"Where are we going, George?" Guinevere asks, willing her voice to be light and conversational. Innocent. Not prying at all.
"Mr. Pendragon has made it abundantly clear that I am not to divulge this evening's destination, Miss Leodegrance," George dutifully answers. "I am sorry."
She sighs. "It was worth a shot," she answers. "Can you at least tell me why you tried to convince me to change clothes?"
"It was Mr. Pendragon's wish that you be dressed casually, Miss. He specifically mentioned blue jeans," he says, his voice tight.
I should have changed. "I'll make sure he knows you tried, George," she says. She knows Arthur would never fire or otherwise punish George, but the driver's defeated demeanor is making her regret not complying with Arthur's wishes.
George nods and turns down a little-used road.
Where are we going?
The months following Guinevere's breakup with Gwaine have been a little… strange. Arthur wound up being gone for a large portion of the spring and summer, traveling with his father on business. He called her more frequently than he should have (to Guinevere's mind), and often shipped her small packages containing gifts from his travels. When she asked him why, he simply said, "It's easier than trying to find room in my luggage." When she said that wasn't exactly what she meant, he would only say, "Well, I keep seeing things I think you'll like." She wanted to tell him how her heart leapt with excitement every time she saw something from him in the post. But she couldn't.
She didn't like that he was gone so much, and she didn't like that she missed him so much, especially because she hasn't been able to see him enough to figure out if Gwaine was right about him. If he feels something more for her. If he feels the same way she has realized she feels about him.
Freya gave birth to a baby girl in August, and Arthur raced back home immediately to see his new "niece". Guinevere thought maybe he held their hug just a little longer than he should have, but wasn't sure. Then all of their attention was focused on the new baby, and she wasn't able to get him alone to see if she could get a read on him.
She's hardly had an opportunity to be alone with him in months, and now she's on her way to celebrate their shared birthday at an undisclosed location that she is beginning to think will also be completely private.
It makes her simultaneously nervous and excited.
The jolt of the car leaving the paved road snaps Guinevere out of her thoughts, and she looks out the window to see nothing but trees.
George drives a little ways into the forest, then stops. "Please follow me, Miss Leodegrance."
She gets out of the car and follows, grateful she wore flat sandals, since they walk until the car is no longer in sight. It has been unseasonably warm this week, and the leaves have not yet begun to turn. The sun is getting to be somewhat low in the sky, and Guinevere hopes Arthur has brought some illumination. And insect repellant. Of course he has. I'm sure he's thought of— "Oh…"
George nods at Arthur, then steps away, leaving Guinevere gaping at the scene before her. "Picnic" isn't quite the correct word for the lavish setup of blankets, pillows, and sumptuous food, all surrounded by citronella torches.
"Guinevere, you look…" his voice trails off, a dreamy half-smile on his face.
"Oh," she repeats. "George did try to convince me to wear jeans," she dumbly says. "And, um, thanks," she adds, taking a cautious step forward.
His gaze involuntarily drops to her bare legs. She is wearing a sundress that hangs to just past her knees and has a cardigan sweater over her arm. "Happy birthday," he says, holding his hand out.
"Happy birthday to you, too," she answers, taking his hand and letting him lead her to the blanket. "Where did you get all this?" she asks, sitting.
"I made most of the food," he casually says, opening a bottle of wine. He pours two glasses and hands her one. "The blankets and pillows I bought, and…"
"Wait, you made this food?" she asks.
He nods. "I figured if Lance can make a bloody career of it, how hard could it be?"
She laughs, and he warmly smiles at her. He loves making her laugh, and plans to spend the rest of his life doing so, if everything goes as he hopes tonight.
In fact, it's taking all he has not to pull her into his arms and kiss her until she forgets everyone else ever existed. He's been planning this date for months, and now that it's finally here he just wants to spill everything, but he knows he should wait. Especially because he's not completely sure how she'll react. He distracts himself by preparing a plate for her, piling it with her favorites that he learned how to make especially for tonight. Roast chicken with carrots and celery. Fried potatoes. Fresh bread.
"Arthur, this looks so good," Guinevere says, plucking a carrot from her plate with her fingers.
