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chaletianTitle: More Than A Game
Author:![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-userinfo.gif)
chaletian
Fandom: Merlin
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None, really.
Summary: Arthur thinks there’s something wrong with Gwen, and decides to get Merlin on the case.
Arthur Pendragon does not notice the servants’ moods. He’s a prince, after all. It’s nothing to him if one of the stable boys has had an argument with his mother, or a kitchen maid has a crush on someone, or Merlin’s tetchy about—well, OK, it’s harder to ignore Merlin being tetchy because he’s so bloody whiny about it, but Arthur thinks he does pretty well at Not Paying Attention. Arthur Pendragon is a prince. Arthur Pendragon doesn’t need to think of the servants.
So Arthur Pendragon would like to know why he can’t help but notice Gwen getting mopier and mopier by the day. In the privacy of his own mind, he gets quite indignant on the subject. Why should she, a mere maid, impinge on his thoughts so much? He gets quite carried away, up until the point his more pragmatic inner voice points out that the reason why he notices Gwen’s mopiness is perfectly obvious, what with the part where he’s massively in love with her.
“I’m massively in love with you,” he tries saying one day, but (a) he sounds like a tit, and (b) Gwen is down in the courtyard with Morgana, and he’s staring out of his window like a lovesick idiot. As declarations of love go, Arthur’s prepared to admit it’s a bit lacking, and also it turns out to hurt quite considerably, given that he and Gwen have no chance to be together, for the following reasons:
Reasons why Arthur and Gwen have no chance together
1. He’s the crown prince of Camelot and she’s a maid.
2. He’s the crown prince of Camelot and she’s a maid. Like all good points, it’s worth making twice.
3. His father will never allow it.
4.He has to provide Camelot with a queen, and Gwen has not been brought up to rule Scratch that one – he’s fairly confident that she’d be a good queen.
5. She’s in love withthat bounder the extremely dashing, brave and romantic Lancelot. It’s not that Arthur doubts his own dashingness and bravery (he’s not that romantic, admittedly, but he’s a prince, which surely counts for something?), but there is something different about Lancelot the bastard.
It’s the last reason that’s the problem, of course. Arthur leans against the stone embrasure of the window, and watches Gwen, mostly wishing that Merlin were around so he could shout at someone for no readily defined reason and also throw things. But Merlin’s not there, so Arthur has to content himself with a bit of masochistic voyeurism. And there, in the slump of the shoulders, he can see that Gwen’s still moping over something. He reckons that something is Lancelotthe cad.
After Gwen follows Morgana back into the castle, Arthur doesn’t see her for a couple of days. He hasn’t quite reached the stage of lurking in corners or anything (well, there was that one time, but Geoffrey of Monmouth appeared within three seconds wittering on about… something, so it really doesn’t count), and his pride won’t let him make up excuses to visit Morgana’s chambers. (Arthur just wishes his pride were a bit stricter about all the mooning and the watching and the sighing, because he is painfully aware that, were this happening to one of his own knights, he would be finding it all utterly hilarious.)
On the third day, Arthur goes out hunting with Morgana. That evening, while he’s eating his dinner in his chamber, Merlin says, “Gwen’s a bit quiet these days.”
“Hmm?” says Arthur (he’s impressed by his own nonchalance). “Really?”
“Yeah,” says Merlin with a frown. “You know how she can’t stop talking usually?”
“Yes,” says Arthur.
“She’s not like that,” says Merlin, and Arthur thinks, I know; something’s wrong.
“Ask her what’s wrong,” he says casually, and Merlin nods casually, and they both pretend Arthur has no real interest in Gwen’s wellbeing.
On the fourth day, Merlin sidles up to Arthur, and says, “She says she’s fine.”
“She’s not fine,” Arthur points out brusquely, shoving his scabbard at Merlin and striding towards the stables.
“That’s what I said,” says Merlin.
“So what did she say?” asks Arthur.
“She just said she wasn’t sleeping well.”
Arthur frowns. “Ask her if it’s about Lancelot,” he says, and Merlin purses his lips, and nods.
On the fifth day, Merlin says, “It’s not about Lancelot.” Since he’s in the middle of sorting Arthur’s bath, and he tips a jug full of water over Arthur’s head just as Arthur opens his mouth to reply, there’s a few seconds of choking and near drowning before the conversation can continue.
“You nearly drowned me!” Arthur says indignantly. “What do you mean, it’s not Lancelot? What else could it be?”
Merlin shrugs. “Dunno.”
