Spring Fling Drabble - Just a Momentary Thing
Title: Just a Momentary Thing
Author: mustbethursday3
Rating: G
Word count: Lets just say 3000+ and call it a day.
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Guinevere with a dash of Gwen/Merlin, Arthur/Gwen/Morgana, Merlin/Gwen/Morgana and OT4ness.
Spoilers: None. Coz it's an AU prequel.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. I don't know why. I don't really question it.
Summary: Arthur's aware of Gwen, but she's kinda too busy having fun to notice him much back XD
Prompt(s): Written for camelot_love's Spring Fling, #55 Arthur never really notices servants... but the 5 (or whatever #) times he actually noticed Gwen - prompted by dfriendly.
Author’s notes: Dear dfriendly,
Your prompt hates me. We scuffled and fought, it chased my plot bunnies. Then CAUGHT them, boxed them up and tried to mail them to Yugoslavia . . . but I grabbed a broom and beat it around the head until it let go and ran to cower somewhere. This is the best the plot bunnies could do in their shaken condition. One of them is missing an ear, I call him flopsy
Sincerely, Thursday.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Arthur notices the girl because she’s laughing.
He lets his eyes wander over her, as she leans back on the cart she’s sitting on, a wave of curls falling down to swing behind her.
“Don’t,” she says warningly, though her smile betrays her. She’s goading as she watches the darkhaired boy standing before her lift the bucket in his arms questioningly. “You dare…”
Merlin’s eyes twinkle evilly and he hefts the bucket a little higher up on his chest, “You were just complaining about it being too hot,” he reminds. “And as your friend I assumed it was my duty,” he raises his eyebrows, “nay, my right, to cool you down.”
The girl stretches out one long, burnt honey coloured leg to rest a bare foot against his chest, “I mean it, Merlin,” she maintains, this time with a little apprehensive scan around them as if she means to run. “Put the bucket down.”
“Make me an offer.”
“How about I let you live,” the girl smiles, leaning back on her forearms, her foot flexing against Merlin’s tunic.
“You’d never kill me, Gwen,” Merlin argues, testing the weight of the bucket considerately. “Don’t waste my time with your empty threats.”
Gwen’s brown eyes shine dangerously, “Only because Morgana would do a much better job of it,” she observes lightly. Wiggling her toes as Merlin’s mouth twists frustratedly. “She just needs an excuse.”
Arthur stands there a little longer as the two stare at each other, the three of them waiting for something to change. But then the knight master is barking at him to hurry up, and he turns away, hurrying off to practice.
Arthur has to force himself not to turn around when he hears an outraged shriek back in the courtyard, followed by loud manic laughter.
_ _ _
He tries not to shiver, as deft fingers brush through his hair searchingly, her hot breath is landing square on the back of his neck . . . which he has to admit acts as a rather a nice distraction from the pounding of his skull.
“What’s the damage?” he asks gruffly.
Kneeling behind the sitting Prince, flagstones cool against her knees, Gwen smiles at the his impatience. “I think you’ll live, my lord.” She examines the cut closely and bites her lip. “You should really let Gaius have a look at this.”
“No. Just clean it up and I’ll be right.”
“He doesn’t want anyone to know a girl hurt him,” Morgana says, shrewdly, catching Gwen’s eye. “His reputation would be left in tatters,” she continues contemptuously.
“That’s not it AT ALL!” Arthur protests, pretending that one of them is likely to believe him. Behind him, Gwen makes an unhappy sound.
“My lord, I really wish you’d reconsider.”
“You’re doing well,” Arthur assures her. “I feel better already.”
Gwen’s eyes move to Morgana’s.
“Arthur’s head is hard as rock, Gwen.” Morgana mock parries with the air, “We could use it as a battering ram. So, you can stop with the look.”
“My lady-”
“And,” Morgana does a light spin, “stop thinking so loud, I can hear you from here.”
Gwen sighs resignedly, reaching down for the cloth and ointment she’s brought with her. “Sorry my lady, but I forget,” she offers her mistress a puzzled frown, “ . . . how did you phrase your apology, again? I must have missed it.”
Arthur bites the inside of his cheek at the horror that crosses the Ward’s face.
“Apology?” Morgana stops sweeping her sword through the air.
Arthur sits up straighter to give Gwen better access as she begins gently tending to the wound. “Are you standing up for me?” he whispers.
“Definitely not,” Gwen whispers back.
“I expect she means for conking me on the head and attempting to open my head up like a blasted nut,” he says, louder, wincing slightly as the cloth touches raw skin.
Morgana pulls a face. “Well, I refuse to apologise for doing something so many others can only DREAM of.”
Gwen gives her a look.
“And you are a nut,” Morgana simpers, sweetly and continues facing her invisible opponent. “Gwen come on, pick up his sword, I wanna show Arthur how it’s done.”
