Fic: Awakening; Arthur/Gwen; 1/1.
Title: Awakening
Author: Helen shootingstars88
Characters/Pairing: Gwen. Arthur/Gwen.
Summary: A post-ep for 2x07. Gwen worries, and wonders why.
Author's Note: I'm not exactly sure about this to be honest, but I wanted to write some Gwen!POV and this is what appeared. I'm of the opinion that Gwen isn't exactly aware of having feelings for Arthur because she's too aware of the difference in their stations. In this, she sort of becomes aware when she thinks she's said too much and pushed him away. I would have liked to take a bit more time with this but I'm working all week and I wanted to get it up before Saturday. I'm rambling, anyway the point is this is me trying to get a handle on Gwen. With some UST for funsies.
~
A strange quiet settled over Camelot as the news spread that the Witch Finder was dead.
The inhabitants went back to their lives and a wave of silent relief filtered through the castle, as though a storm had darkened the sky for days but passed by without a single clap of thunder.
The King returned to his chambers, refusing all company, to dwell on the deceptions of a sorcerer who had come so close to robbing him of an old friend.
Morgana returned to her bed, for the sleep that had alluded her all the nights that the Witch Finder was in the Castle.
Merlin and Gwen half-carried Gaius back to his chambers, supporting the old man’s weight between them.
And Arthur Pendragon watched his men take down the pyre built for an innocent man.
Despite Gwen’s protests, Merlin refused all offers of help and tended to Gaius’ wounds without a word. Gwen caught him staring at his own unmarked skin as he worked and knew that he was wishing every scratch he bathed had been inflicted on his own body.
Gwen flitted silently about the room, rearranging the mess as though replacing all the pages in their books could erase the damage done. She was grateful for the work, methodical and repetitive, almost enough to distract her from the twinge of unease that fluttered in her stomach every time she thought of her encounter with Arthur that morning.
It was necessary, she reminded herself as she cleared away the shattered glass on the workbenches, a desperate solution to a desperate situation, entirely understandable. And yet she could not quite banish the thought that perhaps this time, finally, she had said too much. Worse still, she could not ignore that it bothered her, much more than she would ever admit, to think that he might be angry with her.
She tried to push the thoughts aside, pouring all her attention into reordering the life that lay in pieces all around her. She was careful not to think of her own life, thrown into disarray from the moment she let Arthur hide in her quarters during the tournament.
When Gaius was finally resting she abandoned her cleaning and went to his side, where Merlin sat on a hard stool watching the rise and fall of Gaius’ chest with wide over-bright eyes.
“He’ll be all right Merlin. He just needs rest,” she said quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder.
“I know,” Merlin replied and Gwen pretended not to hear the catch in his voice. “Thanks for helping me Gwen,” he said softly, reaching up to grasp the hand that rested on his shoulder for a moment.
Gwen gave his fingers a quick squeeze and released his hand, turning to leave them alone. Before she could reach the door it swung open to reveal Arthur, who froze in the doorway.
“Gwen!” he exclaimed in surprise, making no move to enter the room.
He stared at her intently for a moment, his bright eyes serious, his jaw tight.
Suddenly, all the thoughts she’d tried to suppress broke free and raced through her mind until she was quite sure that Arthur was furious with her and quite angry with herself for being so unreasonably upset by that fact.
“Hush,” she managed to whisper, remembering where she was and turning back to glance at Gaius’ sleeping form. “Gaius is resting.”
“Sorry,” Arthur said, his voice much softer. “I came to see how he was.”
His eyes drifted over to the sleeping physician who had treated every cut, scrape and cold since Arthur was born and Gwen saw a surprisingly tender affection in his gaze. She looked away, blinking furiously as unexpected tears swam in front of her eyes.
“Merlin?” Arthur said softly, padding silently over to where his servant sat. “How is he?”
“Better, I think,” Merlin said, not looking away from Gaius’ face as he addressed Arthur. “He needs rest, that’s all.”
“Of course,” Arthur agreed bracingly, turning to leave.
