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7s_prompts] Once Upon a Time (Five brief moments in the life o
Dec. 16th, 2010 01:34 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
neverlostfaithA/N: OMG. So, I've been toying with the idea of this since 3x10 aired last month, and I'm so glad it's finally done. It ended up being stupidly long, but hopefully kind of hilarious (I think so, but then again, I might be the only one who thinks my jokes are funny). There may be typos, because I literally just finished it and it's 1:30 AM and I can't be bothered to go over it and check it now. I'll do that later. And I'm going to finish off this note before it gets too rambly. Enjoy!
1
If anyone thought it odd that the woman, who, in less than twenty-four hours would be the queen of Camelot, was pacing the throne room in her nightclothes, they didn’t say it. Gwen herself knew it wasn’t exactly the most appropriate thing in the world for Camelot’s future queen to be wandering about the castle in the state she was in, but she was too nervous to sleep, and, for some reason, the sight of the two thrones next to each other was oddly comforting.
Tomorrow she would be crowned queen of Camelot. To say she was nervous would be an understatement.
Gwen stopped her pacing, and plopped herself down onto the steps in front of the thrones. The steps she’d be kneeling on tomorrow. She went over the ceremony in her head, bit by bit, piece by piece. They’d practiced earlier in the day, and it had gone smoothly, but she was still nervous that something was going to go wrong. What if she tripped on the train of her dress while walking down the aisle? What if she wasn’t graceful as she kneeled down? What if she fell all together while kneeling or standing? She twirled a piece of hair between her fingers, while she thought of all the things that could go wrong. Was she even sure she wanted to go through with this? What is nobody would accept her as queen? She was born a commoner, after al.
The sound of the door opening drew her back into the real world, and she looked up to see Arthur, walking towards her and smiling. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Gwen shook her head. “Too nervous,” she admitted. “I keep thinking of all of the things that could possibly go wrong tomorrow. I know they probably won’t happen, I just can’t help it.”
Arthur stopped in front of where she was sitting, and offered her his hands. When she took them, he pulled her up, then wrapped his arms around her in a hug. “Nothing will go wrong tomorrow. I promise.”
“You can’t promise that.” Gwen hugged him back, resting her cheek on his chest. “You can’t see the future, Arthur, you don’t know for sure—“
“What I do know for sure is that no matter what happens tomorrow, you’ll finally be my queen, and because of that, everything will be perfect.” He stepped back, and looked at her. “I think that matters more than how some silly ceremony goes.”
Gwen rolled her eyes, but what he said made her smile. “I suppose you’re right. Still, I can’t help but be nervous.”
“Then be nervous all you want.” Arthur shrugged, “But if you’re nervous and you haven’t slept at all, that’s asking for trouble.” He took her hand, and nodded slightly toward the door. “Shall we?”
Gwen nodded, and allowed him to lead her back to their bedroom. He was right, about both things. No matter what, after tomorrow, she would be Camelot’s queen, and she’d be the queen, even if she tripped while she was walking down the aisle.
2
Gwen remembered the exact moment she’d started to dislike tournaments. It was when Arthur was pretending to be Sir William, and she’d started to spend more time worrying about his safety than enjoying the jousting. She worried about him more and more with each tournament, sometimes even skipping them all together and finding ways to keep herself busy, to take her mind off of things. And it wasn’t just Arthur she worried after; Elyan, Lancelot, Leon, and Gwaine all competed, as well, and Gwen couldn’t help but worry about them, too.
After she became queen, it became impossible for her to avoid the tournaments, and even if she did manage it, she wouldn’t have been able to busy herself with dishes or laundry or scrubbing the floors like she did before. Gwen told herself it was better to be there, so she’d know immediately if Arthur or one of the others was injured, and so she could be by his side if he was.
