As is wont to happen during lazy walks around the castle grounds, Arthur found himself in a bout of introspective musings. He would never verbally admit it, but this was perhaps the first time Arthur had been truly hurt by someone's rejection of friendship, which isn't to say that this was the first time that it had happened, as it had happened many times before, but the circumstances this time around were different. When he was very young, not being friends with someone, whether it was a serving youth or a visiting noble's child, was a sadness that only lasted a few minutes. There were always other things to occupy a child's young mind and a durable friendship wasn't so incredibly important. Even when Arthur was old enough to start befriending squires with full knowledge of how a friendship truly worked, he could still console himself with the smug fact that he was a prince and they were not. Or, if his friend-to-be was a prince or princess, they were simply not one of Camelot. Vanity neatly covered such a hole in a young, pre-teen Arthur who was struggling to find himself in the nuanced and chaotic world of court.
But Arthur was no longer so young or naïve. He understood that being a prince didn't simply solve problems. Instead, he was now left to the frustratingly mature reaction of attempting to sort and face his feelings. Merlin had probably been his first real friend if he had to say so. Sure he had Morgana, but they were practically siblings and so their friendship tended to supersede such trivialities. But Merlin was different. He was an outsider, ignorant of most of the ways of Camelot and even Arthur's station, but they became friends. Good friends, he would venture, though he would never admit it to the dark haired man himself. Thus his realization that he had lost one of the first meaningful relationships of his young adult life effectively dampened Arthur's mood for the vast majority of the day. And as his feet finally placed him before the dusty and musty doorway that marked the archives, he sighed; an afternoon in the old room would do nothing for his spirits either. Resigned but with a hint of lingering Pendragon determination and a will to ignore the morning's events, Arthur pushed his way into the room.
The archives fared much as Arthur had expected. Well, he mentally corrected, perhaps worse. He had been sitting at a dusty table, sneezing sporadically, as he was forced to listen to the mouth-breathing archivist respire in the background for nearly an hour. He had to stifle the urge to scream.
"Well," the prince said to himself as he pushed himself up from the creaking and stiffly uncomfortable bench, "I think I'm about done here." He nodded curtly to the offending archivist, who was blissfully unaware of his grating presence on the prince, and walked back into the light of high noon. He blinked rapidly, hand instinctively rising to shade the sun, before the world slowly came back into focus.
"Well, well, well," came a familiarly feminine voice. "I would never have expected to see you willingly emerge from an archive, sire."
Arthur smiled as his vision cleared and the blurred features before him sharpened into the smiling face of Guinevere.
"It's not entirely of my own volition," Arthur answered easily. "My father would have my head if I forgot any of our visiting guests' names tonight."
"So quick to think you're in the clear," Gwen noted with good-natured smile. "The day's still young, you know."
At this Arthur simply smiled and fell into step with the enigmatic serving girl. He was grateful for her presence and her wit as it provided some sense of normalcy to his day. Of course, part of his mind dipped into the process of reevaluating his feelings for the woman, but he quickly halted that line of thought for the time being.
"So," began Gwen, fiddling with the ends of the clothes that she was currently carting about. "Care to share what's on your mind? I doubt your dwelling on the names and famed histories of the families that you just studied."
Arthur once again felt his lips quirk into a smile. Clever and incredibly perceptive. Gwen was always good company.
"You're right on that front," started Arthur, realizing that he might have to summon some tact before he simply blurted his woes to a woman he was still half wooing in some sense. Or was he?
"Aaand?" prompted Gwen, shooting a quick gaze his way, one eyebrow lifted.
"And, what?" Arthur deflected. "I just emerged from hours of study in the archives. My mind is simply spent."
"Well, if the future king's mind is 'simply spent' after only a few hours of concentrated thinking," began Gwen, mischievous glint hiding subtly in her eyes, "than Camelot might want to start searching for a new ruler."
"Careful, Gwen," Arthur taunted before dropping his voice to a stage whisper. "I could charge you for treason."
Gwen laughed, a pleasant, rich sound that soothed the rest of Arthur's irritated nerves. He looked over at Gwen and held her gaze a moment as her eyes shifted back to him. Definitely good company.
"A particularly enlightened jest, I must admit it," said Gwen, the lingering smile on her face still coloring her words with a distinctly happy tone. "But you still haven't answered my question. What exactly are you thinking about?"
Ah, Arthur chided himself, subconsciously shaking his head as he centered his thoughts. Tact.
"Merlin and I had a bit of a disagreement this morning is all," he said neutrally, waving his hand in a vain attempt to say, See? All is fine. But Gwen simply leveled a look at Arthur.
"What?" he protested.
"You're a horrible liar, Arthur," Gwen stated simply, although there was a touch of admiration in her voice. Arthur was oblivious to it.
"I am not," he said mock indignation. "I've been fooling my father into thinking I'll be a great king for years now."
Gwen shook her head, smile still there, but tempered by a determined curiosity.
"Self-deprecating humor will only get you so far around me," started Gwen simply, pausing as she had steered them to a more private area of the courtyard. "And your deflective jokes, if amusing, have worn out their welcome."