Gwen carefully studied the floor, unwilling to meet Arthur’s gaze. He passed her swiftly without a word and had almost reached the door when Merlin spoke again, halting his master’s steps.
“Thank you Arthur,” he said quietly, his voice tight with suppressed emotion.
“Don’t thank me,” Arthur replied, uncharacteristically grave. “You never gave up on him, you saved him. I did nothing.”
Gwen lifted her head at his words, unable to resist a glance in his direction. Arthur was looking back at Merlin, his face pulled into a frown, his eyes unreadable.
“Get some rest Merlin,” he added sternly, the ends of his lips suddenly quirking upwards into a half-smile. “You look terrible.”
Merlin gave a weak laugh and Arthur turned away from him, back towards the door. Gwen moved to look away but his eyes caught hers for a long moment. He watched her sadly, his blue eyes pensive, before dropping her gaze and leaving without another word.
Gwen watched the door shut behind him and could not suppress the feeling that something had just ended between them, something that had never really begun. She had gone too far and now whatever was between them, the fragile web they both pretended did not exist, that had been so slowly, so carefully rebuilt since Lancelot’s departure, had finally stretched too far and snapped, leaving only the remnants of a connection.
Gwen watched Gaius sleeping, blinking back hot tears that came from nowhere. Merlin, intent on watching Gaius, did not notice as they escaped her eyes and raced down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, furious at her own foolishness. Only now, when it was too late and she had stepped too far above her station and lost Arthur’s good opinion forever, did she realise just how much it had meant to her to have it.
When the sudden rush of tears had subsided, Gwen excused herself from Merlin and Gaius’ chambers, returning to her chores. She moved stiffly through the motions of her day, cleaning and fetching and carrying, lost in her thoughts.
She would not regret her words, she was quite sure of that. They had been a little cruel perhaps, and far above what a servant should say to her prince, but completely necessary. Her words had been enough to save Gaius and that knowledge should have been enough for her. Yet the image of Arthur’s face kept intruding, eyes wide, shocked and horrified as she called him out on things she did not even blame him for, making her wish things had gone differently.
With Morgana sleeping for most of the day, Gwen picked up Merlin’s duties as much as she could, avoiding Arthur’s chambers entirely. She did not want to see him for fear that the empty look of disappointment would flash in his eyes again and she would know for sure that her words had changed him, that he was no longer the man she thought he was, the prince ready to listen to a servant. It was this thought, more than anything, that troubled Gwen’s mind as she wandered through the castle, working mindlessly. She hated to think she had hurt him, but more than anything she hated to think that her words had hit so hard that he would not seek her opinion again, not entertain her counsel. She did not let herself dwell on why it had come to mean everything to her to have the ear of Arthur Pendragon, if she needed it.
She almost made it through the day without seeing him again, but could not ignore the plate of food left waiting to be taken to his chambers from the kitchens after the other servants had left for their beds. She picked it up in unsteady hands and headed for his chambers, trying to ignore the anticipation curling in her stomach at the thought of seeing him.
She knocked lightly and hated that her heart raced the second his voice reached her ears, calling out, “Come in.”
Gwen pushed the door open and headed straight for the table, forcing herself not to look sideways to see where Arthur stood.
“Guinevere,” he said, surprise colouring his tone again.
“I”m sorry it’s late my Lord, but Merlin is with Gaius and I was taking some food to Morgana, and nobody picked your meal up,” Gwen rattled off excuses too quickly, nervous in his presence.
“It’s fine,” Arthur dismissed her excuses with a wave of his hand that Gwen, still intent on not looking at him only saw as a flash in her periphery.
She placed the food down and found herself with no more excuses not to look at him. Slowly, she lifted her head, dreading what she would see in his gaze. Her eyes met his and he did not break the connection, staring at with a strangely serious expression, his eyes shadowed and sad. He looked distant and troubled and Gwen found herself thinking she’d say anything to chase that look out of his eyes.