_ _ _
“What do you want?” Morgana asks suspiciously when he walks into her chamber. “If you’re here to tell me to stay away from Percival I’ve already learnt my lesson. Twice.” She distends her neck as she touches the jewels at her throat. “I don’t know about the red, it’s too much red,” she laments with a pout. “Gwen.”
Her handmaiden appears from out of nowhere and crosses to her side, handing over a plain golden chain. “My lady, you look good in everything,” she assures, with incontestable sincerity.
Morgana smiles at her in the mirror, and Arthur notices that it’s not the kind of smile she directs at anyone else. For this girl, it’s warm and gracious. “Thank you, Gwen.” She fastens the pendant around her neck, before admiring herself in the mirror as Gwen takes the rejected necklace and promptly tucks it back into Morgana’s jewellery box.
“My lord,” Gwen inclines her head to him as she hurries over to get her lady’s cloak.
“Guinevere,” Arthur acknowledges, forced - as has become habitual of late - to drag himself from thoughts of laughter and curls. “You look . . . busy.”
“Oh, Arthur why are you still darkening my doorway?” Morgana groans, spinning around on her stool to glare at him.
“Well, if you’d let me get a word in.”
Morgana stands, hands running down to smooth nonexistent creases in her crimson gown. “I promise you, I am BORED of your knights. They’re all lunk heads, only interested in one thing.”
Arthur rolls his eyes, he knows his men and he knows Morgana. If anyone’s a victim in their dealings its not going to be her.
“Combat,” Gwen supplies, briskly returning to throw a silk cloak around Morgana’s shoulders, tying it on in a quick practiced motion.
“Exactly!” Morgana crows. “See, Gwen gets it. Why can’t everyone be more like Gwen?”
Gwen looks at him pityingly. “Did you want me to find Merlin for you?”
“He always turns up,” Morgana scoffs. “Arthur’s more liable to be here to ask you to lose Merlin somewhere.”
Arthur hides a smile at the face Gwen makes in response; it’s part amusement and part offense, though he’s not sure on whose behalf she’s feeling it.
He nods to the two young women looking at him expectantly. “Actually, I was wondering if you had any thoughts on what to get father for his birthday.”
Morgana starts for the door. “A heart? No, I know BLINKERS! I'll speak to the stablehands immediately.”
“Morgaaaaana,” Arthur sighs, turning as she passes him. “I need help, not mockery.”
“Well, then you’ve come to the wrong place,” Morgana replies with a little quirk of her mouth, an almost smile. “Come on, Gwen, feasting to be had.” She disappears out the door.
She’s so quiet that he jumps when he feels Gwen’s fingers on his arm.
“Sorry.” She flushes, taking her hand back. “And it’s probably nothing, but I’ve seen your father eyeing the river a lot lately, wistfully. So, why don’t you get him some kind of watercraft?” she suggests softly.
“Like,” Arthur frowns concentrating, “. . . a boat? ” he says slowly, considering it.
“Like a boat.” Gwen’s eyes sparkle.
“GWEEEN!”
Arthur winces and Gwen ducks her head with a chuckle, “If you’ll excuse me, my lord. I’m needed,” she apologizes, before running from the chamber.
Standing by himself, Arthur allows a grin as he rubs his jaw.
Three months later, standing on the bank, the King laughs ecstatically as he looks from his present, to his son and back again. He claps Arthur firmly on the back.
“Best birthday, ever. You six, I want paddles in the water! ” His father cries, moving faster than Arthur’s seen him EVER move.
Arthur’s eyes find Gwen in the cluster of people around, standing between an uninterested Morgana and an apprehensive looking Merlin.
He inclines his head and she smiles.
Gwen has a nice smile.
_ _ _
“Whoa, wrong way! ” Arthur grabs Gwen’s shoulders as she tries to pass him.
“I need to get out there,” Gwen says, attempting to see past him. “Please, let me go, Sire.”
“Hmm . . . let you go die? I'm going to say NO.”
With a sigh, the handmaiden stops struggling and doesn’t quite glare at him, but it’s close. Her hands reach up to curl over his wrists. “Look, Merlin’s out there,” she informs him. “And he’s going to do something stupid and brave and I NEED to stop him.”
Arthur squints at her. “Merlin and brave. Gwen that’s an oxymoron.”
“Nevertheless, let me pass,” she demands, unamused.
“Too dangerous,” Arthur replies, shaking his head.
“You went out there!”
“I’ve had training for these sorts of things.”
Gwen mutters something about nobody having training for ‘these sorts of things’ inserting a few curses he didn’t know she knew. It takes him a great effort not to laugh.
“You can go back to the Hall and wait until I say you can leave.” He turns her bodily and starts pushing her back up the corridor. “I’ll find Merlin.”
“You don’t even know where to look!”
Arthur makes a face over her shoulder; she’s really not making it easy. “Then tell me, ” he orders. “And where’s Morgana? Why isn’t she stopping you from acting crazy?”
Gwen stops walking and leans back against him, stubbornly. “She’s helping Gaius and she understands.”
“Well, where’s your father?”