Arthur felt a bit of a blush rise at this frank evaluation but kept his face neutral. He waited for Gwen to continue, but as she stared at him with a look that clearly told him to be out with it already, Arthur sighed.
"Alright, so perhaps it was more than a slight misunderstanding," began Arthur.
Gwen signed and rolled her eyes as if Arthur had said something terribly obvious. "The fact that he isn't with you now made that clear enough," said Gwen, annoyance starting to barely brush her words.
"Right," said Arthur dumbly, struggling to recapture the train of thought that he had. "Well, you see, I, uh, might have done something to…offend him," Arthur managed, hoping that he had picked his words well enough. "He has elected to take a break from his services for the time being."
Gwen's eyebrows momentarily shot up before she schooled them back into a relatively neutral look. Of course, Arthur saw the action and inwardly swore. He would need to brush up on his rhetoric.
"A break?" echoed Gwen in disbelief, giving a small sniff of skepticism at the end of the question. "And you simply let him do it?"
Arthur shifted his weight to his other foot. "I, uh…well, yes."
Gwen seemed to mull this information over, fingers once again returning to the fabric in her hand. "An odd choice," Gwen started slowly, "but perhaps the best one. It seems he won't be talking to you anytime soon?"
Bloody perceptive, this one, Arthur inwardly swore as he felt suddenly exposed by her keenly aware response. Am I always such an open book?
"Are you concerned?" she asked at the prince's silence.
Arthur had to pause on that one. His first instinct was to respond with a resounding yes. But a second voice quickly reminded him that giving such an enthusiastic response to anyone would perhaps not be the wisest choice. He took another moment before he settled on an answer.
"Do you believe I have reason to be?" Arthur asked with as much dispassion as he could muster.
"No," said Gwen, an echo of a smile just ghosting her lips. "The two of you are practically like brothers. I doubt he'll leave you for too long."
"What if he does?" Arthur found himself saying before he realized it. "What if he decides that I've really offended him? How would I…" Arthur trailed as the question died on his tongue. What exactly did he want to know? How he would win him back? Prove his worth? His maturity?
Gwen came to his aid, intuiting the question easily. "Respect, Arthur," she offered gently, unused to seeing the future king so flustered. "Common civility and respect can go a long way. You, of all people, should know that."
Of course Arthur had known that, but the answer to him seemed too simple. Respect? Would that be enough to win back his friend's favor?
What's the worst that could happen? he thought. It couldn't hurt to try.
A single peal of a bell tore both Arthur and Gwen from their thoughts. Was it truly one o'clock already?
"Oh, bugger it!" swore Gwen before she promptly flushed and lifted a hand to cover her mouth. Arthur's lips twisted into an almost obscenely amused smile.
"My lord! Please, I-I," Gwen stuttered as she tried to form an apology.
"You're late, I presume?" Arthur supplied with a subtly flippant raise of an eyebrow.
"Yes," said Gwen with a reflexive half curtsy. "I need to attend to Lady Morgana."
"Of course," said Arthur. "Do tell my sister that I send my regards."
Gwen merely shot him an annoyed look before offering a quick, "My lord," curtsying once again, and scurrying off. Arthur smiled at her retreating form as she deftly darted through a few meandering nobles on her way to the steps. He enjoyed spending time with Gwen, he deduced, regardless of the status of his feelings for her, although their interaction had admittedly persuaded Arthur to believe that they were quite strong. But the unbidden image of Merlin and his tongue quickly surfaced in Arthur's mind, as if challenging him to rethink his new revelation.
By the gods, Arthur swore as he promptly pushed the image from his brain, rubbing his forefinger and thumb together in an attempt to coax the sudden buzzing sensation away. If he was going to respect the man, he would have to work on keeping his inner thoughts in line. Perhaps he would have a chance to practice tonight at the opening feast for the peace talks. The peace talks.
"Blast it!" Arthur muttered to himself as he quickly made his way back to the castle. He was supposed to be ready to receive guests with his father in less than an hour. And without a manservant to help him dress, Arthur was sure that it would not be the simple act that he willed it to be.
But I'm a grown man! Arthur claimed as he pushed the heavy doors of his room open. I can certainly dress myself. But as he opened his dresser and eyed the neatly organized clothes, he quietly rescinded his claim.
Author's Note: So, sorry for the delay on this chapter! I had an idea lined up, kept fighting it as I kept meandering around some conversations, and realized that I would have to provide a bit more background before I launched into the next chapter. So, apologies if it feels a bit filler-y, but at least we got to see Gwen, yeah? Also, I really can't overstate how much I appreciate all of y'all's support. Normally, my policy is to give a shout-out to everyone who reviewed the previous chapter, but as y'all seem to be a particularly engaged group (for which I am forever thankful and flattered) I simply have to thank all of you at large (although I will always respond to you personally! Pinky promise)! You are all wonderful people, and while it may take me time to get my chapters posted, please know that your reviews are what keep me going. So, hopefully I'll have something for you in the relative future! Until then, cheers!