"Thank you. It was actually rather fun," Arthur replies, sitting with his own plate.
They eat, chatting a bit about superficial topics. Guinevere waits. She instinctively knows she needs to let him to bring up their marriage pact.
He does so when she is mostly finished.
"Guinevere," he says, setting aside his plate, which is empty apart from a few chicken bones.
Her stomach flips in response to how he has just said her name, but she manages to answer, "Yes?"
"I… I want to cancel our pact," he says.
Her heart drops into her stomach, and she sets her plate aside. "What?"
Her stricken expression feels like a stab wound to his chest, but it also gives him the hope and strength to say the next part of the speech he prepared. "I don't want to marry you because of some… agreement we made five years ago," he says. He reaches across and takes her hand in his. "I want to marry you because… because I am in love with you, Guinevere."
She gasps and tears pool in her eyes as she looks at him. "You are?" she whispers.
He scoots closer, moving their plates out of the way, then leans over and softly kisses her. "I am. Hopelessly." He kisses her again, longer this time. "Completely."
"Oh God, I love you, too, Arthur," she breathes after he pulls away. She lifts her hand and caresses his cheek. He leans into the touch, eyes closing.
"You do?" he asks.
"Yes," she answers. "With all my heart."
He dives in again, kissing her with abandon now that she's said the words, now that he knows she'll be his. His tongue finds hers as he leans over her, easing her back onto the pillows he's now very glad he brought along.
"So…" he murmurs between kisses, "is that a yes? You'll marry me?" He moves his lips, kissing down her neck to allow her to answer, despite the fact he hasn't really asked.
"Yes," she gasps, leaning her head back. "Yes, Arthur," she repeats, sliding her fingers into his hair. "I'll marry you because we love each other… not because we're 30 and desperate."
He kisses along her collarbone, then moves back up, grinning at her and saying, "Good." Then he pecks her lips and disappears.
"Arthur?" Guinevere asks, sitting up again.
Arthur finishes rummaging in one of the bags piled near the base of the tree they are under, and immediately drops to one knee before her. Her eyes widen.
"Guinevere," he says, holding a small item out to her, "I love you. I… I think I have for years, but I didn't realize it until…" he clears his throat, "until this spring. And now that I finally see that what I have always truly wanted had been right beside me all along, I…" He breaks off again, curses under his breath, regroups, and simply says, "Will you marry me?"
She leaps forward, throwing her arms around his neck in a tight hug. "Yes, I will," she answers, then starts laughing. "We're doing this backwards," she giggles, releasing him. "We're supposed to date first."
He looks at her. "Do you really think we need to?" he asks, his face amused.
"No," she answers, then finally looks at the ring he's been holding. "Oh…" It's a beautiful platinum ring with a rather large diamond in the center, surrounded by more diamonds. She's never seen anything like it. "It's beautiful, Arthur."
"I got it in Milan," he says, taking it out of the box. She holds out her hand, and he slides it onto her finger. "Wow, I guessed right," he mutters, chuckling.
"Milan?" she asks.
"I must have shopped every jewelry store in Europe," he says, quite seriously.
She looks down at the beautiful ring on her hand, then back up at him. "You were supposed to be traveling for business," she says, trying not to smile. "Uther allowed you to take time to scour the continent for the perfect ring for me? Wait, Uther knows?"
He grins and looks down, settling in beside her again. "Yes, and yes. Once he noticed I kept slipping away, I was forced to confess," he says. "He was… happy for me. For us. I think. As happy as he lets himself get anyway." He blinks a little, taking her hand. "Well, he obviously approved, because he let me keep looking."
Guinevere laughs, leaning back on the pillows again. She tugs his sleeve and he drops down, leaning on his elbow, gazing at her.
"You are so beautiful, Guinevere. I don't think I've ever told you," he says, winding a loose curl around his finger. "Not while I was sober, anyway," he adds before capturing her lips once more.
Guinevere's head is spinning, but in a very good way. The evening has turned out much better than she could have hoped. Her hands rove his back, and she can tell he is struggling to keep his hands from wandering too much.