“Helping fix the wall that caved in,” she retorts.
Arthur’s eyebrows rise, as with that Gwen gives her body a sharp twist and slips away, taking off for the outside door again.
“Hey!” he chases after her, “Guinevere!”
They break into the open courtyard, he’s a dozen steps behind; she’s quicker than she looks, and moving a lot faster with the knowledge that he’s giving pursuit.
Shadows appear from overhead and Arthur looks up.
He sees Claws. Outstretched and sharp as they head for his face.
And next thing he knows he’s on the ground and Gwen’s gasping beside him, eyes scanning the sky.
“You really are an idiot you know that?” She wipes a hand over her brow. “Why didn’t you move, like a normal person? It’s like you want to die the way you carry on sometimes,” she grumbles.
He doesn’t have time to respond as she’s already climbing to her feet and tugging him up with a grunt.
“Right, first rule of running into danger; prepare to duck and fall and get bruises everywhere.” She takes his hand. “Now come on, Merlin said something about the guard tower.”
Arthur lets her drag him along, linking their fingers tightly.
“You like hearing ‘no’ about as much as Morgana,” he grins.
Gwen spares him a glance. “When it’s regarding people I care about, even less.”
“I’ll remember that.”
_ _ _
Arthur grunts as he’s forced onto his knees by a sound kick.
“You don’t need to do this, take the horses, take the money. It’s yours,” he bargains, his eyes drifting over the camp to the girls who are being forced to shackle every man in their travelling party. “Just let us go,” he shakes his head, “or just let the women go.”
“I don’t think I will,” the head bandit smiles. “Everything that was yours is mine now, regardless of your ‘generous’ offer.”
Arthur looks at the shackles on his wrists and grits his teeth. “Well, what do you want, then?”
“Roof over my head, someone to cook me meals, rub my feet, mend my clothes,” the man’s gaze wanders over to the girls and he turns back with a grin to Arthur, “warm my bed,” he adds, quirking his eyebrow, laughing mockingly as Arthur visibly tenses.
He sees Gwen reach Merlin, out of the corner of his eye; she pats his head comfortingly, before getting to work on shackling him.
“My father won’t stand for this,” Arthur hisses. The older man rolls his eyes and Arthur’s voice gains strength. “My father certainly won’t stand for any harm to come to ANY of us and he will hunt you down like a dog,” Arthur notifies the man with a sneer.
“My father this, my father that,” the man scoffs. “You keep telling yourself whatever makes you feel better, boy,” he bestows a little condescending nose wrinkle that makes Arthur’s blood boil. “But me and mine, and your two lovely lasses will be LONG GONE by the time any of Uther Pendragon’s men show up for a rescue.” He walks away, leaving Arthur to simmer.
Later, in the growing dark, Arthur sits despondently, and looks up when someone settles in front of him. Gwen. Her face is lightly smeared with dirt and her hair is free and running down one shoulder.
“Are you okay?” she asks, setting a bowl of stew on the log behind him.
“Food,” Arthur mutters, looking at the bowl in disgust and amends his statement. “Questionable looking food.”
“I made that,” Gwen grins. “BUT I won’t take offense, I know you’re used to better,” her grin widens as he opens his mouth to correct himself. “Just tell me if you’re okay,” she says, reaching into her riding boot.
Gwen has her back facing the camp, so no one sitting around the campfire can see the small piece of wire she produces. Arthur’s eyes widen.
“I’m fine. Are you and Morgana okay? They haven’t-”
Gwen shakes her head and begins to work on his shackles. “We are fantastic. No one dared to try anything.”
“And Merlin?” he asks, grudgingly. “I suppose he’s moping somewhere?”
At that Gwen laughs, the metal wire making little clicking noises within the shackles. “Merlin is in good spirits, just happy to have the use of his arms and legs back. He’s helping Morgana free the rest.”
“But what about-” he peers around her, to the camp, where he can clearly see six or seven men sitting around it.
“Word of advice, if you have captives don’t let them make you stew,” Gwen murmurs, beaming with triumph when his shackles unlock, she removes them.
She produces a small pocketknife from somewhere and hands it to him. “They didn’t search us quiet as thoroughly as they searched you lot,” she tilts her head, looking alarmingly like Merlin, “which is slightly insulting when you think about it,” she muses.
He shakes his head. “You’d like to be taken more seriously as a hazard?”
“Too much to ask,” She spreads her hands, innocently. "to have a little equality in the Hostage/Hostage taker relationship?" Arthur rolls his eyes.
He starts cutting the rope binding his legs, unable to stop the frown on his face. “Okay, I have to ask, what on earth did you do to the stew?”
Gwen stands, looking back at the camp with a sigh. “Sedative. Gaius has been teaching Merlin and I medicinal herbs and roots. It wasn’t hard to find a mushroom that would do the trick. I doubt any of them can stand up without falling over. How’s that for not being a threat?”
She dusts off her hands and holds them out for him to take. “Anything you want to say?”