“Well, ask her, you idiot!” demands Arthur, and Merlin clunks the jug down on the table. (Tetchy, thinks Arthur.)
“Tell you what,” says Merlin, “why don’t you ask her?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Arthur dismissively, and Merlin glares at him.
“Oh, I’m being ridiculous? I’m not the one who’s too scared to go and talk to a girl!”
Traditionally, when someone calls into question Arthur Pendragon’s bravery, there’s a lot of shouting and swords and fights to the death. But Arthur’s currently naked in the bath and he can’t help but feel he’s at a slight disadvantage, so he contents himself with sneering and saying, “Poppycock!” which isn’t half as satisfying as, say, cutting off one of Merlin’s limbs and forcing him to eat it.
“Oh yeah?” says Merlin, heading for the door. “Well, prove me wrong and go and talk to Gwen. And get out of the bath. You’re starting to look like a prune.”
On the sixth day, Arthur talks to Gwen. He manages this by unashamedly stalking her through the castle and pulling her into a store room when she parts ways with Morgana.
“What’s the matter?” he demands.
Gwen stares at him for a moment, a slight frown creasing her forehead. “Um…?”
There aren’t any windows, and it’s dark and too warm, and he can barely see her in the glints of light shining through the wooden door, but he can see her looking at him, eyes wide and bright. And she does look worried about something.
“I can tell something’s wrong,” Arthur says. “You’ve stopped talking the way you did, and you’re always frowning like you are now,” and he nudges at her forehead with his index finger, “and you look tired and…”
“I think Morgana’s practising magic,” Gwen blurts out, then stops, looking horrified.
Arthur stares at her, his hand dropping away as she starts babbling about what she’d seen and what she’d thought, and how she shouldn’t have said anything, and please, please, not to say anything to the king, and Arthur stares at her, thinking, Bloody hell. Bloody, bloody hell. What am I supposed to do about this?
The store room is dark and too warm, and he can barely see her in the gloom, but Arthur can see that Gwen is crying now, and he puts his arms around her even without thinking about it properly, and they stand there, in the dark and the warm, Gwen’s tears dampening Arthur’s tunic, their arms around each other, and Arthur’s still thinking, Bloody hell. He can’t believe Morgana would do any harm; he’s known her his whole life and he won’t believe it. And he should have noticed. Why didn’t he notice? He wonders, suddenly, if Gaius knows; if that’s what those potions are for, if Gaius thinks he can stop it. He runs his hand soothingly up and down Gwen’s back, and knows he should tell his father, and knows he won’t. He can’t betray Morgana. He can’t betray Gwen.
“I don’t know what to do,” says Gwen eventually, and Arthur squeezes her tight, then pulls away, his hands on her arms, his gaze intent on her.
“It will be all right, Guinevere,” he says seriously. “I promise. I’ll make sure of it.”
She smiles, a little tremulously, relieved, and he’s glad she has such faith in him, because he hasn’t got the faintest idea what to do.
“I’ll make sure of it,” he says again, and she nods, and he knows, somehow, that he will make sure of it. “We should get back,” he says, and she nods again, and they leave the store room, blinking a little at the light outside. Gwen goes on her way, with a backwards look full of trust, and he watches her go.
“You talked to her, then?” comes a voice from behind. It’s Merlin, looking as idiotically cheerful as always. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing,” snaps Arthur instinctively. “Honestly, Merlin, you gossip like an old woman!” He stalks off, his mind filled with magic and Morgana, and the feel of Guinevere in his arms, and somewhere inside he thinks that life will never be as easy again.
oOo
In dreams, Morgana sees futures that might be. She sees her friends moved around like chess pieces, relationships built and broken, power won and lost. High in the castle tower, she watches as Gwen hurries away, Merlin appears, and Arthur leaves: tiny figures moving on stone squares.
“You are quiet, my dear,” says Uther, and she looks back into the room to see him smiling at her. She shrugs a little, and crosses the room to sit back down opposite him.
“I don’t want to lose,” she says, resting her fingers on the ivory chess board.
Uther smiles indulgently. “It’s just a game,” he says, but Morgana shakes her head.
“No,” she says, “it’s more than a game.”
FIN
Author:
chaletianFandom: Merlin
Rating: PG
Spoilers: None, really.
Summary: Arthur thinks there’s something wrong with Gwen, and decides to get Merlin on the case.