For the most part, with anyone besides Morgana, Gwen was a well trained servant who spoke only when spoken to and did not give unsolicited advice. And yet something about Arthur Pendragon made her speak out when nobody else would, to say things that nobody else dared. It was a peculiar habit but one that she could not fight, even though her loose tongue had caused the very problem she now tried to fix.
“I’m sorry Arthur,” she blurted suddenly, turning away from the table and flitting around his room, tidying as she went. “I spoke out of turn to you this morning.”
“Gwen,” Arthur interrupted, raising both hands, palms upward in a placating gesture.
She ignored him, straightening the papers on his desk and continuing to speak. It was easier if she did not look at him and did not pause for breath, “I was only trying to stop the execution, to say anything I could to make you act but I was unspeakably rude and I quite understand if you -
“Guinevere.”
“-never listen to another word I say to you. I just want you to know that I’m proud of what you did today, even though I have no right to feel proud of you because you’re Prince Arthur and I’m just a servant -”
“Guinevere.”
“ - and I do not blame you for my father’s death and I’m sorry if I made you think that I did and -”
“Guinevere! Stop!”
Suddenly he was behind her, his chest pressing against her back as he reached around to grip her wrists, his grip gentle but firm, stilling her movement. She froze, dropping the books she’d been moving onto his desk and allowing him to raise her hands above her hand and spin her around until she was facing him.
She looked up at him, breathing heavily, very aware of his proximity. He was half-smiling at her and she hated the feeling of hope that swelled in her chest at his expression.
“I’m not angry with you,” he said, enunciating every word carefully.
“You’re not?” she said slowly, utterly confused. “But what I said to you, it was -”
“Necessary,” he finished the sentence for her, still not relaxing his gentle grip on her wrists. He was unbearably close, his whole body leaning towards her as her back rested against the tabletop. Gwen hoped he couldn’t feel her trembling.
“You’re not angry?” she repeated, still not believing it.
“Not with you,” he clarified, actually looking horrified at the suggestion. He finally released her hands and stepped away from her, head bowed. “I’m furious with myself.”
She followed him, closing the distance between them without thinking. “Why?”
“I almost let it happen! If it hadn’t been for you and Merlin, Gaius would be dead. I barely lifted a finger in his defence,” Arthur shook his head and Gwen suddenly understood the meaning behind the disappointment that clouded his eyes when he looked at her.
“That’s not true,” Gwen assured him earnestly. “When it mattered you stepped in and you believed in Merlin when he needed you to.”
Arthur sighed heavily and for a moment he looked much older than his years, like a King whose burdens were heavy and lonely. “Today, yes. But what about tomorrow? Every decision I make ... they all carry so much weight.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut. “And I won’t always be right Gwen. I won’t always save the right man.”
“But you will always try Arthur,” Gwen said, reaching up and pulling his hands away from his face, shocked at her own boldness. “That’s what matters.”
He allowed her to pull his hands away, looking down at her with a surprising vulnerability in his gaze. “Why do you have such faith in me?”
“Because you are a good man,” she answered immediately, automatically. “You listened to me today even though I’m just a servant.”
“You really thought I was angry with you?” he asked, looking as though such a thing was not possible.
“I really did,” Gwen admitted, feeling foolish.
“I like that you speak your mind to me Guinevere,” he told her, his voice surprisingly gentle. “It’s one of the things I - ” he hesitated, then blushed slightly and continued, “-admire about you. I might be angry some times, but I will always listen ... I hope.”
Gwen flushed at his words, an unexpected warmth flooding to her cheeks. “Good, because I seem to be incapable of holding my tongue.”
“I am very glad of that,” he said sincerely, leaning ever so slightly closer to her.
Gwen realised she was leaning in as well, moving without realising it until her face was close to his. Arthur stared at her for a long moment, a surprisingly powerful tenderness in his gaze. Gwen froze, hardly breathing, willing herself to look away from him but entirely incapable of breaking the contact. Even as he leant in closer, his eyes never leaving her face, Arthur seemed to be having an internal argument with himself, his jaw tight as though he was battling some impulse. After an agonising moment of suspense, his eyes dropped to her lips and he edged closer, achingly slowly.