Merlin sat next to her, and she was glad to have him there. His company, conversation, and his commentary on the jousting was comforting, and kept her from spending the entire time fidgeting in her seat. Her mind had been wandering between contestants, when Merlin reached over and gently squeezed her hand. When she looked at him, he nodded toward the arena. “Arthur.”
Sure enough, when she looked, Arthur was in the arena mounting his horse, preparing for his first joust. He glanced over to the stands and nodded his head in Gwen’s direction, and Gwen did the same in his. She’d never seen Arthur lose before, but she still couldn’t help gripping Merlin’s hand when he moved his horse into place, and waited for the signal.
It happened quickly, as those things often did. Arthur’s opponent’s lance broke when it connected with Arthur’s armor, and despite the fact that he stayed on his horse, she could tell, by the change in his posture, that Arthur was hurt. As she stood up and quickly made her way to his tent, Gwen couldn’t help but have a flashback to the last time she’d done the same thing. She didn’t need to look behind her to know that Merlin was following her.
Gwen burst into the tent, followed by Merlin, and found him already sitting, helmet and breastplate off. She saw him wince as his chainmail was removed, and sat next to him while Merlin checked him over for any serious injuries.
“I’m sure it’s nothing, Guinevere, really.” He gave her a smile, and then winced a little when Merlin poked a spot on his chest.
“Did that hurt?” Merlin asked, almost a little too innocently.
Arthur gave him a look. “Of course it hurt, you poked me where his lance hit!”
Merlin poked around a little bit more, then stood back. “You’re fine. Looks like it’s just a bruise. Just don’t get hit in that spot again.”
Arthur turned to his wife, and smiled again. “See? Nothing.”
“It could have been something!” She gave him almost the same look he’d given Merlin earlier. “I worry, you know that.”
“I’m going to finish this, and then the only person you have to worry about is Gwaine.” Arthur was putting his armor back on, with Merlin’s help. “And you’ve seen who he’s matched against, so you don’t even really have to worry about him at all.”
She walked him back to his horse after he’d finished putting all of his armor back on, and gave him a quick kiss for luck. “Don’t get hit in that spot again.”
“He won’t hit me at all, I promise.” It wasn’t something he could really promise, but she gave him a small smile, and walked back to her seat. And when Arthur unseated his opponent, she stood up and clapped as loud as anyone else. Gwen may have hated jousts, but she couldn’t help but love it when Arthur won.
3
“Are you enjoying the feast, your majesty?” Merlin sat down next to Gwen, and picked an untouched piece of food from her plate, popped it into his mouth and grinned at her.
Gwen laughed, and pushed her plate aside. “Yes, I am. What about you?”
Merlin had turned his attention from Gwen’s plate to a platter of food in front of him. “If I wasn’t, I would have found an excuse to sneak away by now. I think my favorite thing so far has been watching the knights have drinking contests.”
The mention of knights and drinking contests made Gwen laugh some more. She’d been paying attention to them, herself. “I’m starting to think that if they don’t stop soon, the servants are going to have to clean up around them while they sleep it off.”
“I see Arthur’s been abstaining from drinking too much tonight.” Merlin was smirking at her. “I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that.”
“His snoring is worse after he’s been drinking.” Gwen shrugged, and might’ve smirked back a little bit. “He already sounds like a pig on a regular night—“
“Careful, Gwen, you’re calling your king a pig in public.”
“I’m not calling him a pig, Merlin, I’m just saying he snores like one.” She pointed out. “And you know just as well as I do that he does.”
It was Merlin’s turn to laugh. Gwen was afraid he was going to spit out whatever was in his mouth, he was laughing so hard. “So, he snores worse after he’s been drinking.”
“So I told him that if he drinks too much tonight, he’ll be finding another room to sleep in, because I actually intend to get some rest tonight, and that’ll be impossible if he’s being loud.”
Merlin laughed harder. “You threatened him!”
Gwen looked thoughtful, before laughing, too. “Yes, I did. I’m actually a bit surprised that it worked.”
