Guinevere met Arthur and Merlin shortly after graduation. Morgana dragged her to a club to celebrate both her new job at a prestigious fashion magazine and Guinevere getting her novel accepted by a moderate-sized publishing house.
As Gwen expected, Morgana was chatted up almost immediately by a tall, handsome stranger with curly hair and a bashful smile, leaving her alone at their small table, watching them gyrate on the dance floor.
She really didn't mind; she has always been content to sit in the shadows and watch her best friend shine in the limelight.
Arthur decided to approach her while Morgana and her beau were starting their third song. A slow one.
"It seems your friend has abandoned you." His smooth baritone voice in her ear both startled her and made her warm all over.
She turned and looked up into the most beautiful male face she had ever seen. "Oh… I… I don't mind," she dumbly answered after a second of gaping.
"You are far too beautiful to be hidden away in the corner like this," he said, offering his hand. "Dance with me."
Guinevere blinked. He wasn't asking, but somehow she knew he would not be upset if she refused. Her hand moved before she realized she had made her decision, coming to rest comfortably in his.
The smile he gave her then took her breath away.
"What is your name?" he asked once they were on the dance floor. He held her right hand in his left with his right hand on her waist, dancing relatively formally in the sea of couples grinding together. His embrace was warm and reassuringly strong.
"Guinevere. Most people call me Gwen," she answered, leaning forward a bit so he could hear her.
"Guinevere," he repeated, causing that warmth to course over her again. "I'm Arthur."
She smiled. "So, Arthur, what do you do?"
"Oh, this and that," he noncommittally answered. "I dabble in several different business ventures. Do some consulting."
"How very vague of you," she replied.
"Thank you," he countered, not bothered in the slightest by her barb. In fact, it seemed to encourage him, because he pulled her closer. "You smell divine," he said. "Almost good enough to eat."
She blinked again, surprised, then decided to pretend he didn't just say that. "I'm a writer," she volunteered, cursing the slight quaver in her voice.
"What do you write?" he asked, sounding genuinely interested.
"I just had my first novel accepted for publishing," she answered. "Morgana and I – that's my friend, Morgana – are supposed to be celebrating."
"Oh, she's celebrating all right," Arthur commented, turning them so she could see Morgana and her man quite busily making out while they thought they were still dancing.
Guinevere sighed. "She just met him tonight."
"That's Leon. He's a good bloke," he informed.
"You know him?" She paused. "That was a dumb question."
He laughed, his blue eyes crinkling at the corners. "Yes, I know him. He's in Marketing at Albion Corp."
"One of your business ventures?"
"I work with them from time to time, yes," he answered. Then he leaned in closer and said, "I also own half this club."
"Is that supposed to impress me?" she countered. The music changed back to a fast song, so he led her from the dance floor. Instead of going back to her table, they went through a door into a private room.
"It's much quieter here," he explained. "And don't worry, I've no plans to defile you. Not against your will, anyway," he added with a wink.
Her eyes widened, but she could not shake the feeling that she could trust him. "Okay," she finally replied.
"No," he said, pulling a chair out for her.
"No?"
"No, my part-ownership of this club is not supposed to impress you," he clarified, sitting beside her. "I told you that because I know my partner would like to meet you."
"Oh," she dumbly answered, absently wondering what his definition of the word "partner" was.
Just then a pale, thin man with black hair, oversized ears, and bright blue eyes sauntered into the room. He was carrying three drinks in his large hands: one glass of white wine and two bloody Marys. He set the wine down in front of Guinevere. "Hello," he simply said as he sat.
"Hello," she replied. "Thank you," she added, indicating the drink. She took a sip and found it was the same kind she had been drinking at the table.
"You're welcome. Tired of this prat yet?" he asked, his voice bearing a rather musical Irish lilt.
"Um…"
"Merlin," Arthur sighed, rolling his eyes. "Guinevere, this is Merlin. My business partner."
Merlin smiled, lighting up his whole face. It was the kind of smile that one feels compelled to return, and Guinevere found herself automatically doing so. "Nice to meet you, Merlin."
"Very nice indeed," Merlin agreed, briefly clasping her hand. His hand was cold, but Guinevere chalked it up to the fact that he was just carrying drinks.
"Now. Tell us about this book of yours," Arthur said, leaning closer to her.