Later, Gwen would have no idea how she did it, but somehow she broke away from his gaze, taking a step back to a safer distance. Arthur closed his eyes and let out a long frustrated sigh that made Gwen’s stomach flip. He made no move to approach her again, sensing that the moment was lost.
“I should go, let you eat, Sire,” she added the title more for herself than for him, a reminder of their stations to stop her doing something foolish.
Gwen thought she saw a flash of regret in Arthur’s eyes as he agreed. “Of course, I’m keeping you from your rest. Go home, relax.” He smiled broadly, proudly. “You saved Gaius’ life today.”
“With your help,” Gwen reminded him, heading for the door.
“Goodnight Guinevere,” he called as she closed the door.
“Good night my Lord,” was her reply.
“And Guinevere?” he added hastily.
“Yes Sire?” she paused half-way out of his door, turning around.
He looked down, embarrassed, before raising his gaze to look at her, genuine affection warm in his eyes. “You are not just a servant. Not to me.”
Gwen had no response to that but her lips quirked upward of their own accord to smile at Arthur. He grinned back tentatively as she slipped out of the door.
She hurried away from his chambers, pausing around the nearest corner to lean against the cool stone. Her head was swimming, the scent of him all around her. She shook her head, trying to clear away the foolish thoughts and went down the stairs, heading home.
Not until she was alone in her bed did Gwen allow the tears to fall.
She did not cry because Arthur had failed to kiss her. She cried because she knew that in that moment, as he leant in close, she had hoped that he would.
It all made sense now, all the things she had denied even to herself. Why she looked for him around every corner, why he could infuriate her like no other, why she remembered the precise look in his eyes as he’d leant down impulsively to brush his lips against hers, and why she had been so upset to think her words had hurt him. It was foolish and hopeless and a terrible, terrible, thing but Gwen knew her own heart now. She, the servant, was falling for the Prince.
She turned over, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and whispered aloud to herself, “Guinevere, you fool.”
~
Comments are love :)
Author: Helen shootingstars88
Characters/Pairing: Gwen. Arthur/Gwen.
Summary: A post-ep for 2x07. Gwen worries, and wonders why.
Author's Note: I'm not exactly sure about this to be honest, but I wanted to write some Gwen!POV and this is what appeared. I'm of the opinion that Gwen isn't exactly aware of having feelings for Arthur because she's too aware of the difference in their stations. In this, she sort of becomes aware when she thinks she's said too much and pushed him away. I would have liked to take a bit more time with this but I'm working all week and I wanted to get it up before Saturday. I'm rambling, anyway the point is this is me trying to get a handle on Gwen. With some UST for funsies.
~
A strange quiet settled over Camelot as the news spread that the Witch Finder was dead.
The inhabitants went back to their lives and a wave of silent relief filtered through the castle, as though a storm had darkened the sky for days but passed by without a single clap of thunder.
The King returned to his chambers, refusing all company, to dwell on the deceptions of a sorcerer who had come so close to robbing him of an old friend.
Morgana returned to her bed, for the sleep that had alluded her all the nights that the Witch Finder was in the Castle.
Merlin and Gwen half-carried Gaius back to his chambers, supporting the old man’s weight between them.
And Arthur Pendragon watched his men take down the pyre built for an innocent man.
Despite Gwen’s protests, Merlin refused all offers of help and tended to Gaius’ wounds without a word. Gwen caught him staring at his own unmarked skin as he worked and knew that he was wishing every scratch he bathed had been inflicted on his own body.
Gwen flitted silently about the room, rearranging the mess as though replacing all the pages in their books could erase the damage done. She was grateful for the work, methodical and repetitive, almost enough to distract her from the twinge of unease that fluttered in her stomach every time she thought of her encounter with Arthur that morning.
It was necessary, she reminded herself as she cleared away the shattered glass on the workbenches, a desperate solution to a desperate situation, entirely understandable. And yet she could not quite banish the thought that perhaps this time, finally, she had said too much. Worse still, she could not ignore that it bothered her, much more than she would ever admit, to think that he might be angry with her.