Only she wants them to wander. She wants to feel every part of him with every part of her. A quiet moan escapes at this realization, and it also makes her grow bold, sliding her hand down his back to grab his rear.
"Guinevere," he says, lifting his head in surprise.
She merely looks up at him, catching her lower lip in her teeth for just a moment. He groans and drops his head to her neck again, sliding one hand up to her breast as he kisses the exposed skin above the neckline of her sundress.
They shift a bit until he is nestled between her legs. She can feel his arousal pressed against her and it only spurs on her own. He moves one hand down to her thigh and begins sliding it upwards.
"Mmm, I'm so glad you didn't listen," he murmurs against her chest at the feel of her skin under his palm.
"Arthur…" she gasps when his hand gets high enough for his fingers to start investigating the edge of her panties. "We are not doing… that out here," she says, wishing her voice sounded stronger.
"No one will find us," he promises, lifting his head. "This is private property." However, he obediently moves his hand away.
"I do like your enthusiasm, and… perhaps another time, but just not now. Not for our first time," she clarifies. She gazes up at him for a few moments. "Why did we never try this before? I mean, apart from that one birthday," she asks, smoothing his now-tousled hair.
"I honestly have no idea," he answers. "But you know, a very wise person once said that friendship often makes the best foundation for… more," he adds with a grin.
Guinevere laughs, turning her head to the side. "Oh, dear…" she sighs.
"What?" Arthur asks, rolling off of her.
"Merlin. Why didn't it work with him? But with us… I mean… it was never like this with him," she says. "The two months with him weren't anywhere near as hot or as… meaningful as the last fifteen minutes we just spent together," she softly admits.
He softly smiles at her, then leans over and kisses her. Then he simply says, "Merlin isn't me," sounding rather pleased with himself. "Oof," he grunts as she playfully prods him in the ribs for his arrogance before scooting over and cuddling against his side.
"I hate to feed your ego, but you're actually right," she replies. "He isn't you. I just… wasn't attracted to him, I guess."
"And none of those other people we dated worked out because we were supposed to be together," he finishes. He looks down at her. "We've wasted a lot of time, Guinevere."
"Well, let's not waste any more," she replies, suddenly sitting up.
"What? Where are you going? What are you doing?" he asks, confused.
"Packing up," she answers.
"Packing up?" he asks. "We still have dessert… I brought cheesecake…"
She looks at him, dishes in hand. "Do you want to stay out here and just eat dessert or do you want to go back to your house and feed it to me?"
He leaps to his feet and begins helping, pausing only to text George to bring the car closer.
xXx
On their way to Arthur's they decide to call Merlin. Arthur puts him on speaker.
"Hey, aren't you guys supposed to be having your Super Secret Private Members Only Birthday Dinner?" he asks.
"Well, we still are. Kind of," Guinevere says. "But we have news."
"Oh?"
"We're getting married," Arthur declares.
"You're what now?"
"Getting married," Guinevere answers.
"Funny," Merlin replies, obviously thinking they are joking.
Guinevere snorts a laugh, then takes a picture of her left hand with her phone. She sends it to Merlin. "I just texted you something."
It's silent for a few moments, then Merlin exclaims, "Bloody hell!" sending Arthur and Guinevere into a fit of giggles. "Are you lot drunk?"
"Sober as a judge," Arthur insists. "Honestly, mate, I've been planning this for months."
"We both kind of realized that we love each other, and…" Guinevere adds.
"You could have told me," Merlin grouses.
"You are absolute bollocks at keeping a secret, mate," Arthur says. "I mean, if I had told you how I feel about Guinevere and she had told you, separately, how she feels about me, and we both asked you not to say anything, there is no way in hell you would have been able to act normal around either one of us."
Merlin says nothing for a long moment. "True," he finally admits. "Hey, you know, I'm really happy for you two," he adds, obviously over his hurt. "Hang on." A moment later they hear him calling to his wife. "Freya!"
"Don't yell!" her distant voice responds. "You'll wake Reagan."
"Sorry. Arthur and Gwen are getting married," he says.
It is silent for a moment, and Arthur looks over at Guinevere, intrigued.