“I’m not,” Merlin shook his head, still laughing. “Threatening to be kicked out of your own bed is serious, Gwen.”
“Apparently. I just can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. It would’ve saved me a lot of sleepless nights.” Gwen looked over at the knights, where Gwaine was soundly beating Leon at another contest, while a sober Arthur officiated.
Merlin looked over at the knights, too, and started laughing all over again. “Is Arthur pouting?”
“Probably.” Gwen took a sip from the goblet in front of her. “He’ll be thanking me in the morning, when he’s not feeling the after effects of the alcohol.”
“And I’m sure he’ll be torturing those who will be.”
4
If there was one thing Gwen absolutely hated about being queen, it was that she had to have guards follow her almost everywhere she went when she left the castle. She still liked visiting the town, talking to her former neighbors, and shopping in the market, but it always just seemed like such a hassle with the guards that she didn’t do it nearly as often as she wanted to.
That was, until Gwaine, who found himself listening to Gwen venting her frustrations about being followed everywhere, took it upon himself to be her personal guard when she went into the town, figuring that one knight close by at all times was worth at least the two guards she’d be taking with her. Gwen, of course, was happy that, even though he was acting as her guard, he didn’t feel like one. No, he just felt like her friend, Gwaine, who was accompanying her out on a walk through Camelot.
They spent the most time in the market, stopping at various different stalls and shops, picking out things to buy and bring back with them. Gwaine, always on the lookout for a good sword, often stopped to look at the different weapons the blacksmiths would display, and Gwen, still a seamstress at heart, never left the market without purchasing at least a little bit of material to make something with.
“Do you remember when we met?” Gwaine grinned at her, and presented her with a flower he’d bought from the woman they’d just passed.
“You must have a lot of those to hand out to any girl who catches your fancy.” Gwen laughed, as she accepted the flower.
“I only have eyes for you, your majesty.”
“I certainly hope not!” Gwen feigned shock. “My husband can be a very jealous man, you know.”
Gwaine heaved a dramatic sigh. “And the last thing I want is to fight him. It never seems to end well for either of us, when I do.”
“That sounds like a story you’ll have to tell me sometime.” Gwen stopped as they passed a seller with tables full of fabrics, and held up a piece of blue cloth. “Do you think this would suit Merlin?”
“I think Merlin will be the toast of the town in that shade, my lady.” Gwaine laughed. “Everyone will be jealous, and want to wear it.”
“Well, if that’s not a ‘yes,’ I don’t know what is.” Gwen had an order of the fabric to sent to the castle, then turned back to Gwaine. “Is there anywhere else you’d like to look before we go back?”
He shook his head. “No, I’ve already looked at all of the shiny things that caught my eye this afternoon.”
And with that, the two of them walked back to the castle, chatting about fabrics and how Merlin was going to bring blue back into fashion.
5
Gwen understood why Arthur wasn’t with her, but it didn’t stop her from being angry about it. And when a woman in labor was angry, everyone in the room knew about it.
“He’s on his way, Gwen, I promise.” Merlin was leaning against the wall, watching her pace. He’d been with Arthur on the border, setting a dispute with a neighboring kingdom and taking care of a bandit problem, but had returned the day before, sent ahead by Arthur, to see how Gwen was doing. “A messenger came this morning and said they were a few hours ride away—“
“This morning was a few hours ago.” Gwen glared at him, then immediately felt bad about it. She had no reason to be to angry with Merlin. “Sorry.”
Merlin shrugged it off. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve been at his for…how long now?”
“Too long.”
“Yes, well, anyway, you’ve been at this for a while now. You’ve earned the right to snap.” He frowned a little bit. “Speaking of how long you’ve been waiting, shouldn’t this be done yet?” He’d been waiting with her for what seemed like forever, and was ready for it all to be over and done with.
“These things take time, Merlin.” Gwen sat down on her bed, and leaned back against the headboard. “I don’t think it’ll be much longer, though.”