Arthur Pendragon does not notice the servants’ moods. He’s a prince, after all. It’s nothing to him if one of the stable boys has had an argument with his mother, or a kitchen maid has a crush on someone, or Merlin’s tetchy about—well, OK, it’s harder to ignore Merlin being tetchy because he’s so bloody whiny about it, but Arthur thinks he does pretty well at Not Paying Attention. Arthur Pendragon is a prince. Arthur Pendragon doesn’t need to think of the servants.
So Arthur Pendragon would like to know why he can’t help but notice Gwen getting mopier and mopier by the day. In the privacy of his own mind, he gets quite indignant on the subject. Why should she, a mere maid, impinge on his thoughts so much? He gets quite carried away, up until the point his more pragmatic inner voice points out that the reason why he notices Gwen’s mopiness is perfectly obvious, what with the part where he’s massively in love with her.
“I’m massively in love with you,” he tries saying one day, but (a) he sounds like a tit, and (b) Gwen is down in the courtyard with Morgana, and he’s staring out of his window like a lovesick idiot. As declarations of love go, Arthur’s prepared to admit it’s a bit lacking, and also it turns out to hurt quite considerably, given that he and Gwen have no chance to be together, for the following reasons:
Reasons why Arthur and Gwen have no chance together
1. He’s the crown prince of Camelot and she’s a maid.
2. He’s the crown prince of Camelot and she’s a maid. Like all good points, it’s worth making twice.
3. His father will never allow it.
4.
5. She’s in love with
It’s the last reason that’s the problem, of course. Arthur leans against the stone embrasure of the window, and watches Gwen, mostly wishing that Merlin were around so he could shout at someone for no readily defined reason and also throw things. But Merlin’s not there, so Arthur has to content himself with a bit of masochistic voyeurism. And there, in the slump of the shoulders, he can see that Gwen’s still moping over something. He reckons that something is Lancelot
After Gwen follows Morgana back into the castle, Arthur doesn’t see her for a couple of days. He hasn’t quite reached the stage of lurking in corners or anything (well, there was that one time, but Geoffrey of Monmouth appeared within three seconds wittering on about… something, so it really doesn’t count), and his pride won’t let him make up excuses to visit Morgana’s chambers. (Arthur just wishes his pride were a bit stricter about all the mooning and the watching and the sighing, because he is painfully aware that, were this happening to one of his own knights, he would be finding it all utterly hilarious.)
On the third day, Arthur goes out hunting with Morgana. That evening, while he’s eating his dinner in his chamber, Merlin says, “Gwen’s a bit quiet these days.”
“Hmm?” says Arthur (he’s impressed by his own nonchalance). “Really?”
“Yeah,” says Merlin with a frown. “You know how she can’t stop talking usually?”
“Yes,” says Arthur.
“She’s not like that,” says Merlin, and Arthur thinks, I know; something’s wrong.
“Ask her what’s wrong,” he says casually, and Merlin nods casually, and they both pretend Arthur has no real interest in Gwen’s wellbeing.
On the fourth day, Merlin sidles up to Arthur, and says, “She says she’s fine.”
“She’s not fine,” Arthur points out brusquely, shoving his scabbard at Merlin and striding towards the stables.
“That’s what I said,” says Merlin.
“So what did she say?” asks Arthur.
“She just said she wasn’t sleeping well.”
Arthur frowns. “Ask her if it’s about Lancelot,” he says, and Merlin purses his lips, and nods.
On the fifth day, Merlin says, “It’s not about Lancelot.” Since he’s in the middle of sorting Arthur’s bath, and he tips a jug full of water over Arthur’s head just as Arthur opens his mouth to reply, there’s a few seconds of choking and near drowning before the conversation can continue.
“You nearly drowned me!” Arthur says indignantly. “What do you mean, it’s not Lancelot? What else could it be?”
Merlin shrugs. “Dunno.”
“Well, ask her, you idiot!” demands Arthur, and Merlin clunks the jug down on the table. (Tetchy, thinks Arthur.)
“Tell you what,” says Merlin, “why don’t you ask her?”
“Don’t be ridiculous,” says Arthur dismissively, and Merlin glares at him.
“Oh, I’m being ridiculous? I’m not the one who’s too scared to go and talk to a girl!”
Traditionally, when someone calls into question Arthur Pendragon’s bravery, there’s a lot of shouting and swords and fights to the death. But Arthur’s currently naked in the bath and he can’t help but feel he’s at a slight disadvantage, so he contents himself with sneering and saying, “Poppycock!” which isn’t half as satisfying as, say, cutting off one of Merlin’s limbs and forcing him to eat it.
“Oh yeah?” says Merlin, heading for the door. “Well, prove me wrong and go and talk to Gwen. And get out of the bath. You’re starting to look like a prune.”