Arthur accepts her help and stands, and then leans into her. “Oooh god,” he groans.
“What?” Gwen steps closer, concerned. “Is it your ribs? You took quite a beating in the ambush.”
Arthur shakes his head. “Nah, my leg’s gone to sleep.”
He’s really not expecting it when Gwen pushes him over. But he laughs.
_ _ _
“What’s going on here then?”
The three of them are lying on their backs in the sunlight, Gwen’s the only one who opens her eyes when he steps further onto the battlements.
“Oh, go away,” Morgana sighs, fluttering a hand in his direction, her other draped across her stomach. “We’re escaping Camelot.”
“The easy way,” Merlin adds.
“You’d know,” Morgana drones.
Arthur crinkles his nose, moving to stand at their feet. Merlin’s leg twitches, but like Morgana he keeps his eyes shut. Gwen looks at him and yawns, widely.
“What are you doing up here?” she asks, lazily, her eyes fluttering shut again. “What happened to court?”
“Cancelled, father wanted to talk more to the counsel before he made any decisions.”
“But shouldn’t you be involved in that?” Merlin murmurs, “being next in line and all.”
“ONLY in line,” Morgana corrects, bitterly. Arthur moves into her light, casting her in shadow and her eyes pop open. “Arthur!”
“I begged off,” Arthur replies. “Thought I’d see where you lot had disappeared to.”
“It was so peaceful,” Merlin moans softly, turning his head on the stone to look at Gwen.
“And Morgana, we’ve gone over this. You can’t rule the Kingdom, because for one,” Arthur grins, “you would terrible and of course TWO you’re not actually part of the bloodline.”
“It was, Merlin,” Gwen agrees sadly, and opens her eyes again. "But all good things must come to an end."
“Just get out of my sun,” Morgana commands, licking her bottom lip testily. “Why don’t you go find a knight to berate? I think I saw a monster by the city limits, why don’t you go check it out? Right, Merlin?”
“Oh,” Merlin murmurs like he just remembered. “Yeah, with talons-”
“The size of cart wheels,” Morgana says brightly. "And a horn in the middle of it's face."
“And a green beak,” Merlin finishes. “I meant to tell you about that. We’re all in terrible danger,” he adds flatly.
Arthur puts his hands on his hips. “If you want me to leave, you can just say so.”
“I did say so!” Morgana exclaims, indignant.
“Why don’t you join us?” Gwen suggests kindly, and Morgana let out a moan.
“Because Arthur doesn’t do quiet . . . unless he’s sulking, Gwen. He’s disruptive by nature.”
“I can be quiet,” Arthur lies down on Morgana’s other side, bringing his hands to his chest. “Sooooo, what do we do exactly?”
Morgana swats at him, but closes her eyes. “Just shut up and don’t move. I’m going to try and forget your here,” she mutters. “Gwen?” she says, expectantly.
Gwen closes her eyes and turns to face the sky again. “And then, suddenly, out of nowhere, the three heroes were joined by another,” Gwen narrates softly.
Arthur grins to himself.
“Another who was not as fantastically dressed as the heroes,” Merlin cut in. “In fact he was in rags.”
“And the heroes thought he was just some crazy old lecher and tried to steer their horses around the idiot standing and waving in the middle of the road, anxious to get on with their quest.”
Gwen giggles and elbows Morgana, “But really he was in disguise,” she takes over. “Because he was a Prince who had been driven out from his Kingdom-”
“Because he smelled,” Merlin says unexpectedly, causing both girls’ to laugh and Arthur’s eyes to fly open.
“Merlin-”
“Arthur, it’s the game,” Gwen interrupts softly. “We call it - ‘Wish we weren’t here’. If you WANT the story to go in another direction you have to make it.”
Arthur closes his eyes again. “Fine. The Prince was driven out of the Kingdom because he smelled . . . so good that girls were always throwing themselves at him. In fact it got so bad that he had to carry a stick to beat them off with-”
The other three groan loudly, cutting him off.
“This is a terrible chapter in the epic tale of the heroes,” Merlin laments as dramatically as he can, without moving.
“Indeed.”
"I actually feel a little sick."
"As do I. He's cursed us with his horrible storytelling."
“Just let him have his go,” Gwen scolds gently. “He’ll get better with practice.”
“Even Gwen dislikes your imagination,” Morgana turns her head to mutter resentfully. “Why don’t you go ruin someone else’s fun?”
Merlin scowls at the sky. “Can somebody do something quick? I’m starting to think again.”
“We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Gwen laughs. "Imagine the trail of destruction from such an occurrence."
"It would be epic," Morgana consents, quickly. "In that it would be a first!"
"Oi!"
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[Title's based on - 'Momentary Thing' by Something Happens]
My first run at this prompt is - 'Jokes on YOU' - which is shorter and IDK . . . one of these is better but I'm too tired to work out which XD
I liked the idea of them ficting. LOL Probably because I do so much of it.
Hmm . . . I think I do like THIS one better.