-Eight Months Later-
Guinevere stares, wide-eyed, at her two best friends, looking down at her. She isn't sure what to make of this news, isn't sure if she is dreaming. "What?" she asks.
"Well, why do you think we're always inside?" Merlin replies. "You honestly never noticed that if we do go out, it's at night?"
She dumbly shakes her head. "No," she whispers.
Arthur sits beside her on the couch and brushes an errant curl away from her face, his fingers trailing down her cheek. "Have you ever seen us actually eat anything, Love?" he asks.
Am I that blind? That stupid? "Bloody Marys… God, I'm dumb," she says.
"Don't forget the sausages," Arthur adds, grinning.
She looks at him. "Black pudding," she says, shaking her head.
"Of course."
"You're not frightened?" Merlin asks, taking a seat on the other side of her.
She looks back and forth between them, Merlin on her left, Arthur on her right. Their friendship has been firm and close – very close – since that night at the club. She feels like she's known them her whole life. And here they are, dropping this enormous bomb on her.
An enormous, unbelievable bomb.
But am I frightened? No. Not of them.
"Vampires aren't real," she whispers.
Arthur dramatically gasps, looking over at Merlin, his face a mask of alarm. "Oh, no! Merlin, did you hear that? We're not real!"
"Oh, okay. I guess we'll bugger off then," Merlin jovially replies, and both men begin to stand.
"No!" Guinevere exclaims, reaching out with each hand to block her friends from getting up. She jerks her hands away when she realizes she's grabbed each of them by the thigh.
Arthur chuckles, takes her hand, and puts it back, placing his own over it.
She looks at him, eyes like saucers.
"Gwen," Merlin says, and she turns to look at him. "We want you to be with us."
"What?" she repeats. Is he asking what I think he is?
"Forever," Arthur adds.
Oh. He's not asking what I think he is. She's not sure if she's disappointed or relieved. It's not like the thought never crossed my mind… "You mean…?"
"We can make you like us," Merlin explains, reaching up to brush her dark curls away from her neck. "That's why we told you our secret."
"So… I'd be like you… with you… forever?" she asks.
"Yes," Arthur replies, leaning in to nuzzle into her hair. "I am going to miss this smell though," he murmurs.
Guinevere's right side erupts in gooseflesh at Arthur's attention and she almost turns and kisses him,
"Gwen?" Merlin prompts.
She looks over at him and sees his fangs for the first time. She's not sure if she never noticed them, if he can conceal them, or if they appear when the occasion calls for it. All she knows is she kind of likes the way they look on him.
"Please, Guinevere," Arthur softly begs, softly running his thumb over the back of her hand.
Her family is dead. Morgana has moved to Paris (with Leon) to be closer to the fashion scene. She works from home and has very few close friends apart from the two men currently flanking her.
Two men who are offering her an eternity by their side.
Her life has been quiet and uninteresting. A life of blending into the background and shying away from the spotlight.
Now she has a chance to make her life interesting… while still being able to shy away from the spotlight.
With Arthur. And Merlin.
And Arthur. Arthur, whose absentminded caresses on the back of her hand are making it very difficult to think clearly.
"Yes," she whispers. "I want to be with you… both of you… forever."
Merlin happily grins. Arthur makes a low groaning noise of longing that resonates through to Guinevere's core.
Then they descend on her, leaning her back against the couch as they each take a side of her neck.
Guinevere gasps and clutches their thighs again. It doesn't hurt; just the opposite. It feels amazing. It's the single most sensual, erotic experience of her life.
She never feels their teeth pierce her skin, only the soft sucking of their lips and tongues on her sensitive neck. Did they even…? She quickly begins to feel lightheaded.Oh… yes, I guess so…
She is vaguely aware of the hungry noises coming from both men as they feast on her blood. She faintly feels a large, strong hand on her breast, and somehow knows it is Arthur's. She hears a soft gasp and assumes it is her own.
The intense feelings of pleasure increase until, just before everything goes black, she orgasms, fingers of one hand clutching high up on Arthur's thigh, the other tangled in Merlin's hair.
xXx
Guinevere doesn't know how long she has been unconscious, but the first thing she notices is something warm pressed to her lips.
"Drink."
