Title: Annwyl Gyfaill
Category: Gen (Canon)
Characters/Pairings: Merlin, Gwen, Morgana
Rating/Warnings: K+
Summary: Believing that Gwen and a certain loyal servant are perfect for one another, Morgana takes it upon herself to play matchmaker. Things don't exactly go as planned.
Set during Series 1 between episodes four and five.

Author's Note: The title of this story is Welsh for "dear friend."

Annwyl Gyfaill

"Why don't you leave that until tomorrow, Gwen?"

"My lady?" she looked up in surprise, then frowned in confusion as she glanced at the overflowing basket of clean laundry beside her. "Really, it's no trouble. It won't take me long to put it away."

Morgana smiled and waved a dismissive hand. "Your duties can wait until morning. Come here."

She made her way over to the dressing table, then stared at her reflection in bewilderment as the other woman urged her to sit down and began to fiddle with her hair. After a few quick adjustments, her simple bun was released, replaced by a riot of unruly curls that perfectly framed her delicate features.

"There, that's better! But what are we going to do about these clothes? There's dust all over you, and what is this? Water spots? Oh no, this isn't going to work!"

Why is she suddenly so concerned with the way I look? Gwen wondered curiously, as Morgana hurried over to her dresser and produced an old gown she hadn't worn in ages. Is there some court function I've forgotten about?

"Put it on," Morgana demanded, and she saw no choice but to cooperate. The deep blue satin felt good against her skin, but the bodice was cut too low and fit her much more tightly than it should have. She looked down at her half exposed breasts, then blushed and raised a hand to cover herself.

"Hmmm. It's a little snug, but under the circumstances, that might not be such a bad thing."

Gwen watched Morgana in confusion as she turned away and attempted to hide a grin. It was clear she was being prepared for something, but what? If there were a banquet or something similar that evening, spare serving uniforms were easily accessible within the palace. Why would Morgana be dressing her in her own clothing?

"My lady, may I ask...?"

"You might, but we're running out of time," the other woman interrupted a little hastily, throwing an arm around Gwen's shoulders and propelling her toward the door. "You're dismissed. Go on home, Gwen. You'll find out soon enough."

Despite her curiosity over Morgana's peculiar behavior, Gwen left without further question. She hurried through the corridors of the palace, crossing her arms in front of her chest and flushing in embarrassment as the eyes of nearly every male she passed widened at the sight of her exposed cleavage. Even Prince Arthur paused to take a second look, though he quickly focused his attention elsewhere when she gave him an impatient scowl.

After deciding not to stop and visit her father at his forge, she arrived home and let herself inside with a sigh of relief. Hastily, she began to unfasten the clasps that held her bodice together, only to let out a gasp of fright as someone awkwardly cleared their throat at her back.

"George!" she squeaked, grabbing a shawl to cover herself before whirling around to face him. "What on earth are you doing here?!"

The bland faced servant wore the same expression he always did, despite the fact that she'd very nearly stripped her clothes off right in front of him. "I've scrubbed the floor, dusted the furniture, washed the dishes, laundered the linens, and prepared your dinner," he rattled off in a monotone voice.

"What...?"

"Herb roasted chicken with rosemary, fresh-baked bread with honey butter, a vegetable medley simmered in a delicate white sauce with dill, and..."

She raised a hand to stop him. "No, I can see all that. But why?"

"The Lady Morgana instructed me to make your home ready for a romantic evening. Are the flowers arranged to your satisfaction? Do you require more candles? Would you like to sit down and have a glass of wine?"

She shook her head in disbelief. Morgana's secrecy, her barely suppressed excitement, the way she'd fussed over her appearance; suddenly, it all made sense. A romantic evening... obviously, she'd taken it upon herself to interfere in Gwen's nonexistent love life, which wasn't all that surprising, really.

But why would she have chosen George of all people? Not that there was anything wrong with him, of course, but they'd never even spoken beyond absolute necessity.

Gwen sighed in resignation, realizing she couldn't avoid the uncomfortable situation without being discourteous and possibly hurting George's feelings. Affecting a friendly smile, she gestured at the empty chair on the other side of the table.

"George, everything you've done looks wonderful," she said pleasantly. "Why don't you relax and join me?"

It was the first time she'd ever seen him look perturbed. "I-I, I don't think..." he stuttered, pulling his shoulders up in a stiff, formal pose. "No, that would not be appropriate. If there's nothing else you require, I must be on my way back to the palace to resume my normal duties. Your suitor should be arriving any minute now. Enjoy your evening."

Gwen felt relieved as she bid George farewell, but as she closed the door behind him, she couldn't help but wonder who she should be expecting in his stead. After giving the matter some thought, she finally decided it didn't matter either way. Her natural shyness and total inexperience with men would no doubt guarantee an awkward evening.

Just as she'd lowered her head to stare in consternation at her revealing attire, deciding it would be best to change into something a little more appropriate, there was a loud knock . Too late now, she sighed to herself, tugging ineffectually at the low neckline before opening the door to greet her unknown guest.

"Merlin!" she exclaimed happily. "What brings you here?"

He fidgeted awkwardly, then thrust a wilted bouquet of daisies in her general direction. "Morgana said you'd be expecting me at seven. I'm not late, am I?"

"Oh no," Gwen muttered to herself, shaking her head in disbelief. "She didn't..."

Merlin frowned in response to her visible displeasure. "I'm sorry about the flowers," he told her sheepishly. "Arthur ordered me to go down to the stables and muck out his horses right after I picked them, and I didn't have a chance to put them in water until was too late to make a difference."

"No, Merlin, the flowers are fine. It's just... I... what did Morgana tell you?"

