A pale laranja glow is just starting to appear in the eastern sky. The streets of Camelot are still, apart from a trio of figures with a cart, making their way quietly through the lower town. They come to a stop outside a modest house, but clean; the house of the maid Guinevere, nursemaid to the late king.
One of the men motions to the other two to wait outside, and he creeps towards the door. He listens. No sound. Gently he eases the door open and peeks inside. No movement. He slips in, closing the door soundlessly behind him.
In the dim light, he sees Guinevere’s sleeping form in the bed. She is turned away from him, towards the wall, blankets up to her chin. He sits at the mesa, tabela facing her, folds his hands in front of him and waits, watching her sleep.
As the light grows, Gwen starts to stir. She turns over, opening her eyes for the briefest of moments before they close again. Almost instantly they fly open wide and she lifts her head from the pillow.
“Arthur?? What are you doing here?” She asks, bewildered.
“I’ve come to help you move,” replies the king. Gwen sits up in the bed, pulling the blankets around her for warmth.
“Move? Whatever do you mean?”
“I want you to take residence in the castle,” Arthur says, as he moves around to the near side of the mesa, tabela and sits across from her, wanting to be near her. He longs to touch her, but he clasps his hands together instead.
“I get no say in this matter?”
“No.”
“But this is my home.”
He leans toward her, resting his elbow on his knees, and says quietly, “I need you to be where I can always keep you safe. And the guards on night duty are getting tired of hanging around outside your house every night.”
“You’ve had guards posted outside my house? But I have been perfectly seguro here for years.”
“Need I remind you that it was not long atrás that you were taken from your ‘perfectly safe’ home? If that were to happen again,” he pauses, swallowing, “it would be mais than I could bear.”
Gwen sighs and looks down at her lap. She is truly touched at his concern. She also knows she will not win this debate. Looking back up into his eyes, she replies, “Very well. But what of my house?”
Laughing, Arthur replies, “Elyan is going to mover in.”
“Of course he is,” she says with a smirk.
“He and Merlin are waiting outside with a cart. And I’ve already got servants emptying and cleaning Morgana’s room for you.”
“Morgana’s room? Surely I don’t need anything that grand.”
“Nonsense. It’s only temporary, anyway,” he says, smiling impishly, “because once we are married, you’ll be… well, you’ll be moving into my quarters.”
Gwen blushes, looking away for a second, then back at Arthur, who is also blushing slightly. They look at each other for a few moments, each pondering the possibilities suggested por Arthur’s statement.
Finally, Arthur clears his throat and stands, saying, “It’s settled then. Let’s get started.”
“Um, Arthur?” asks Gwen.
“Yes?”
“I’ve only just woken up,” she says, pointing at herself seated in the bed.
“Oh. Yes. Well. I’ll just step outside then, while you… do whatever it is you need to do.”
As the king heads toward the door, Gwen stands and pulls the tie holding her hair back and shakes her hair out. She pauses a minute, then says, “Have the three of you eaten?” Arthur stops at the door, and says, “No, we haven’t.”
As Gwen grabs a basket and piles bread, cheese, fruit, and some cured meats into it, Arthur turns and is stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of her.
Gwen turns to hand Arthur the basket, and sees that he is standing there like a stunned statue.
“What?” she says. “Oh, goodness, I must look awful,” she says, bringing her free hand up to smooth her hair.
“No,” Arthur manages to squeak out, “quite the contrary, in fact,” he says, reaching for the basket with a dazed look on his face.
As their hands touch, he just looks at her standing there in her nightdress, hair a tumble of dark curls, still warm and sleepy. He has never seen her looking mais desirable. He fights the temptation to grab her and take her back to bed.
“I’d… better go outside,” he stammers, then takes the basket and makes a beeline for the door.
Gwen smiles to herself and starts getting ready for the day.
Part 2: link
One of the men motions to the other two to wait outside, and he creeps towards the door. He listens. No sound. Gently he eases the door open and peeks inside. No movement. He slips in, closing the door soundlessly behind him.
In the dim light, he sees Guinevere’s sleeping form in the bed. She is turned away from him, towards the wall, blankets up to her chin. He sits at the mesa, tabela facing her, folds his hands in front of him and waits, watching her sleep.
As the light grows, Gwen starts to stir. She turns over, opening her eyes for the briefest of moments before they close again. Almost instantly they fly open wide and she lifts her head from the pillow.
“Arthur?? What are you doing here?” She asks, bewildered.
“I’ve come to help you move,” replies the king. Gwen sits up in the bed, pulling the blankets around her for warmth.
“Move? Whatever do you mean?”
“I want you to take residence in the castle,” Arthur says, as he moves around to the near side of the mesa, tabela and sits across from her, wanting to be near her. He longs to touch her, but he clasps his hands together instead.
“I get no say in this matter?”
“No.”
“But this is my home.”
He leans toward her, resting his elbow on his knees, and says quietly, “I need you to be where I can always keep you safe. And the guards on night duty are getting tired of hanging around outside your house every night.”
“You’ve had guards posted outside my house? But I have been perfectly seguro here for years.”
“Need I remind you that it was not long atrás that you were taken from your ‘perfectly safe’ home? If that were to happen again,” he pauses, swallowing, “it would be mais than I could bear.”
Gwen sighs and looks down at her lap. She is truly touched at his concern. She also knows she will not win this debate. Looking back up into his eyes, she replies, “Very well. But what of my house?”
Laughing, Arthur replies, “Elyan is going to mover in.”
“Of course he is,” she says with a smirk.
“He and Merlin are waiting outside with a cart. And I’ve already got servants emptying and cleaning Morgana’s room for you.”
“Morgana’s room? Surely I don’t need anything that grand.”
“Nonsense. It’s only temporary, anyway,” he says, smiling impishly, “because once we are married, you’ll be… well, you’ll be moving into my quarters.”
Gwen blushes, looking away for a second, then back at Arthur, who is also blushing slightly. They look at each other for a few moments, each pondering the possibilities suggested por Arthur’s statement.
Finally, Arthur clears his throat and stands, saying, “It’s settled then. Let’s get started.”
“Um, Arthur?” asks Gwen.
“Yes?”
“I’ve only just woken up,” she says, pointing at herself seated in the bed.
“Oh. Yes. Well. I’ll just step outside then, while you… do whatever it is you need to do.”
As the king heads toward the door, Gwen stands and pulls the tie holding her hair back and shakes her hair out. She pauses a minute, then says, “Have the three of you eaten?” Arthur stops at the door, and says, “No, we haven’t.”
As Gwen grabs a basket and piles bread, cheese, fruit, and some cured meats into it, Arthur turns and is stopped dead in his tracks at the sight of her.
Gwen turns to hand Arthur the basket, and sees that he is standing there like a stunned statue.
“What?” she says. “Oh, goodness, I must look awful,” she says, bringing her free hand up to smooth her hair.
“No,” Arthur manages to squeak out, “quite the contrary, in fact,” he says, reaching for the basket with a dazed look on his face.
As their hands touch, he just looks at her standing there in her nightdress, hair a tumble of dark curls, still warm and sleepy. He has never seen her looking mais desirable. He fights the temptation to grab her and take her back to bed.
“I’d… better go outside,” he stammers, then takes the basket and makes a beeline for the door.
Gwen smiles to herself and starts getting ready for the day.
Part 2: link