The voice seems to come from far away and inside her head at the same time, and, in her hazy state, she automatically obeys it, sealing her mouth around the warm thing and sucking.
"Mmm," she hums as she slowly starts to regain full consciousness. She doesn't know what she is drinking, but she doesn't much care, because it is the most delicious thing she's ever had.
When it is pulled away from her mouth, she chases it, making an undignified whimpering noise. She opens her eyes and sees a pale arm moving away from her.
"Here, hungry girl," a different voice says. "Have some more."
This time she feels her body pulled over against something hard, and her lips land against something larger, warmer, and even sweeter. She sucks it in, moaning blissfully.
The first offering was incredible, but this? This is ambrosia.
"I think she likes you better," the first voice says.
"Mmm," the second agrees. "Watch her so she doesn't drain me," he adds. "But… God… I might not mind going this way, bloody hell."
A chuckle. "Cabbage head."
The insult jogs something in Guinevere's memory. She finds the will to pull her lips away from her glorious feast. She licks her lips, then focuses her eyes enough to see she's been sucking on a neck. Then she sees golden blonde hair.
"Arthur," she exhales, finally able to focus enough to see him. She hesitantly reaches up and touches his face. "Arthur."
"Yes, Love," he replies. "How do you feel?"
"Groggy," she replies, turning to look at Merlin. She reaches over and wraps her fingers around his wrist, where she can see a wound quickly healing. "That was you," she whispers.
"Yes," Merlin replies. "You had to drink from us to make the change happen. Well, you only needed to drink from one, but since we both bit you, it seemed fair to reciprocate."
"That way we all belong to each other," Arthur says.
"Oh," she responds, not knowing what else to say. Then she notices she is on Arthur's lap. "Oh… I…"
He doesn't let her move. "Guinevere," he says. "I've been waiting for eight months to be able to do this."
"Do what?" she asks, but his lips are already coming towards hers.
"This," he murmurs just before he kisses her.
She squeaks in surprise but quickly settles in, clearly having wanted this as well. She's had several interesting dreams about both Arthur and Merlin during the course of their friendship, but mostly Arthur. She was never brave enough to make the first move, but always hoped he would indicate he felt something more than friendship for her.
He never did. Now she knows why.
She can feel the sharpness of his teeth with her tongue, and curious, probes her own teeth to find they have already changed.
"Why do you think we wanted you to join us?" Arthur asks, leaning his head against hers for a moment before another set of fingers gently encourage her to turn her head.
"Merlin," she says, smiling at him just before he kisses her as well.
His kiss is different. It is tender and sweet, less passionate, but still sends a delicious thrill through her.
"We have both loved you since the first night we met you," Arthur says.
"Especially him," Merlin adds. "Head over heels, he is. Sorry."
Guinevere laughs, leaning against Arthur. "But you couldn't do anything about it until I…?"
"You were far too tempting a morsel to have risked it," Arthur answers, brushing his lips against her neck. "I considered simply… snacking from you from time to time, but…"
"I wouldn't let him," Merlin says, kissing her hand. "I knew he wouldn't be able to stop at snacking." He turns her hand and places a sucking kiss on the inside of her wrist. "Not that I blame him. You were the most delicious meal I've ever had."
"Without question," Arthur agrees, his face still buried in her hair, teasing her neck. "And you still smell divine."
Guinevere shyly smiles, looking down. Then she looks up, first at Arthur, then Merlin, and says, "I love you, too. Both of you." As she says the words, the truth of them truly hits her. She does love them both. Merlin is kind and a little shy, both an open book yet slightly mysterious, and he makes her feel like she is important. Arthur is surprisingly sweet and gentle, brave yet vulnerable, and he makes her feel like she is beautiful. What woman could ask for more?
The smiles they give her in response to her declaration prompt her to kiss them each in turn once more, and their conversation ends for a time while they explore each other.
xXx
"When you said that we all belong to each other… how do you two belong to one another?" Guinevere asks, now lying between them. Somehow they wound up on a bed in one of the bedrooms in the massive estate the two men share.
"Merlin changed me, if you can believe it," Arthur explains, his fingers stroking her bare hip.
"Only because you were the only real friend I had ever had. And you were nearly dead," Merlin quickly adds, unnecessarily defending his actions.
"The plague was a real bugger," Arthur agrees.