Author: mustbethursday3
Rating: G
Word count: Lets just say 3000+ and call it a day.
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Guinevere with a dash of Gwen/Merlin, Arthur/Gwen/Morgana, Merlin/Gwen/Morgana and OT4ness.
Spoilers: None. Coz it's an AU prequel.
Disclaimer: I don't own Merlin. I don't know why. I don't really question it.
Summary: Arthur's aware of Gwen, but she's kinda too busy having fun to notice him much back XD
Prompt(s): Written for camelot_love's Spring Fling, #55 Arthur never really notices servants... but the 5 (or whatever #) times he actually noticed Gwen - prompted by dfriendly.
Author’s notes: Dear dfriendly,
Your prompt hates me. We scuffled and fought, it chased my plot bunnies. Then CAUGHT them, boxed them up and tried to mail them to Yugoslavia . . . but I grabbed a broom and beat it around the head until it let go and ran to cower somewhere. This is the best the plot bunnies could do in their shaken condition. One of them is missing an ear, I call him flopsy
Sincerely, Thursday.
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
Arthur notices the girl because she’s laughing.
He lets his eyes wander over her, as she leans back on the cart she’s sitting on, a wave of curls falling down to swing behind her.
“Don’t,” she says warningly, though her smile betrays her. She’s goading as she watches the darkhaired boy standing before her lift the bucket in his arms questioningly. “You dare…”
Merlin’s eyes twinkle evilly and he hefts the bucket a little higher up on his chest, “You were just complaining about it being too hot,” he reminds. “And as your friend I assumed it was my duty,” he raises his eyebrows, “nay, my right, to cool you down.”
The girl stretches out one long, burnt honey coloured leg to rest a bare foot against his chest, “I mean it, Merlin,” she maintains, this time with a little apprehensive scan around them as if she means to run. “Put the bucket down.”
“Make me an offer.”
“How about I let you live,” the girl smiles, leaning back on her forearms, her foot flexing against Merlin’s tunic.
“You’d never kill me, Gwen,” Merlin argues, testing the weight of the bucket considerately. “Don’t waste my time with your empty threats.”
Gwen’s brown eyes shine dangerously, “Only because Morgana would do a much better job of it,” she observes lightly. Wiggling her toes as Merlin’s mouth twists frustratedly. “She just needs an excuse.”
Arthur stands there a little longer as the two stare at each other, the three of them waiting for something to change. But then the knight master is barking at him to hurry up, and he turns away, hurrying off to practice.
Arthur has to force himself not to turn around when he hears an outraged shriek back in the courtyard, followed by loud manic laughter.
_ _ _
He tries not to shiver, as deft fingers brush through his hair searchingly, her hot breath is landing square on the back of his neck . . . which he has to admit acts as a rather a nice distraction from the pounding of his skull.
“What’s the damage?” he asks gruffly.
Kneeling behind the sitting Prince, flagstones cool against her knees, Gwen smiles at the his impatience. “I think you’ll live, my lord.” She examines the cut closely and bites her lip. “You should really let Gaius have a look at this.”
“No. Just clean it up and I’ll be right.”
“He doesn’t want anyone to know a girl hurt him,” Morgana says, shrewdly, catching Gwen’s eye. “His reputation would be left in tatters,” she continues contemptuously.
“That’s not it AT ALL!” Arthur protests, pretending that one of them is likely to believe him. Behind him, Gwen makes an unhappy sound.
“My lord, I really wish you’d reconsider.”
“You’re doing well,” Arthur assures her. “I feel better already.”
Gwen’s eyes move to Morgana’s.
“Arthur’s head is hard as rock, Gwen.” Morgana mock parries with the air, “We could use it as a battering ram. So, you can stop with the look.”
“My lady-”
“And,” Morgana does a light spin, “stop thinking so loud, I can hear you from here.”
Gwen sighs resignedly, reaching down for the cloth and ointment she’s brought with her. “Sorry my lady, but I forget,” she offers her mistress a puzzled frown, “ . . . how did you phrase your apology, again? I must have missed it.”
Arthur bites the inside of his cheek at the horror that crosses the Ward’s face.
“Apology?” Morgana stops sweeping her sword through the air.
Arthur sits up straighter to give Gwen better access as she begins gently tending to the wound. “Are you standing up for me?” he whispers.
“Definitely not,” Gwen whispers back.
“I expect she means for conking me on the head and attempting to open my head up like a blasted nut,” he says, louder, wincing slightly as the cloth touches raw skin.
Morgana pulls a face. “Well, I refuse to apologise for doing something so many others can only DREAM of.”
Gwen gives her a look.
“And you are a nut,” Morgana simpers, sweetly and continues facing her invisible opponent. “Gwen come on, pick up his sword, I wanna show Arthur how it’s done.”
_ _ _
“What do you want?” Morgana asks suspiciously when he walks into her chamber. “If you’re here to tell me to stay away from Percival I’ve already learnt my lesson. Twice.” She distends her neck as she touches the jewels at her throat. “I don’t know about the red, it’s too much red,” she laments with a pout. “Gwen.”
