused to stir when Gwen tried to wake her in the morning, citing a terrible headache and bone-deep exhaustion and a number of other horrible maladies-all the after-effects of intoxication. She had finally left the bed in a sour mood, only when pangs of hunger could no longer be ignored.
'Yes,' Merlin groans. 'And you know how he gets about Betsy.'
Gwen nods sympathetically-Arthur is fond of his horses, and growing fonder of the unicorn with each passing day-and agrees to take Lord Eldred's potion to his chambers, earning herself a grateful smile.
Morgana is finished with her bath by the time Gwen returns to her quarters. Gwen combs her hair and helps her with her dress, doing her best not to linger on bare skin.
Morgana laughs when she learns of Merlin's predicament, and insists they visit the stables at once, slipping an arm around Gwen's. There's an impish smile on her face, which means she will very likely taunt Arthur mercilessly or pick a fight with him or taunt Arthur mercilessly and pick a fight with him, and her hand is warm against Gwen's own and, well. Gwen doesn't particularly mind.
*
Arthur is remarkably graceful about being found caressing and cooing over his unicorn by Morgana, despite his lingering… discomfort about the… circumstances that brought the creature to him in the first place.
'Hello, Morgana,' he says pleasantly. 'Guinevere.' Gwen feels her face grow warm, and hopes he does not remember their conversation from the feast. Merlin waves at her from behind Arthur, rake in hand.
'Hard at work, I see,' Morgana says. She reaches out to touch the unicorn's long, white mane. 'Hey, Betsy.'
'Careful,' Arthur hisses, even though Betsy does not appear to have any fresh objections to being handled by Morgana. Gwen strokes the unicorn's back.
Morgana looks pleased, a little wistful as she says, 'Will she have any rider yet?'
'Morgana,' Arthur says, expression wavering between annoyance and intrigue. 'In case you haven't noticed, she's not a common horse, she's a unicorn.'
'A unicorn will bear no mortal man on its back,' Merlin says, disapproving. And, under Arthur's quelling glare, adds hastily, 'Unless she feels like it, maybe? Um.'
'It would have to be an honour,' Morgana says, almost reverent.
Gwen can suddenly see where this is leading. And, right on cue, Arthur says, 'I'm certain she'd let me. If I asked.'
'That's what I call overconfidence,' Morgana says with a smile. Gwen knows that smile. And so should Arthur, after-
'Nonsense,' Arthur says. 'You'd have me as your rider, wouldn't you?' he tells Betsy, who tosses her head and snorts.
Gwen sighs. Of course Morgana would make it a matter of pride.
'Arthur, she hasn't been shod, or-' Merlin begins to say, alarmed.
'Be quiet, Merlin. I'm not taking her for a ride,' Arthur commands. 'Give me a leg up.'
Merlin flashes a distressed glance in Gwen's direction and, after a moment's hesitation, does as he's told.
Gwen closes her eyes, unable to look.
When she opens them again, Arthur is astride the unicorn, looking very pleased with himself. 'There, you see?' Arthur smiles. He pats Betsy on the back.
He does, Gwen must admit, cut a very fine figure: golden and shining, as though out of a childhood fairytale.
The unicorn tosses its magnificent head, once. Whinnies.
Then it begins to run.
*
Wandering minstrels still sing of the day Prince Arthur rode out to the streets of Camelot upon his very own unicorn.
They usually skip the part about the dung heap.
*
A few days later, Morgana is still inordinately cheerful, looking almost as though she were about to burst into song. It's somewhat alarming, as Gwen knows for fact that Morgana has bribed a couple of scullery maids and one lovestruck stablehand into recounting the songs circulating in the streets about Arthur's feat. Gwen knows this, because Morgana insists on repeating every one of them afterwards, sometimes with tune. And hand gestures. A number of them are extremely inappropriate.
'I don't want to hear about taxes today, Gwen,' Morgana complains when Gwen lays out her dress. 'I fear I will fall asleep, and then Uther will be displeased.'
'The King will be displeased if you are absent, my lady,' Gwen points out.
'Not if I offer a suitable excuse.' Morgana smiles brightly. 'Do send word that I'm ill, and then we'll disappear from the castle for the rest of the day.' Her smile turns conspiratorial now, and Gwen can scarce do anything but smile back and say, 'I will see to it.'
Outside, it's beautiful: bright and clear and impossibly blue, the sun a warm caress on the skin. Gwen and Morgana walk leisurely through the market, up to a quiet spot by the river. Gwen has fond memories of afternoons in that glade-picking flowers, practising at swords, lying on the grass and staring at the sky, comfortable.
Today, however, it is already occupied: on a flat rock just beside the water is a very thoughtful Arthur, chewing absently on a piece of grass. Merlin stands a little apart, throwing stones into the river.
'Beautiful day,' he yells when he sees them approaching, face lighting up in that way of his. Arthur frowns at Morgana, who moves to sit beside him on the rock and says, 'I hear they're singing songs about you in the city, Arthur.'
Arthur's frown grows even more pronounced. 'Why are you not in the court with my father, Morgana?'
Gwen sits down on the grass, sharing a small smile with Merlin. It's very pleasant.
'I could ask you the same question,' Morgana says.
'I heard a song in the market today,' Merlin chimes in. 'It's really catchy.'
'Was that the one about the purity of his heart?' Morgana says at the same time as Arthur says, 'Merlin!', scathing.
Merlin's grin grows wider. 'It was very flattering. You'll like it.'
'I do not require flattery, Merlin,' Arthur says stiffly. 'If the people of Camelot wish to remember their prince in song, it is their choice.'
Morgana begins to laugh uproariously. Gwen has to work very hard not to follow suite. Not that she thinks Arthur deserves the humiliation, no, it's just that some of the songs are… really inappropriate.
Arthur glares at Morgana.
'Would you like me to sing a song for you?' Morgana says, innocent.
Few in Camelot can match Arthur's skill with the sword, or the speed in which he moves in combat. Gwen has witnessed him in many a tournament, stunning seemingly quicker opponents into abject surrender.
She watches him again as he shifts slightly: a movement of his hand and then there's a splash, cool river water streaming down Morgana's face, her neck, ruining the front of her dress.
'No,' Arthur smirks. 'Your voice is atrocious.'
Morgana looks utterly furious. And, after a moment, retaliates by pushing Arthur squarely into the river.
It's all very improper, to say the least, but Gwen is laughing too hard to care.
**