She tried to push the thoughts aside, pouring all her attention into reordering the life that lay in pieces all around her. She was careful not to think of her own life, thrown into disarray from the moment she let Arthur hide in her quarters during the tournament.
When Gaius was finally resting she abandoned her cleaning and went to his side, where Merlin sat on a hard stool watching the rise and fall of Gaius’ chest with wide over-bright eyes.
“He’ll be all right Merlin. He just needs rest,” she said quietly, laying a hand on his shoulder.
“I know,” Merlin replied and Gwen pretended not to hear the catch in his voice. “Thanks for helping me Gwen,” he said softly, reaching up to grasp the hand that rested on his shoulder for a moment.
Gwen gave his fingers a quick squeeze and released his hand, turning to leave them alone. Before she could reach the door it swung open to reveal Arthur, who froze in the doorway.
“Gwen!” he exclaimed in surprise, making no move to enter the room.
He stared at her intently for a moment, his bright eyes serious, his jaw tight.
Suddenly, all the thoughts she’d tried to suppress broke free and raced through her mind until she was quite sure that Arthur was furious with her and quite angry with herself for being so unreasonably upset by that fact.
“Hush,” she managed to whisper, remembering where she was and turning back to glance at Gaius’ sleeping form. “Gaius is resting.”
“Sorry,” Arthur said, his voice much softer. “I came to see how he was.”
His eyes drifted over to the sleeping physician who had treated every cut, scrape and cold since Arthur was born and Gwen saw a surprisingly tender affection in his gaze. She looked away, blinking furiously as unexpected tears swam in front of her eyes.
“Merlin?” Arthur said softly, padding silently over to where his servant sat. “How is he?”
“Better, I think,” Merlin said, not looking away from Gaius’ face as he addressed Arthur. “He needs rest, that’s all.”
“Of course,” Arthur agreed bracingly, turning to leave.
Gwen carefully studied the floor, unwilling to meet Arthur’s gaze. He passed her swiftly without a word and had almost reached the door when Merlin spoke again, halting his master’s steps.
“Thank you Arthur,” he said quietly, his voice tight with suppressed emotion.
“Don’t thank me,” Arthur replied, uncharacteristically grave. “You never gave up on him, you saved him. I did nothing.”
Gwen lifted her head at his words, unable to resist a glance in his direction. Arthur was looking back at Merlin, his face pulled into a frown, his eyes unreadable.
“Get some rest Merlin,” he added sternly, the ends of his lips suddenly quirking upwards into a half-smile. “You look terrible.”
Merlin gave a weak laugh and Arthur turned away from him, back towards the door. Gwen moved to look away but his eyes caught hers for a long moment. He watched her sadly, his blue eyes pensive, before dropping her gaze and leaving without another word.
Gwen watched the door shut behind him and could not suppress the feeling that something had just ended between them, something that had never really begun. She had gone too far and now whatever was between them, the fragile web they both pretended did not exist, that had been so slowly, so carefully rebuilt since Lancelot’s departure, had finally stretched too far and snapped, leaving only the remnants of a connection.
Gwen watched Gaius sleeping, blinking back hot tears that came from nowhere. Merlin, intent on watching Gaius, did not notice as they escaped her eyes and raced down her cheeks. She wiped them away with the back of her hand, furious at her own foolishness. Only now, when it was too late and she had stepped too far above her station and lost Arthur’s good opinion forever, did she realise just how much it had meant to her to have it.
When the sudden rush of tears had subsided, Gwen excused herself from Merlin and Gaius’ chambers, returning to her chores. She moved stiffly through the motions of her day, cleaning and fetching and carrying, lost in her thoughts.
She would not regret her words, she was quite sure of that. They had been a little cruel perhaps, and far above what a servant should say to her prince, but completely necessary. Her words had been enough to save Gaius and that knowledge should have been enough for her. Yet the image of Arthur’s face kept intruding, eyes wide, shocked and horrified as she called him out on things she did not even blame him for, making her wish things had gone differently.