"About time they figured that out," Freya says.
"What?" Merlin replies
"What?" Arthur and Guinevere echo.
"Come on, Love, you couldn't tell they fancied each oth— wait, are you on the phone with them right now? Why didn't you tell me before I started spouting off!" Freya's voice grows louder as she moves closer to Merlin.
"Put us on speaker, Merlin," Guinevere says, laughing. "Hi Freya," she says.
"Hello," Freya sounds sheepish.
"Don't worry, you didn't say anything that we probably won't hear from 25 other people," Arthur reassures her, glancing over at Guinevere and surprised to see her nodding in agreement.
"Gwaine," she says, "I'll explain later."
"Elena," Arthur replies. "We'll talk to you tomorrow, okay?" he asks Merlin.
"Why don't you come over for lunch?" Freya suggests. "Merlin just showed me the photo of your ring, and I need to see that in person."
"All right. I miss my little Reagan anyway," Arthur replies.
"Congrats, you two," Merlin says. They can hear the smile in his voice.
"Thanks," they answer, then disconnect the call.
"George, would you stop at my flat before taking us to Arthur's?" Guinevere asks. She looks at Arthur and adds, "I'd like to pick up a few things."
"Yes, Miss Leodegrance," George answers.
Arthur leans over and kisses her. "Excellent idea," he says. He kisses her once more, then straightens up. "If I start again, I'm not going to stop," he admits.
Guinevere smiles. "Yeah," she agrees. She looks over at him. "I've never forgotten our 21st birthday," she quietly confesses.
"I haven't either," he admits. "I kept telling myself it was nothing, that it was the alcohol… but I never forgot the feel of your lips," he says, reaching over and stroking her lower lip with his thumb. "Or anything else," he adds.
She giggles and kisses his thumb. "I remember liking how your lips… and hands felt," she confesses. "And wondering—"
"Stop," he groans, dropping his hand to clasp hers. He raises their joined hands and kisses hers. "Bugger me, why did we wait so long?" he muses.
xXx
"I won't be a second," Guinevere says, climbing out of the car when George opens her door. She jogs to the building, and by the time she gets to her door, Arthur is right behind her. "Arthur!" she yelps, giggling as he wraps his arms around her.
He kisses her against the inside of the closed door of her apartment. When he slides his hands down and attempts to pick her up, she stops him.
"Arthur," she says, placing her hands on his chest. "George is waiting outside."
"He's well-paid for his time," he replies, undeterred.
"Arthur."
He stops. "You're right," he agrees, stepping back. "That wasn't very good of me, was it?"
She kisses his cheek, then heads to her room. "It was a bit snobbish, yes," she confirms, calling over her shoulder. "But you recognized it, and admitting you have a problem is the first step to recovery."
"Hey!" he protests, but when she turns to face him, she is smiling.
"Tomorrow is Friday," she declares.
"Yes," he replies, wondering what her point is.
"Just… for how long should I pack?" she asks. "I mean, I have to work tomorrow, but I'd like to stay over anyway. Um, would until Sun—"
"How about forever?" he asks.
She blinks.
"Too much," he backpedals. "Sor—"
"No, it's not that," she reassures him. "I just hadn't even thought about it… I mean, we're moving really fast, and—"
"Maybe we should slow d—"
"No!" she cuts him off, stepping closer to him. She places her hands on either side of his face. "I don't want to slow down, Arthur. This…" she kisses him, "this is right. It feels like… everything has finally slid into its proper place. You. Me. Us."
"So, forever?" he asks.
She laughs. "Yes, forever. As far as packing goes though… you'll have to settle for my packing a bag until we can get organized and move me properly."
He kisses her. "My dear, level-headed Guinevere," he says. Then he releases her so she can finish packing.
xXx
Once they get everything unpacked from the picnic, Guinevere realizes she has almost completely forgotten about dessert.
And her father and brother.
"Oh my God, I need to call my dad!" she exclaims just as Arthur begins slicing the cheesecake.
"So call him," Arthur chuckles.
She was prepared for her father to be shocked, confused, or even upset. She was not prepared for him to be among the "It's About Time" crowd. He was thrilled, and even talked with Arthur a little.