“With any luck, if he, or she, waits a little longer, their father might be around to be here when they come into the world.”
Right on cue, when he said that, things started to speed up, and, according to the midwife, Camelot’s future prince, or princess, was coming right now. Gwen gave a weak laugh. “You just had to say the word wait, didn’t you, Merlin? If you hadn’t noticed, princes aren’t really used to waiting for much of anything.”
Merlin went to her side, and squeezed her hand. “I did work for one for a long time. Do you still think it’s a prince?”
Gwen nodded, and squeezed his hand back. Hard. She was starting to think people were severely understating things when they talked about the pain of childbirth. “I’m sure of it.”
“So sure you’ll make a wager?”
“Is now really the best time for that, Merlin?”
“Just trying to lighten the mood.” He grinned at her, and dodged the pillow she threw at his head.
An hour and a half later, Merlin was sitting next to Gwen, who was gently rocking Camelot’s newest prince in her arms. He reached out and stroked his cheek, and smiled at Gwen. “He looks like you.”
“Only the hair. The rest looks like Arthur. ” She smiled back. “What was that you were saying about a wager earlier? Because I think I won.”
“We never actually made one, because you were too busy throwing things at me and demanding I get out. And then come back in.” He laughed. “And then get out again. And then come back in again--“
Gwen rolled her eyes. “I get it, Merlin.”
“Are you sure? Because you seemed really confused about whether or not you wanted me around when you kept ordering me out, and then back in.”
“If you keep it up, I’m going to make you leave again.”
Merlin busied himself with playing with the baby’s fingers. “My lips are sealed, your majesty.” The smile on his face grew when the baby gripped his finger. “Have you thought of a name yet?”
“There are a few we were thinking of, but we haven’t chosen anything yet.” She laughed at the goofy smile on Merlin’s face. “I’m sure Arthur will have an opinion when he returns.”
“I think, because I had to put up with nearly twenty-four hours of abuse from you, I should be the one to name him. What do you think of Hector?”
“You’re not naming my son, Merlin.” Gwen rolled her eyes again, laughing.
“I’m quite partial to ‘Merlin the second,’ personally.” He gave her another goofy smile, which made her laugh more.
“Perhaps his middle name.”
“Hector Merlin the Second Pendragon.” Merlin mused. “I like it.” He looked down at the baby. “I think Hector does, too.”
“I’m not naming him Hector.”
“I think Hector Merlin the Second might disagree with that.”
They were still laughing when Arthur burst into the room, breathing heavily and looking red. The sight of Arthur catching his breath made them laugh harder.
He gave them both a quizzical look. “What’s so funny?”
“Merlin thinks enduring twenty four hours of me yelling at him has earned him the right to name the child.”
“In my defense, she was really mean to me.” Merlin stood up, and proved that old habits die hard when he took Arthur’s cloak. “Gwen keeps telling me no.”
“That’s because Guinevere is smart enough to know better.” Arthur walked over to the bed, and sat down where Merlin had been sitting a moment ago. “How are you feeling?” He pushed some of Gwen’s hair out of her face, and kissed her on the cheek.
“Tired.” She admitted, gently putting the bundle of baby and cloth into his arms and leaning against him. “Arthur Pendragon, meet your son.”
Arthur was quiet for a while, staring at the baby, before he spoke up again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I tried to get back in time.”
“I know. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.” Gwen sank down into the bed, curling up against Arthur, where he sat. “And you sent Merlin, and I’m grateful for that.”
“Speaking of.” Arthur looked between Merlin, who was sitting in a chair a few feet away from the bed, and Gwen. “What did you want to name him?”
“Hector Merlin the Second Pendragon.” Gwen said through a yawn. “Don’t you dare agree to it.”
Now, it was Arthur’s turn to laugh. “Not a chance. Sorry, Merlin.”
“Maybe next time.” Merlin grinned at them, and stood up to leave. “It’s a great name.”