Her handmaiden appears from out of nowhere and crosses to her side, handing over a plain golden chain. “My lady, you look good in everything,” she assures, with incontestable sincerity.
Morgana smiles at her in the mirror, and Arthur notices that it’s not the kind of smile she directs at anyone else. For this girl, it’s warm and gracious. “Thank you, Gwen.” She fastens the pendant around her neck, before admiring herself in the mirror as Gwen takes the rejected necklace and promptly tucks it back into Morgana’s jewellery box.
“My lord,” Gwen inclines her head to him as she hurries over to get her lady’s cloak.
“Guinevere,” Arthur acknowledges, forced - as has become habitual of late - to drag himself from thoughts of laughter and curls. “You look . . . busy.”
“Oh, Arthur why are you still darkening my doorway?” Morgana groans, spinning around on her stool to glare at him.
“Well, if you’d let me get a word in.”
Morgana stands, hands running down to smooth nonexistent creases in her crimson gown. “I promise you, I am BORED of your knights. They’re all lunk heads, only interested in one thing.”
Arthur rolls his eyes, he knows his men and he knows Morgana. If anyone’s a victim in their dealings its not going to be her.
“Combat,” Gwen supplies, briskly returning to throw a silk cloak around Morgana’s shoulders, tying it on in a quick practiced motion.
“Exactly!” Morgana crows. “See, Gwen gets it. Why can’t everyone be more like Gwen?”
Gwen looks at him pityingly. “Did you want me to find Merlin for you?”
“He always turns up,” Morgana scoffs. “Arthur’s more liable to be here to ask you to lose Merlin somewhere.”
Arthur hides a smile at the face Gwen makes in response; it’s part amusement and part offense, though he’s not sure on whose behalf she’s feeling it.
He nods to the two young women looking at him expectantly. “Actually, I was wondering if you had any thoughts on what to get father for his birthday.”
Morgana starts for the door. “A heart? No, I know BLINKERS! I'll speak to the stablehands immediately.”
“Morgaaaaana,” Arthur sighs, turning as she passes him. “I need help, not mockery.”
“Well, then you’ve come to the wrong place,” Morgana replies with a little quirk of her mouth, an almost smile. “Come on, Gwen, feasting to be had.” She disappears out the door.
She’s so quiet that he jumps when he feels Gwen’s fingers on his arm.
“Sorry.” She flushes, taking her hand back. “And it’s probably nothing, but I’ve seen your father eyeing the river a lot lately, wistfully. So, why don’t you get him some kind of watercraft?” she suggests softly.
“Like,” Arthur frowns concentrating, “. . . a boat? ” he says slowly, considering it.
“Like a boat.” Gwen’s eyes sparkle.
“GWEEEN!”
Arthur winces and Gwen ducks her head with a chuckle, “If you’ll excuse me, my lord. I’m needed,” she apologizes, before running from the chamber.
Standing by himself, Arthur allows a grin as he rubs his jaw.
Three months later, standing on the bank, the King laughs ecstatically as he looks from his present, to his son and back again. He claps Arthur firmly on the back.
“Best birthday, ever. You six, I want paddles in the water! ” His father cries, moving faster than Arthur’s seen him EVER move.
Arthur’s eyes find Gwen in the cluster of people around, standing between an uninterested Morgana and an apprehensive looking Merlin.
He inclines his head and she smiles.
Gwen has a nice smile.
_ _ _
“Whoa, wrong way! ” Arthur grabs Gwen’s shoulders as she tries to pass him.
“I need to get out there,” Gwen says, attempting to see past him. “Please, let me go, Sire.”
“Hmm . . . let you go die? I'm going to say NO.”
With a sigh, the handmaiden stops struggling and doesn’t quite glare at him, but it’s close. Her hands reach up to curl over his wrists. “Look, Merlin’s out there,” she informs him. “And he’s going to do something stupid and brave and I NEED to stop him.”
Arthur squints at her. “Merlin and brave. Gwen that’s an oxymoron.”
“Nevertheless, let me pass,” she demands, unamused.
“Too dangerous,” Arthur replies, shaking his head.
“You went out there!”
“I’ve had training for these sorts of things.”
Gwen mutters something about nobody having training for ‘these sorts of things’ inserting a few curses he didn’t know she knew. It takes him a great effort not to laugh.
“You can go back to the Hall and wait until I say you can leave.” He turns her bodily and starts pushing her back up the corridor. “I’ll find Merlin.”
“You don’t even know where to look!”
Arthur makes a face over her shoulder; she’s really not making it easy. “Then tell me, ” he orders. “And where’s Morgana? Why isn’t she stopping you from acting crazy?”
Gwen stops walking and leans back against him, stubbornly. “She’s helping Gaius and she understands.”
“Well, where’s your father?”
“Helping fix the wall that caved in,” she retorts.