"Standard fatherly advice and a not-so-thinly veiled warning," Arthur reports after she disconnects the call. "Are you going to call Elyan?"
"Dad said he and Perce are out for the evening," Guinevere replies. "I'll call him tomorrow."
"Good," Arthur declares. He picks up the plates. "Anyone else?"
"No one that can't wait. Morgana?"
"Um, I don't need to call her," he quietly answers.
"She already knows." She follows him to his room.
"She said I was an idiot for taking this long," he says. "Why did nobody give us a hint?"
"Would you have believed them?" she asks, sitting on his bed.
"Would you?" he returns.
"No," she answers, laughing.
"Some things we need to figure out for ourselves," he agrees. "Now. Do you want this cheesecake or not?" he asks, holding the plates aloft.
She looks at the plates, then at him. "After," she says.
He almost drops the plates. She giggles and he quickly but carefully sets them on top of the dresser.
Guinevere reaches up to unwind her hair from its braid just to give her fidgety hands something to do while she watches Arthur approach.
He drops to his knees on the floor beside the bed, looking up at her for a long moment before leaning over and kissing her kneecap. His hands come up to rest on her knees, thumbs stroking her skin. "I love you so much, Guinevere… and I can't believe I didn't…"
"Shh." She softly presses her index finger against his lips. "Neither of us did. But we can't dwell on it, Arthur," she says, moving her hand to his cheek, allowing her thumb to linger over his lower lip. "Time to move forward," she suggests.
He slides his hands up her legs, over her skirt this time, lifting up on his knees as his hands reach her backside. "Moving forward is a good idea," he replies, kissing her. "You always know what to say," he adds, slowly making his way onto the bed. "How to make me feel better."
She scoots back until her head reaches the pillows and he follows, hovering over her. "You do the same for me," she answers, sliding her fingers through his hair.
"I do?" he asks, lifting up to look down at her.
She nods. "Always," she answers, her hands sliding from his shoulders and moving down, tracing the contours of his chest as they make their way to the hem of his t-shirt. "Off," she murmurs, plunging her hands under his shirt and sliding them up.
He jumps at the contact, then leans back just enough to remove the garment. "You're still on the pill, right?" he asks, having a sudden moment of logical thought.
"Yeah," she answers, now busy with his belt.
They know they are both free of any diseases (Gwen even got tested after leaving Helios, just in case), so any potentially awkward conversations do not need to take place.
"Good," he replies, helping her remove his trousers. He shuffles them off, then returns to her wearing only boxer briefs. "You're still dressed," he comments.
"Very observant," she replies, laughing. She sits up and turns around. "Zipper," she quietly says.
As he lowers her zipper, he takes a moment to notice how… natural this feels. Of course he feels all the exhilaration of making love to her for the first time, but it somehow doesn't feel like the first time. He leans forward and kisses her shoulder, nudging the strap of her sundress out of the way with his nose. She turns around and looks at him, her hair in disarray, dress rumpled and hanging askew, lips pink and slightly swollen, and a glittering diamond ring on the third finger of her left hand. She looks magnificent. "I don't think you could look more beautiful than you do right now," he says, his voice low.
Guinevere smiles and bashfully looks down, then eases her dress off of her shoulders and drops it onto the floor.
Arthur forgets to breathe. His eyes trace the curves and contours of her body like a caress. "I think I need to amend my previous statement," he says, prowling back over her.
She reaches out to him, placing her palms on his chest then sliding them up to his shoulders, holding on as he eases her back down onto the pillows. She has seen him shirtless before – even rubbed sunblock on his back a few times – but this is the first time she's been able to touch him this way, and she revels in it, exploring unabashedly as they kiss, losing themselves in one another.
His hands are equally busy, familiarizing himself with the feel of her breasts and curves, learning what makes her moan and whimper and cry out with pleasure.
Her body writhes under his, pressing up against him. She can feel his hardened length against her hip and slips her hand down to close around it, rubbing through the material of his boxer briefs.
"Oh…" he grunts, his body reflexively jerking in response to her touch. He regroups and kisses his way down her neck, following the tendon along one side and lingering when she lightly gasps.