When he left, Arthur looked down at Gwen, who was half asleep. “What about Amhar?”
“It’s better than Hector Merlin the Second.”
“Amhar it is, then.”
1
If anyone thought it odd that the woman, who, in less than twenty-four hours would be the queen of Camelot, was pacing the throne room in her nightclothes, they didn’t say it. Gwen herself knew it wasn’t exactly the most appropriate thing in the world for Camelot’s future queen to be wandering about the castle in the state she was in, but she was too nervous to sleep, and, for some reason, the sight of the two thrones next to each other was oddly comforting.
Tomorrow she would be crowned queen of Camelot. To say she was nervous would be an understatement.
Gwen stopped her pacing, and plopped herself down onto the steps in front of the thrones. The steps she’d be kneeling on tomorrow. She went over the ceremony in her head, bit by bit, piece by piece. They’d practiced earlier in the day, and it had gone smoothly, but she was still nervous that something was going to go wrong. What if she tripped on the train of her dress while walking down the aisle? What if she wasn’t graceful as she kneeled down? What if she fell all together while kneeling or standing? She twirled a piece of hair between her fingers, while she thought of all the things that could go wrong. Was she even sure she wanted to go through with this? What is nobody would accept her as queen? She was born a commoner, after al.
The sound of the door opening drew her back into the real world, and she looked up to see Arthur, walking towards her and smiling. “Couldn’t sleep?”
Gwen shook her head. “Too nervous,” she admitted. “I keep thinking of all of the things that could possibly go wrong tomorrow. I know they probably won’t happen, I just can’t help it.”
Arthur stopped in front of where she was sitting, and offered her his hands. When she took them, he pulled her up, then wrapped his arms around her in a hug. “Nothing will go wrong tomorrow. I promise.”
“You can’t promise that.” Gwen hugged him back, resting her cheek on his chest. “You can’t see the future, Arthur, you don’t know for sure—“
“What I do know for sure is that no matter what happens tomorrow, you’ll finally be my queen, and because of that, everything will be perfect.” He stepped back, and looked at her. “I think that matters more than how some silly ceremony goes.”
Gwen rolled her eyes, but what he said made her smile. “I suppose you’re right. Still, I can’t help but be nervous.”
“Then be nervous all you want.” Arthur shrugged, “But if you’re nervous and you haven’t slept at all, that’s asking for trouble.” He took her hand, and nodded slightly toward the door. “Shall we?”
Gwen nodded, and allowed him to lead her back to their bedroom. He was right, about both things. No matter what, after tomorrow, she would be Camelot’s queen, and she’d be the queen, even if she tripped while she was walking down the aisle.
2
Gwen remembered the exact moment she’d started to dislike tournaments. It was when Arthur was pretending to be Sir William, and she’d started to spend more time worrying about his safety than enjoying the jousting. She worried about him more and more with each tournament, sometimes even skipping them all together and finding ways to keep herself busy, to take her mind off of things. And it wasn’t just Arthur she worried after; Elyan, Lancelot, Leon, and Gwaine all competed, as well, and Gwen couldn’t help but worry about them, too.
After she became queen, it became impossible for her to avoid the tournaments, and even if she did manage it, she wouldn’t have been able to busy herself with dishes or laundry or scrubbing the floors like she did before. Gwen told herself it was better to be there, so she’d know immediately if Arthur or one of the others was injured, and so she could be by his side if he was.
Merlin sat next to her, and she was glad to have him there. His company, conversation, and his commentary on the jousting was comforting, and kept her from spending the entire time fidgeting in her seat. Her mind had been wandering between contestants, when Merlin reached over and gently squeezed her hand. When she looked at him, he nodded toward the arena. “Arthur.”
Sure enough, when she looked, Arthur was in the arena mounting his horse, preparing for his first joust. He glanced over to the stands and nodded his head in Gwen’s direction, and Gwen did the same in his. She’d never seen Arthur lose before, but she still couldn’t help gripping Merlin’s hand when he moved his horse into place, and waited for the signal.
