May 2013
Author's Note: I shipped Mergwen so damn hard in season one. Even though I'm still confused by my Arwen feels, and don't even get me started on Merthur! XD Hehe anyway, please read and enjoy, and p'raps even a review:)
Tom was dead.
And there were no airy words of comfort, no sympathetic voices soothing that he was in a better place. The only noises piercing through the fog of Guinevere's numbed mind were her own shrill screams at the sight of the bloody burlap sack containing the last of her beloved father- wheeled off on a cart like scraps of putrid rubbish from the Wednesday market.
Strong arms had grabbed her when she tripped through the muddy courtyard after her father's body, and Gwen whirled around to look to the drawn, grim face of Sir Leon. His hazel eyes conveyed sadness, but with a jolt, Gwen realized he couldn't be seen comforting her- he was still a servant of the king.
The king who had torn an innocent man from his life and a father from his daughter. He was probably enjoying a rich evening meal at this very moment, while Gwen sobbed in the dirt.
Townspeople had watched the scene sympathetically but scared. Leon pulled the hood of Gwen's cloak low over her face and quickly marched her to her now empty house.
Leon had left immediately still silent, and now Gwen sat on her low bed in the failing light, alone with despair so immense she feared it would swallow her whole. Fear of Uther's guard was too great for even her closest friends to come and console her-
Or so she thought until there came a knock at the door.
Merlin let himself in before Gwen could even react and got straight to work setting a bright, crackling fire on the hearth and illuminating the room with a couple fat wax candles he pulled from his pocket. He then pulled a carefully wrapped parcel from the bag slung over his shoulder that turned out to be a loaf of bread, a couple wrinkled winter apples and a few slices of ham that would've in another life made Gwen's stomach growl with anticipation.
Now though, she ate mechanically and lightly. Gwen pushed her dish away and met Merlin's gaze over the table. The tragic understanding in his eyes made her own blur with tears.
"You should rest," he advised softly.
"I am tired," Gwen admitted. "But I- I fear to be alone."
"You don't have to be."
Merlin rose from the bench and proffered his hand. Gwen took it, surprised at how wonderful the human contact felt.
Merlin blew out the candles as he led her to the bed and then settled himself on it, leaving the reassuring flames of the fireplace the only source of light. Gwen hesitated for a moment-she'd once harbored a childish fancy for Merlin, of course, though she'd hardly imagined clambering into bed with him the night of her father's death. But then she met his deep blue gaze, and found quiet love rather than red lust. Gwen slid off her leather slippers and tucked herself against him.
"Sleep," he breathed, pressing a very gentle kiss against her temple.
Oh, how she wanted to fall into the promising arms of exhaustion, but despair throbbed in her mind like a knife wound.
"Merlin," Gwen implored, her voice scarcely above a whisper. "You always seem to know what to do. Tell me-
Her resolve broke again, and Merlin waited patiently for her trembling lips to form comprehensible words.
"Tell me," Gwen restarted. "What does one do when the entire world is turned to night?"
"Gwen," Merlin breathed, hugging her more tightly to him. She buried her face in that faded scarf he always wore and let herself be enveloped by the mossy, leathery scent exuding from his pale neck, let herself melt into the strong circle of his arms.
"You find the people who love you, and you wait out the darkness together," he said simply.
Dawn crept through the little window to find them still curled together, each clinging to a beacon in a cold world of night. Despite it all, Guinevere smiled through her tears to feel the morning sunshine caress her face.