"You've been around since the time of the plague?" Guinevere asks, shocked.
"Don't tease her, Arthur, she's still adjusting," Merlin says, reaching over Gwen with his foot to kick him in the shin, but his bare toes have little effect. "He was dying of a gaping stomach wound in an abandoned foxhole."
"World War I," Arthur explains. "Merlin found me after my unit bugged out… I ordered them to leave me there, and they did. Bloody traitors."
"You were their Captain, clotpole," Merlin points out. "You gave an order and they followed. That's how the military works."
"Yes, thank you, Merlin, I am familiar with the concept," Arthur sighs.
"What were you doing in the war?" Guinevere asks Merlin.
"At that time, I was looking for Arthur. I had been attempting to keep a low profile by working in one of the locals. Wiping tables, mopping up vomit, washing dishes, that kind of thing. I was also feigning mute as a way to explain why I wasn't fighting in the war. This idiot took notice of me and befriended me, despite my best efforts. When his men came back without him, I had to go find him," Merlin explained.
"And neither of us were ever seen again," Arthur adds, striving for a mysterious tone.
Guinevere giggles, then says, "So you are over 100 years old then?"
"I will be 126 this fall," he answers. "And you are just 25, my love. I have waited a century for you." He kisses her once, sweetly.
"How old are you, Merlin?" she asks.
"I was born in the year 506," Merlin says with a sigh.
"Oh my God," Guinevere replies. "That means you're…"
"I am 1511 years old, yes," he confirms. I don't know my actual birthday, so we mark it on New Year's Day."
"Fine enough day for a Pagan to have a birthday," Arthur points out.
"Well, it was either that or Samhain, which is always a party," Merlin says.
"How did you become like this?" Guinevere asks. "Who changed you?"
Merlin looks at her, then glances at Arthur once before turning his attention back to her. "I don't know," he says. "All I know is I woke up one night and found myself thus. I don't know how long I was out. I did dabble with magic a bit during my life, but I don't know if I inadvertently did this to myself or if someone broke in and—"
"You did more than dabble, mate," Arthur interjects. "Guinevere, you should hear some of the things he's done. It's bloody amazing."
"Wait, wait, wait…" Guinevere says, holding her hands up. She sits up slightly and looks down at Merlin. "Merlin," she says. "Like Merlin Merlin? The mythical wizard Merlin?"
He gives her a slightly guilty look and a half-shrug.
"Why are you always old in the legends? You know, long white beard and all that?" she asks.
"Because it makes me look more mysterious. The pointy hat was a stroke of genius," he says, trying to hide his grin.
"You perpetrated that?" she asks.
Arthur gently pulls her back down. "Of course he did. Right nutter, this one," he says. He snuggles against her side, his hand still absently straying over her skin like he is unable to stop touching her.
"You're going to live here with us, right?" Merlin suddenly asks, changing the subject. He places his head on her shoulder like a puppy looking for attention.
Guinevere kisses his forehead. "Of course I will. I suppose you have a coffin all ready for me?"
The two men laugh. "No coffins," Arthur says. "The bedrooms have light-blocking shades. You may choose any room you like and make it yours."
Her brow furrows. "I can't sleep in here with you?"
"Well, you can, but Arthur and I are old and strong enough to move about during the day, as long as we stay indoors. It will be a while before you'll be able to do so," Merlin answers.
"Oh," she replies, pouting.
"You are adorable when you pout," Arthur says, kissing her pursed lips.
"We have our own rooms, because sometimes you need your own space," Merlin explains.
"Even though most of the time we sleep together. When we do sleep," Arthur adds.
"Oh," she repeats, smiling now. "Who's room is this?" she asks. "Wait. Let me guess." She's only been in their house a handful of times, and has never been upstairs. They always came to her flat, because it is closer to everything. Their substantial manor is well out of town and extremely secluded, and now she knows why. She looks around the room. "Arthur's."
"Yes," Arthur answers, pleased she knows him so well.
She kisses his smugly smiling face, then asks, "What time is it now?"
"It's just gone midnight," Merlin answers.
"Oh, good," she says, attempting to rise.
"What? Why? Where are you going?" Arthur asks.
She manages to climb over the more cooperative Merlin and stands, facing them, with her hands on her hips, completely unconcerned about her nakedness. "I'm hungry."