It happened quickly, as those things often did. Arthur’s opponent’s lance broke when it connected with Arthur’s armor, and despite the fact that he stayed on his horse, she could tell, by the change in his posture, that Arthur was hurt. As she stood up and quickly made her way to his tent, Gwen couldn’t help but have a flashback to the last time she’d done the same thing. She didn’t need to look behind her to know that Merlin was following her.
Gwen burst into the tent, followed by Merlin, and found him already sitting, helmet and breastplate off. She saw him wince as his chainmail was removed, and sat next to him while Merlin checked him over for any serious injuries.
“I’m sure it’s nothing, Guinevere, really.” He gave her a smile, and then winced a little when Merlin poked a spot on his chest.
“Did that hurt?” Merlin asked, almost a little too innocently.
Arthur gave him a look. “Of course it hurt, you poked me where his lance hit!”
Merlin poked around a little bit more, then stood back. “You’re fine. Looks like it’s just a bruise. Just don’t get hit in that spot again.”
Arthur turned to his wife, and smiled again. “See? Nothing.”
“It could have been something!” She gave him almost the same look he’d given Merlin earlier. “I worry, you know that.”
“I’m going to finish this, and then the only person you have to worry about is Gwaine.” Arthur was putting his armor back on, with Merlin’s help. “And you’ve seen who he’s matched against, so you don’t even really have to worry about him at all.”
She walked him back to his horse after he’d finished putting all of his armor back on, and gave him a quick kiss for luck. “Don’t get hit in that spot again.”
“He won’t hit me at all, I promise.” It wasn’t something he could really promise, but she gave him a small smile, and walked back to her seat. And when Arthur unseated his opponent, she stood up and clapped as loud as anyone else. Gwen may have hated jousts, but she couldn’t help but love it when Arthur won.
3
“Are you enjoying the feast, your majesty?” Merlin sat down next to Gwen, and picked an untouched piece of food from her plate, popped it into his mouth and grinned at her.
Gwen laughed, and pushed her plate aside. “Yes, I am. What about you?”
Merlin had turned his attention from Gwen’s plate to a platter of food in front of him. “If I wasn’t, I would have found an excuse to sneak away by now. I think my favorite thing so far has been watching the knights have drinking contests.”
The mention of knights and drinking contests made Gwen laugh some more. She’d been paying attention to them, herself. “I’m starting to think that if they don’t stop soon, the servants are going to have to clean up around them while they sleep it off.”
“I see Arthur’s been abstaining from drinking too much tonight.” Merlin was smirking at her. “I don’t suppose you had anything to do with that.”
“His snoring is worse after he’s been drinking.” Gwen shrugged, and might’ve smirked back a little bit. “He already sounds like a pig on a regular night—“
“Careful, Gwen, you’re calling your king a pig in public.”
“I’m not calling him a pig, Merlin, I’m just saying he snores like one.” She pointed out. “And you know just as well as I do that he does.”
It was Merlin’s turn to laugh. Gwen was afraid he was going to spit out whatever was in his mouth, he was laughing so hard. “So, he snores worse after he’s been drinking.”
“So I told him that if he drinks too much tonight, he’ll be finding another room to sleep in, because I actually intend to get some rest tonight, and that’ll be impossible if he’s being loud.”
Merlin laughed harder. “You threatened him!”
Gwen looked thoughtful, before laughing, too. “Yes, I did. I’m actually a bit surprised that it worked.”
“I’m not,” Merlin shook his head, still laughing. “Threatening to be kicked out of your own bed is serious, Gwen.”
“Apparently. I just can’t believe I didn’t think of it sooner. It would’ve saved me a lot of sleepless nights.” Gwen looked over at the knights, where Gwaine was soundly beating Leon at another contest, while a sober Arthur officiated.