With Morgana sleeping for most of the day, Gwen picked up Merlin’s duties as much as she could, avoiding Arthur’s chambers entirely. She did not want to see him for fear that the empty look of disappointment would flash in his eyes again and she would know for sure that her words had changed him, that he was no longer the man she thought he was, the prince ready to listen to a servant. It was this thought, more than anything, that troubled Gwen’s mind as she wandered through the castle, working mindlessly. She hated to think she had hurt him, but more than anything she hated to think that her words had hit so hard that he would not seek her opinion again, not entertain her counsel. She did not let herself dwell on why it had come to mean everything to her to have the ear of Arthur Pendragon, if she needed it.
She almost made it through the day without seeing him again, but could not ignore the plate of food left waiting to be taken to his chambers from the kitchens after the other servants had left for their beds. She picked it up in unsteady hands and headed for his chambers, trying to ignore the anticipation curling in her stomach at the thought of seeing him.
She knocked lightly and hated that her heart raced the second his voice reached her ears, calling out, “Come in.”
Gwen pushed the door open and headed straight for the table, forcing herself not to look sideways to see where Arthur stood.
“Guinevere,” he said, surprise colouring his tone again.
“I”m sorry it’s late my Lord, but Merlin is with Gaius and I was taking some food to Morgana, and nobody picked your meal up,” Gwen rattled off excuses too quickly, nervous in his presence.
“It’s fine,” Arthur dismissed her excuses with a wave of his hand that Gwen, still intent on not looking at him only saw as a flash in her periphery.
She placed the food down and found herself with no more excuses not to look at him. Slowly, she lifted her head, dreading what she would see in his gaze. Her eyes met his and he did not break the connection, staring at with a strangely serious expression, his eyes shadowed and sad. He looked distant and troubled and Gwen found herself thinking she’d say anything to chase that look out of his eyes.
For the most part, with anyone besides Morgana, Gwen was a well trained servant who spoke only when spoken to and did not give unsolicited advice. And yet something about Arthur Pendragon made her speak out when nobody else would, to say things that nobody else dared. It was a peculiar habit but one that she could not fight, even though her loose tongue had caused the very problem she now tried to fix.
“I’m sorry Arthur,” she blurted suddenly, turning away from the table and flitting around his room, tidying as she went. “I spoke out of turn to you this morning.”
“Gwen,” Arthur interrupted, raising both hands, palms upward in a placating gesture.
She ignored him, straightening the papers on his desk and continuing to speak. It was easier if she did not look at him and did not pause for breath, “I was only trying to stop the execution, to say anything I could to make you act but I was unspeakably rude and I quite understand if you -
“Guinevere.”
“-never listen to another word I say to you. I just want you to know that I’m proud of what you did today, even though I have no right to feel proud of you because you’re Prince Arthur and I’m just a servant -”
“Guinevere.”
“ - and I do not blame you for my father’s death and I’m sorry if I made you think that I did and -”
“Guinevere! Stop!”
Suddenly he was behind her, his chest pressing against her back as he reached around to grip her wrists, his grip gentle but firm, stilling her movement. She froze, dropping the books she’d been moving onto his desk and allowing him to raise her hands above her hand and spin her around until she was facing him.
She looked up at him, breathing heavily, very aware of his proximity. He was half-smiling at her and she hated the feeling of hope that swelled in her chest at his expression.
“I’m not angry with you,” he said, enunciating every word carefully.
“You’re not?” she said slowly, utterly confused. “But what I said to you, it was -”
“Necessary,” he finished the sentence for her, still not relaxing his gentle grip on her wrists. He was unbearably close, his whole body leaning towards her as her back rested against the tabletop. Gwen hoped he couldn’t feel her trembling.
“You’re not angry?” she repeated, still not believing it.
“Not with you,” he clarified, actually looking horrified at the suggestion. He finally released her hands and stepped away from her, head bowed. “I’m furious with myself.”
She followed him, closing the distance between them without thinking. “Why?”