She moves her hand to the waistband of his boxers, shoving at it, trying to remove them. He takes the hint and quickly rids himself of the garment. He returns, dropping a kiss on her stomach as he reaches for her panties.
This time she lets him remove them. He slowly peels them off and drags them down her long, slender legs. "You are incredibly beautiful, Guinevere," he quietly intones, kissing her hip, then moving higher to kiss her breasts. His lips and tongue lavish attention on her, and she pleasurably hums, sliding her fingers into his hair.
Guinevere moves her leg, wrapping it around his and sliding her foot up and down his calf. The motion allows his shaft to nudge her damp center, and she flexes her hips, instinctively seeking out contact.
Arthur skims one hand down over her body until his fingers find their target, seeking out the warmth he just discovered. He circles once, and she moans. He does it some more, then moves them lower, slipping inside her and pumping in and out a few times.
"Arthur…" Her voice sounds enough like a plea for him to understand what she wants. But before he can settle between her thighs, she moves, slipping out from under him.
"Oh!" he exclaims, rolling onto his back as she climbs over him. "Mmm, this is good, too," he rumbles, watching her hovering over him.
"I like to be on top," she whispers, grinning down at him for a moment. She kisses his nose, then trails her hand down his chest and stomach, reaching between them to position him where she wants him.
He groans when she moves her hips down, drawing him into her. She leans down and kisses him again, not moving, just savoring the feel of being joined with him for the first time. "I love you," she whispers, her lips brushing his.
"I love you, too," he answers, his fingers digging into her rear as he claims her lips in a searing kiss. His hips flex, hoping to encourage her to move.
She does, the motion of her hips complementing his as he lifts up to meet her. "Mmm," she hums, her fingers in his hair again.
"Yes," he agrees, moving his head to close his lips over her nipple, sucking and flicking the stiff nub with his tongue.
"Oh," she gasps, leaning back and sitting up. He follows, sitting up and holding her against him, helping her move on his lap.
"Open your eyes," he whispers, running his nose along hers.
She does, and meets his gaze as they pick up their pace, starting to grow frantic as the sensations build. "Touch me," she breathes, clinging to his shoulders.
Needing no further explanation, he slips a hand between them to the spot where she needs him, softly rubbing his thumb back and forth against her sensitive, swollen button.
"Ah… oh…" she gasps, her forehead against his. She cries out and he swallows it with a deep kiss, his free arm wrapping tightly around her back as he climaxes at the same time.
"Guinevere," he sighs a moment later, her name spoken into her mouth.
"Arthur," she replies, sagging against him, spent and boneless.
He lies back, bringing her with him. She squirms, trying to get comfortable, and he jumps a little when her motion causes him to slip out of her. She giggles and rolls off of him, curling into his side.
"That was better than I could have ever imagined," Arthur says after a time. "And trust me, I did some imagining."
Guinevere laughs. "It was… amazing, Arthur," she says. "God, we're stupid."
His laughter joins hers. "We've got the rest of our lives to make up for it, my love," he replies, looking down at her.
She nods, and kisses his chest. "I hate to ruin the moment, but I need to…"
"Oh. Right," he says, opening his arms so she can get out of bed. She heads to the en suite bathroom, not bothering to put anything on, and he watches with unabashed interest.
She returns a few minutes later, smirking at how smugly satisfied he looks, lying there with his fingers laced behind his head, rumpled sheet just barely covering him below the waist. "Proud of yourself?" she asks, trying to cover the fact that she actually thinks he looks incredibly sexy.
"Should I not be?" he returns, one corner of his lips turning up in a half smile. "God, you are gorgeous," he adds, his eyes glued to her as she climbs back into the bed.
"You're not too shabby, either," she replies, kissing his chest. "Not too shabby at all."
He laughs again, wrapping her in his arms. He kisses her forehead and says, "Bloody hell, now I have to pee."
She snorts a laugh while he gets out bed. "Nice arse you got there," she calls. He really does have a very nice backside. Must be all that football he played, she reasons.
"Glad you like it," he calls over his shoulder just before he disappears into the bathroom.