Gwen didn't realize she'd dropped her arms until there was a low, appreciative whistle from the other side of the street. Merlin heard it, too, and his eyes nearly popped out of his head as he realized exactly what it was the small group of craftsmen were gawking at.

"Let's go inside," she said hastily.

To Merlin's credit, he managed to tear his gaze away from her chest once they were indoors, but that was only to stare in disbelief at the dozens of burning pillars, the fine displays of perfectly arranged flowers, and the sumptuous meal that was laid out on the simple wooden table.

"Wow..." he said quietly. "You went to a lot of trouble, Gwen. And all the while, I didn't even know you..."

She flushed in embarrassment. There was no denying that she'd fancied Merlin in the past, but her small crush was nothing compared with the impression she must be giving him now. Thanks to Morgana's tendency to go overboard, it must seem as if she was on the verge of proposing to him!

"I just... just sit down, Merlin," she said abruptly, then realized how rude she must have sounded and forced a pleasant smile. "What I mean is, will you please have a seat?"

Neither of them spoke as they settled themselves at the table, staring down at their platesas if they were the most fascinating thing in the world. The food smelled delicious, but she had little appetite thanks to her overwhelming anxiety. She risked a glance at Merlin after a few minutes, trying to see what he was doing without actually having to meet his eyes.

His gaze was fixed on her breasts again.

She cleared her throat rather abruptly, then attempted to cover herself without seeming as if she were trying to do so by reaching for her glass of wine.

The goblet went flying across the table, splashing Merlin's tunic with rich, red liquid before it hit the floor and shattered.

"I'm sorry! Oh, Merlin, I'm so sorry! Here, let me help you!" She jumped out of her chair, hurrying over to dab at the mess she'd made with an old cleaning rag. "Oh, it's no use. I've ruined it!"

"It's all right, Gwen," he said, giving her a reassuring smile as he rose and pulled off the garment. "It'll come out after a good soaking. Trust me, I have to do it all the time for Arthur. You wouldn't believe what a slob he is. Not... not that I'm saying you're a slob, just that..."

He trailed off, looking distinctly embarrassed.

She smacked her forehead. "Of course! How could I forget something so obvious? Well, nevermind. Come on, I'm sure my father has a shirt you can borrow for the night."

Merlin followed her to the other side of the room, then fidgeted awkwardly as she bent down to rummage through a box of clothing that was stored underneath the bed.

To Gwen's horror, there was suddenly a loud ripping noise, and the constricting fabric that had barely contained her breasts to begin with was gone. In its place, a draft of cool air caressed her bare skin.

"Oh no, oh no..." she muttered in humiliation. "As if this night could get any worse."

And then Merlin started to laugh.

She glared at him over her shoulder as she crouched awkwardly on the floor in her too tight gown. Taking a deep breath, she prepared to let him know exactly what she thought of his unsympathetic response to her plight… only to be met with the sound of a second loud tear.

Merlin howled in amusement.

"It's not funny, Merlin," she managed from between gritted teeth.

But when she looked at him again, her embarrassment slowly melted away. As soon as she saw the familiar twinkle in his eye, any further thought of their strange, uncomfortable predicament faded into nothing, replaced by all the reminders as to why she normally felt so at ease in his presence. He was as awkward as she was, after all, and would never think negatively of her for her less than graceful moments.

Unable to help herself, Gwen started to giggle.

A few minutes later, they were sitting across from each other at the table again, although the strained discomfort they'd felt before was gone. The mess had been cleared away, and Gwen was clad in her familiar yellow dress, glad to feel like herself for the first time all evening.

Merlin polished off the last of his chicken, then met her eyes with an easy grin.

"It didn't seem like you, you know. The flowers, candles, the fancy dress. Didn't feel like you at all."

She shot him an offended look. "I'm not that simple, Merlin. I like nice things as much as any other girl."

"No, I didn't mean it like that," he said, pausing to take a large gulp of wine. "I only meant that I can't see you arranging something elaborate like this to let someone know you had feelings for them. You're too honest for that, Gwen. I'm sure you'd just tell them."

She studied him quietly. In a way, he was right; she wasn't the type to plan the seduction scene that Morgana had put in place. But Merlin probably wasn't factoring in the shyness that made it so difficult for her to be speak out about certain things, even if it was normally her instinctive response to be straightforward about how she felt.

Suddenly, she realized that if there were ever a time to confess any feelings beyond friendship, this was it. She opened her mouth, then closed it again when the words wouldn't come. Why couldn't she say it?

They gazed at each other in silence, each searching the other's face for a few endless heartbeats.

And then Merlin rose to his feet and came to stand beside her chair, kneeling down and gently cupping her cheek in the palm of his hand. She held her breath as she stared up at him, then closed her eyes as he covered her mouth with his own.

Nothing.

The kiss was warm, soft, even quite pleasant, but that was all. No shiver skittered up her spine, no sense of longing overtook her senses. She felt as she usually did – calm, rational, filled with the friendly affection she'd always felt toward him. No new feelings were awakened in her heart, and she knew in that moment they never would be. Not for Merlin.

When he pulled back, the relief on his face seemed to mirror the way she felt inside. It was an unspoken question that had always lingered between them, and now, they finally had their answer. It was their fate to be friends, dear friends, but nothing more. And despite the disappointment she would've felt if she'd come to that conclusion sooner than she had, now there was only gratitude between them as they shared an understanding smile.

"Morgana will be so disappointed," she giggled, feeling warm inside as his face broke into a huge grin.

Someday both she and Merlin would find the person they were genuinely meant fall in love with; it was immensely comforting to know they'd be there to support each other when that time came.

No unspoken questions, no jealousy, and no regrets.