Merlin looked over at the knights, too, and started laughing all over again. “Is Arthur pouting?”
“Probably.” Gwen took a sip from the goblet in front of her. “He’ll be thanking me in the morning, when he’s not feeling the after effects of the alcohol.”
“And I’m sure he’ll be torturing those who will be.”
4
If there was one thing Gwen absolutely hated about being queen, it was that she had to have guards follow her almost everywhere she went when she left the castle. She still liked visiting the town, talking to her former neighbors, and shopping in the market, but it always just seemed like such a hassle with the guards that she didn’t do it nearly as often as she wanted to.
That was, until Gwaine, who found himself listening to Gwen venting her frustrations about being followed everywhere, took it upon himself to be her personal guard when she went into the town, figuring that one knight close by at all times was worth at least the two guards she’d be taking with her. Gwen, of course, was happy that, even though he was acting as her guard, he didn’t feel like one. No, he just felt like her friend, Gwaine, who was accompanying her out on a walk through Camelot.
They spent the most time in the market, stopping at various different stalls and shops, picking out things to buy and bring back with them. Gwaine, always on the lookout for a good sword, often stopped to look at the different weapons the blacksmiths would display, and Gwen, still a seamstress at heart, never left the market without purchasing at least a little bit of material to make something with.
“Do you remember when we met?” Gwaine grinned at her, and presented her with a flower he’d bought from the woman they’d just passed.
“You must have a lot of those to hand out to any girl who catches your fancy.” Gwen laughed, as she accepted the flower.
“I only have eyes for you, your majesty.”
“I certainly hope not!” Gwen feigned shock. “My husband can be a very jealous man, you know.”
Gwaine heaved a dramatic sigh. “And the last thing I want is to fight him. It never seems to end well for either of us, when I do.”
“That sounds like a story you’ll have to tell me sometime.” Gwen stopped as they passed a seller with tables full of fabrics, and held up a piece of blue cloth. “Do you think this would suit Merlin?”
“I think Merlin will be the toast of the town in that shade, my lady.” Gwaine laughed. “Everyone will be jealous, and want to wear it.”
“Well, if that’s not a ‘yes,’ I don’t know what is.” Gwen had an order of the fabric to sent to the castle, then turned back to Gwaine. “Is there anywhere else you’d like to look before we go back?”
He shook his head. “No, I’ve already looked at all of the shiny things that caught my eye this afternoon.”
And with that, the two of them walked back to the castle, chatting about fabrics and how Merlin was going to bring blue back into fashion.
5
Gwen understood why Arthur wasn’t with her, but it didn’t stop her from being angry about it. And when a woman in labor was angry, everyone in the room knew about it.
“He’s on his way, Gwen, I promise.” Merlin was leaning against the wall, watching her pace. He’d been with Arthur on the border, setting a dispute with a neighboring kingdom and taking care of a bandit problem, but had returned the day before, sent ahead by Arthur, to see how Gwen was doing. “A messenger came this morning and said they were a few hours ride away—“
“This morning was a few hours ago.” Gwen glared at him, then immediately felt bad about it. She had no reason to be to angry with Merlin. “Sorry.”
Merlin shrugged it off. “Don’t worry about it. You’ve been at his for…how long now?”
“Too long.”
“Yes, well, anyway, you’ve been at this for a while now. You’ve earned the right to snap.” He frowned a little bit. “Speaking of how long you’ve been waiting, shouldn’t this be done yet?” He’d been waiting with her for what seemed like forever, and was ready for it all to be over and done with.
“These things take time, Merlin.” Gwen sat down on her bed, and leaned back against the headboard. “I don’t think it’ll be much longer, though.”
“With any luck, if he, or she, waits a little longer, their father might be around to be here when they come into the world.”
Right on cue, when he said that, things started to speed up, and, according to the midwife, Camelot’s future prince, or princess, was coming right now. Gwen gave a weak laugh. “You just had to say the word wait, didn’t you, Merlin? If you hadn’t noticed, princes aren’t really used to waiting for much of anything.”