On the sixth day, Arthur talks to Gwen. He manages this by unashamedly stalking her through the castle and pulling her into a store room when she parts ways with Morgana.
“What’s the matter?” he demands.
Gwen stares at him for a moment, a slight frown creasing her forehead. “Um…?”
There aren’t any windows, and it’s dark and too warm, and he can barely see her in the glints of light shining through the wooden door, but he can see her looking at him, eyes wide and bright. And she does look worried about something.
“I can tell something’s wrong,” Arthur says. “You’ve stopped talking the way you did, and you’re always frowning like you are now,” and he nudges at her forehead with his index finger, “and you look tired and…”
“I think Morgana’s practising magic,” Gwen blurts out, then stops, looking horrified.
Arthur stares at her, his hand dropping away as she starts babbling about what she’d seen and what she’d thought, and how she shouldn’t have said anything, and please, please, not to say anything to the king, and Arthur stares at her, thinking, Bloody hell. Bloody, bloody hell. What am I supposed to do about this?
The store room is dark and too warm, and he can barely see her in the gloom, but Arthur can see that Gwen is crying now, and he puts his arms around her even without thinking about it properly, and they stand there, in the dark and the warm, Gwen’s tears dampening Arthur’s tunic, their arms around each other, and Arthur’s still thinking, Bloody hell. He can’t believe Morgana would do any harm; he’s known her his whole life and he won’t believe it. And he should have noticed. Why didn’t he notice? He wonders, suddenly, if Gaius knows; if that’s what those potions are for, if Gaius thinks he can stop it. He runs his hand soothingly up and down Gwen’s back, and knows he should tell his father, and knows he won’t. He can’t betray Morgana. He can’t betray Gwen.
“I don’t know what to do,” says Gwen eventually, and Arthur squeezes her tight, then pulls away, his hands on her arms, his gaze intent on her.
“It will be all right, Guinevere,” he says seriously. “I promise. I’ll make sure of it.”
She smiles, a little tremulously, relieved, and he’s glad she has such faith in him, because he hasn’t got the faintest idea what to do.
“I’ll make sure of it,” he says again, and she nods, and he knows, somehow, that he will make sure of it. “We should get back,” he says, and she nods again, and they leave the store room, blinking a little at the light outside. Gwen goes on her way, with a backwards look full of trust, and he watches her go.
“You talked to her, then?” comes a voice from behind. It’s Merlin, looking as idiotically cheerful as always. “What’s wrong with her?”
“Nothing,” snaps Arthur instinctively. “Honestly, Merlin, you gossip like an old woman!” He stalks off, his mind filled with magic and Morgana, and the feel of Guinevere in his arms, and somewhere inside he thinks that life will never be as easy again.
In dreams, Morgana sees futures that might be. She sees her friends moved around like chess pieces, relationships built and broken, power won and lost. High in the castle tower, she watches as Gwen hurries away, Merlin appears, and Arthur leaves: tiny figures moving on stone squares.
“You are quiet, my dear,” says Uther, and she looks back into the room to see him smiling at her. She shrugs a little, and crosses the room to sit back down opposite him.
“I don’t want to lose,” she says, resting her fingers on the ivory chess board.
Uther smiles indulgently. “It’s just a game,” he says, but Morgana shakes her head.
“No,” she says, “it’s more than a game.”
FIN
![[identity profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/openid.png){kind=small}
no subject
Date: 2009-11-16 02:29 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-16 02:41 pm (UTC)Loved it x
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Date: 2009-11-16 02:46 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-16 03:14 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-16 03:25 pm (UTC)Also I LOVE the inner-language of Arthur's mind. He's so cute. Gwen's confession scene was beautiful. The ending made me shudder. Really well done. Thank you for writing this!
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Date: 2009-11-16 03:28 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-16 04:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-16 05:55 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-16 06:30 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-16 08:54 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-16 09:07 pm (UTC)I love that entire paragraph more than I should. GREAT piece.
no subject
Date: 2009-11-16 10:42 pm (UTC)I loved it!
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Date: 2009-11-16 11:35 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-17 01:07 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-17 02:57 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-17 04:25 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-17 07:54 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-17 08:40 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-17 11:26 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-18 06:38 am (UTC)no subject
Date: 2009-11-18 02:06 pm (UTC)Great ending, too ;).
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Date: 2009-11-22 04:01 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2010-05-02 04:59 pm (UTC)no subject
Date: 2011-06-03 04:31 pm (UTC)Fabulous.