“I almost let it happen! If it hadn’t been for you and Merlin, Gaius would be dead. I barely lifted a finger in his defence,” Arthur shook his head and Gwen suddenly understood the meaning behind the disappointment that clouded his eyes when he looked at her.
“That’s not true,” Gwen assured him earnestly. “When it mattered you stepped in and you believed in Merlin when he needed you to.”
Arthur sighed heavily and for a moment he looked much older than his years, like a King whose burdens were heavy and lonely. “Today, yes. But what about tomorrow? Every decision I make ... they all carry so much weight.” He pinched the bridge of his nose, screwing his eyes shut. “And I won’t always be right Gwen. I won’t always save the right man.”
“But you will always try Arthur,” Gwen said, reaching up and pulling his hands away from his face, shocked at her own boldness. “That’s what matters.”
He allowed her to pull his hands away, looking down at her with a surprising vulnerability in his gaze. “Why do you have such faith in me?”
“Because you are a good man,” she answered immediately, automatically. “You listened to me today even though I’m just a servant.”
“You really thought I was angry with you?” he asked, looking as though such a thing was not possible.
“I really did,” Gwen admitted, feeling foolish.
“I like that you speak your mind to me Guinevere,” he told her, his voice surprisingly gentle. “It’s one of the things I - ” he hesitated, then blushed slightly and continued, “-admire about you. I might be angry some times, but I will always listen ... I hope.”
Gwen flushed at his words, an unexpected warmth flooding to her cheeks. “Good, because I seem to be incapable of holding my tongue.”
“I am very glad of that,” he said sincerely, leaning ever so slightly closer to her.
Gwen realised she was leaning in as well, moving without realising it until her face was close to his. Arthur stared at her for a long moment, a surprisingly powerful tenderness in his gaze. Gwen froze, hardly breathing, willing herself to look away from him but entirely incapable of breaking the contact. Even as he leant in closer, his eyes never leaving her face, Arthur seemed to be having an internal argument with himself, his jaw tight as though he was battling some impulse. After an agonising moment of suspense, his eyes dropped to her lips and he edged closer, achingly slowly.
Later, Gwen would have no idea how she did it, but somehow she broke away from his gaze, taking a step back to a safer distance. Arthur closed his eyes and let out a long frustrated sigh that made Gwen’s stomach flip. He made no move to approach her again, sensing that the moment was lost.
“I should go, let you eat, Sire,” she added the title more for herself than for him, a reminder of their stations to stop her doing something foolish.
Gwen thought she saw a flash of regret in Arthur’s eyes as he agreed. “Of course, I’m keeping you from your rest. Go home, relax.” He smiled broadly, proudly. “You saved Gaius’ life today.”
“With your help,” Gwen reminded him, heading for the door.
“Goodnight Guinevere,” he called as she closed the door.
“Good night my Lord,” was her reply.
“And Guinevere?” he added hastily.
“Yes Sire?” she paused half-way out of his door, turning around.
He looked down, embarrassed, before raising his gaze to look at her, genuine affection warm in his eyes. “You are not just a servant. Not to me.”
Gwen had no response to that but her lips quirked upward of their own accord to smile at Arthur. He grinned back tentatively as she slipped out of the door.
She hurried away from his chambers, pausing around the nearest corner to lean against the cool stone. Her head was swimming, the scent of him all around her. She shook her head, trying to clear away the foolish thoughts and went down the stairs, heading home.
Not until she was alone in her bed did Gwen allow the tears to fall.
She did not cry because Arthur had failed to kiss her. She cried because she knew that in that moment, as he leant in close, she had hoped that he would.
It all made sense now, all the things she had denied even to herself. Why she looked for him around every corner, why he could infuriate her like no other, why she remembered the precise look in his eyes as he’d leant down impulsively to brush his lips against hers, and why she had been so upset to think her words had hurt him. It was foolish and hopeless and a terrible, terrible, thing but Gwen knew her own heart now. She, the servant, was falling for the Prince.
She turned over, wiping her eyes with the back of her hand and whispered aloud to herself, “Guinevere, you fool.”
~
Comments are love :)