Merlin went to her side, and squeezed her hand. “I did work for one for a long time. Do you still think it’s a prince?”
Gwen nodded, and squeezed his hand back. Hard. She was starting to think people were severely understating things when they talked about the pain of childbirth. “I’m sure of it.”
“So sure you’ll make a wager?”
“Is now really the best time for that, Merlin?”
“Just trying to lighten the mood.” He grinned at her, and dodged the pillow she threw at his head.
An hour and a half later, Merlin was sitting next to Gwen, who was gently rocking Camelot’s newest prince in her arms. He reached out and stroked his cheek, and smiled at Gwen. “He looks like you.”
“Only the hair. The rest looks like Arthur. ” She smiled back. “What was that you were saying about a wager earlier? Because I think I won.”
“We never actually made one, because you were too busy throwing things at me and demanding I get out. And then come back in.” He laughed. “And then get out again. And then come back in again--“
Gwen rolled her eyes. “I get it, Merlin.”
“Are you sure? Because you seemed really confused about whether or not you wanted me around when you kept ordering me out, and then back in.”
“If you keep it up, I’m going to make you leave again.”
Merlin busied himself with playing with the baby’s fingers. “My lips are sealed, your majesty.” The smile on his face grew when the baby gripped his finger. “Have you thought of a name yet?”
“There are a few we were thinking of, but we haven’t chosen anything yet.” She laughed at the goofy smile on Merlin’s face. “I’m sure Arthur will have an opinion when he returns.”
“I think, because I had to put up with nearly twenty-four hours of abuse from you, I should be the one to name him. What do you think of Hector?”
“You’re not naming my son, Merlin.” Gwen rolled her eyes again, laughing.
“I’m quite partial to ‘Merlin the second,’ personally.” He gave her another goofy smile, which made her laugh more.
“Perhaps his middle name.”
“Hector Merlin the Second Pendragon.” Merlin mused. “I like it.” He looked down at the baby. “I think Hector does, too.”
“I’m not naming him Hector.”
“I think Hector Merlin the Second might disagree with that.”
They were still laughing when Arthur burst into the room, breathing heavily and looking red. The sight of Arthur catching his breath made them laugh harder.
He gave them both a quizzical look. “What’s so funny?”
“Merlin thinks enduring twenty four hours of me yelling at him has earned him the right to name the child.”
“In my defense, she was really mean to me.” Merlin stood up, and proved that old habits die hard when he took Arthur’s cloak. “Gwen keeps telling me no.”
“That’s because Guinevere is smart enough to know better.” Arthur walked over to the bed, and sat down where Merlin had been sitting a moment ago. “How are you feeling?” He pushed some of Gwen’s hair out of her face, and kissed her on the cheek.
“Tired.” She admitted, gently putting the bundle of baby and cloth into his arms and leaning against him. “Arthur Pendragon, meet your son.”
Arthur was quiet for a while, staring at the baby, before he spoke up again. “I’m sorry I wasn’t here. I tried to get back in time.”
“I know. You’re here now, and that’s all that matters.” Gwen sank down into the bed, curling up against Arthur, where he sat. “And you sent Merlin, and I’m grateful for that.”
“Speaking of.” Arthur looked between Merlin, who was sitting in a chair a few feet away from the bed, and Gwen. “What did you want to name him?”
“Hector Merlin the Second Pendragon.” Gwen said through a yawn. “Don’t you dare agree to it.”
Now, it was Arthur’s turn to laugh. “Not a chance. Sorry, Merlin.”
“Maybe next time.” Merlin grinned at them, and stood up to leave. “It’s a great name.”
When he left, Arthur looked down at Gwen, who was half asleep. “What about Amhar?”
“It’s better than Hector Merlin the Second.”
“Amhar it is, then.”