Arthur’s eyebrows rise, as with that Gwen gives her body a sharp twist and slips away, taking off for the outside door again.
“Hey!” he chases after her, “Guinevere!”
They break into the open courtyard, he’s a dozen steps behind; she’s quicker than she looks, and moving a lot faster with the knowledge that he’s giving pursuit.
Shadows appear from overhead and Arthur looks up.
He sees Claws. Outstretched and sharp as they head for his face.
And next thing he knows he’s on the ground and Gwen’s gasping beside him, eyes scanning the sky.
“You really are an idiot you know that?” She wipes a hand over her brow. “Why didn’t you move, like a normal person? It’s like you want to die the way you carry on sometimes,” she grumbles.
He doesn’t have time to respond as she’s already climbing to her feet and tugging him up with a grunt.
“Right, first rule of running into danger; prepare to duck and fall and get bruises everywhere.” She takes his hand. “Now come on, Merlin said something about the guard tower.”
Arthur lets her drag him along, linking their fingers tightly.
“You like hearing ‘no’ about as much as Morgana,” he grins.
Gwen spares him a glance. “When it’s regarding people I care about, even less.”
“I’ll remember that.”
_ _ _
Arthur grunts as he’s forced onto his knees by a sound kick.
“You don’t need to do this, take the horses, take the money. It’s yours,” he bargains, his eyes drifting over the camp to the girls who are being forced to shackle every man in their travelling party. “Just let us go,” he shakes his head, “or just let the women go.”
“I don’t think I will,” the head bandit smiles. “Everything that was yours is mine now, regardless of your ‘generous’ offer.”
Arthur looks at the shackles on his wrists and grits his teeth. “Well, what do you want, then?”
“Roof over my head, someone to cook me meals, rub my feet, mend my clothes,” the man’s gaze wanders over to the girls and he turns back with a grin to Arthur, “warm my bed,” he adds, quirking his eyebrow, laughing mockingly as Arthur visibly tenses.
He sees Gwen reach Merlin, out of the corner of his eye; she pats his head comfortingly, before getting to work on shackling him.
“My father won’t stand for this,” Arthur hisses. The older man rolls his eyes and Arthur’s voice gains strength. “My father certainly won’t stand for any harm to come to ANY of us and he will hunt you down like a dog,” Arthur notifies the man with a sneer.
“My father this, my father that,” the man scoffs. “You keep telling yourself whatever makes you feel better, boy,” he bestows a little condescending nose wrinkle that makes Arthur’s blood boil. “But me and mine, and your two lovely lasses will be LONG GONE by the time any of Uther Pendragon’s men show up for a rescue.” He walks away, leaving Arthur to simmer.
Later, in the growing dark, Arthur sits despondently, and looks up when someone settles in front of him. Gwen. Her face is lightly smeared with dirt and her hair is free and running down one shoulder.
“Are you okay?” she asks, setting a bowl of stew on the log behind him.
“Food,” Arthur mutters, looking at the bowl in disgust and amends his statement. “Questionable looking food.”
“I made that,” Gwen grins. “BUT I won’t take offense, I know you’re used to better,” her grin widens as he opens his mouth to correct himself. “Just tell me if you’re okay,” she says, reaching into her riding boot.
Gwen has her back facing the camp, so no one sitting around the campfire can see the small piece of wire she produces. Arthur’s eyes widen.
“I’m fine. Are you and Morgana okay? They haven’t-”
Gwen shakes her head and begins to work on his shackles. “We are fantastic. No one dared to try anything.”
“And Merlin?” he asks, grudgingly. “I suppose he’s moping somewhere?”
At that Gwen laughs, the metal wire making little clicking noises within the shackles. “Merlin is in good spirits, just happy to have the use of his arms and legs back. He’s helping Morgana free the rest.”
“But what about-” he peers around her, to the camp, where he can clearly see six or seven men sitting around it.
“Word of advice, if you have captives don’t let them make you stew,” Gwen murmurs, beaming with triumph when his shackles unlock, she removes them.
She produces a small pocketknife from somewhere and hands it to him. “They didn’t search us quiet as thoroughly as they searched you lot,” she tilts her head, looking alarmingly like Merlin, “which is slightly insulting when you think about it,” she muses.
He shakes his head. “You’d like to be taken more seriously as a hazard?”
“Too much to ask,” She spreads her hands, innocently. "to have a little equality in the Hostage/Hostage taker relationship?" Arthur rolls his eyes.
He starts cutting the rope binding his legs, unable to stop the frown on his face. “Okay, I have to ask, what on earth did you do to the stew?”
Gwen stands, looking back at the camp with a sigh. “Sedative. Gaius has been teaching Merlin and I medicinal herbs and roots. It wasn’t hard to find a mushroom that would do the trick. I doubt any of them can stand up without falling over. How’s that for not being a threat?”
She dusts off her hands and holds them out for him to take. “Anything you want to say?”
Arthur accepts her help and stands, and then leans into her. “Oooh god,” he groans.
“What?” Gwen steps closer, concerned. “Is it your ribs? You took quite a beating in the ambush.”
Arthur shakes his head. “Nah, my leg’s gone to sleep.”
He’s really not expecting it when Gwen pushes him over. But he laughs.
_ _ _
“What’s going on here then?”
The three of them are lying on their backs in the sunlight, Gwen’s the only one who opens her eyes when he steps further onto the battlements.
“Oh, go away,” Morgana sighs, fluttering a hand in his direction, her other draped across her stomach. “We’re escaping Camelot.”
“The easy way,” Merlin adds.
“You’d know,” Morgana drones.
Arthur crinkles his nose, moving to stand at their feet. Merlin’s leg twitches, but like Morgana he keeps his eyes shut. Gwen looks at him and yawns, widely.
“What are you doing up here?” she asks, lazily, her eyes fluttering shut again. “What happened to court?”
“Cancelled, father wanted to talk more to the counsel before he made any decisions.”
“But shouldn’t you be involved in that?” Merlin murmurs, “being next in line and all.”
“ONLY in line,” Morgana corrects, bitterly. Arthur moves into her light, casting her in shadow and her eyes pop open. “Arthur!”
“I begged off,” Arthur replies. “Thought I’d see where you lot had disappeared to.”
“It was so peaceful,” Merlin moans softly, turning his head on the stone to look at Gwen.
“And Morgana, we’ve gone over this. You can’t rule the Kingdom, because for one,” Arthur grins, “you would terrible and of course TWO you’re not actually part of the bloodline.”
“It was, Merlin,” Gwen agrees sadly, and opens her eyes again. "But all good things must come to an end."
“Just get out of my sun,” Morgana commands, licking her bottom lip testily. “Why don’t you go find a knight to berate? I think I saw a monster by the city limits, why don’t you go check it out? Right, Merlin?”
“Oh,” Merlin murmurs like he just remembered. “Yeah, with talons-”
“The size of cart wheels,” Morgana says brightly. "And a horn in the middle of it's face."
“And a green beak,” Merlin finishes. “I meant to tell you about that. We’re all in terrible danger,” he adds flatly.
Arthur puts his hands on his hips. “If you want me to leave, you can just say so.”
“I did say so!” Morgana exclaims, indignant.
“Why don’t you join us?” Gwen suggests kindly, and Morgana let out a moan.
“Because Arthur doesn’t do quiet . . . unless he’s sulking, Gwen. He’s disruptive by nature.”
“I can be quiet,” Arthur lies down on Morgana’s other side, bringing his hands to his chest. “Sooooo, what do we do exactly?”
Morgana swats at him, but closes her eyes. “Just shut up and don’t move. I’m going to try and forget your here,” she mutters. “Gwen?” she says, expectantly.
Gwen closes her eyes and turns to face the sky again. “And then, suddenly, out of nowhere, the three heroes were joined by another,” Gwen narrates softly.
Arthur grins to himself.
“Another who was not as fantastically dressed as the heroes,” Merlin cut in. “In fact he was in rags.”
“And the heroes thought he was just some crazy old lecher and tried to steer their horses around the idiot standing and waving in the middle of the road, anxious to get on with their quest.”
Gwen giggles and elbows Morgana, “But really he was in disguise,” she takes over. “Because he was a Prince who had been driven out from his Kingdom-”
“Because he smelled,” Merlin says unexpectedly, causing both girls’ to laugh and Arthur’s eyes to fly open.
“Merlin-”
“Arthur, it’s the game,” Gwen interrupts softly. “We call it - ‘Wish we weren’t here’. If you WANT the story to go in another direction you have to make it.”
Arthur closes his eyes again. “Fine. The Prince was driven out of the Kingdom because he smelled . . . so good that girls were always throwing themselves at him. In fact it got so bad that he had to carry a stick to beat them off with-”
The other three groan loudly, cutting him off.
“This is a terrible chapter in the epic tale of the heroes,” Merlin laments as dramatically as he can, without moving.
“Indeed.”
"I actually feel a little sick."
"As do I. He's cursed us with his horrible storytelling."
“Just let him have his go,” Gwen scolds gently. “He’ll get better with practice.”
“Even Gwen dislikes your imagination,” Morgana turns her head to mutter resentfully. “Why don’t you go ruin someone else’s fun?”
Merlin scowls at the sky. “Can somebody do something quick? I’m starting to think again.”
“We wouldn’t want that now, would we?” Gwen laughs. "Imagine the trail of destruction from such an occurrence."
"It would be epic," Morgana consents, quickly. "In that it would be a first!"
"Oi!"
_ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _ _
[Title's based on - 'Momentary Thing' by Something Happens]
My first run at this prompt is - 'Jokes on YOU' - which is shorter and IDK . . . one of these is better but I'm too tired to work out which XD
I liked the idea of them ficting. LOL Probably because I do so much of it.
Hmm . . . I think I do like THIS one better.