Guinevere straightens out the bedclothes a bit, and when Arthur returns, she has made herself comfortable, looking like a goddess in repose. His steps slow and he just takes a moment to fully take her in.
"Arthur?"
"You look so amazing, lying here in my bed," he quietly says, sliding in beside her, leaning on one elbow. He toys with one of the curls surrounding her head like a mahogany halo. "Even in my wildest dreams, I never… what?" he stops, noticing how her eyes widen and her dusky cheeks color slightly.
She bites her lower lip. "I wasn't completely honest with you about why Gwaine and I broke up," she admits.
"Oh?" he asks, interested, wondering what prompted her to suddenly confess.
"Apparently, I had some… dreams… about you," she says, looking away. "And apparently I also talk in my sleep."
Right. I mentioned dreams. "Oh really?" he asks, now very interested. He shifts so he is fully sitting up. "Do tell." He doesn't really need to ask what the dreams were or who they involved.
She makes a noise somewhere between a sigh and a snort and sits up as well, pulling the sheets up to cover her chest. "I honestly don't remember all the details. I know they were… you know, sex dreams, and you were in them. And I know it happened more than once. I guess Gwaine isn't a very heavy sleeper."
Arthur's grin falls and he asks, "He wasn't… cruel to you about it or anything, was he?"
"No, not at all," she reassures him. "He was actually really cool about it. It wasn't only the dreams though. He said that he could see how you looked at me… and said I looked at you the same way. Well, the same but not as… overtly. He told me he wouldn't be my second choice."
"Wow. He's… wow. Better man than a lot of blokes would have been in the same situation, probably including me," Arthur replies.
She nods. "It made me feel a bit worse about it," she admits, looking down at her hands. Then she looks up and says, "He told me he was stepping aside so I could be happy and that he knew that you wouldn't make a move if he was in the picture."
"I hadn't made a move on you in ten years; what makes him think I would now?" he asks.
She angles her head. "I don't know. Maybe he thought I would initiate something," she shrugs. "He's quite good at reading people, so perhaps he noticed something I didn't," she adds. "In any case, you did make a move – a very large move at that – so I guess it doesn't really matter."
Arthur nods, appearing deep in thought for a few moments. "Should I send him a 'Thank You' card?" he asks, slowly smiling.
Guinevere laughs. "I don't think that would be very well-received," she says, nudging him with her foot under the covers. She leans against his shoulder. "So why did you choose now to make a move? I mean, yeah, the pact, but…"
"Well… I need to confess something to you as well," he says.
"Wait… when you officially proposed, you said something about this spring," she interjects.
"Yeah. That's all a part of it. When I told you I had a rather interesting breakup with Elena, I didn't tell you everything, either," he admits.
"Were you having naughty dreams about me, too?" she asks, grinning.
"Of course. But that wasn't the issue. Elena and I never got to that point," he says. "But essentially, she saw what Gwaine saw."
"Really? I guess… well… yeah. I mean, several people, including my own father, have made similar comments," she says. "We're never going to live that down."
"I know," he agrees. "But when Elena came right out and asked me why I had never asked you out…" he pauses, shaking his head, "I didn't have an answer for her. I honestly have no idea why it never occurred to me. I mean… you are as close to perfect as I could ever find…"
"Well, I don't know about that," she whispers, a little overwhelmed by his regard for her.
"I do," he earnestly replies. "I mean, I know you're not really perfect; no one is. But in regards to what I need, what I want…" he trails off, his blue eyes roaming her face for a moment before leaning over to kiss her. "Elena said that seeing us dancing at Father's party was what really opened her eyes," he says, pulling away just enough to speak.
"Oh?" she asks, slowly opening her eyes.
"She said we looked like a young couple who were very much in love," he answers. "After she left… I realized she was right." He softly kisses her. "At least for my part. I didn't know how you felt. Not then, anyway."
"I'm glad she was right," Guinevere says, quickly becoming distracted by other, suddenly more pressing matters.
"Me too," Arthur agrees as they shift so they are lying down again. He begins kissing down her neck.
"Oh…" she sighs as he continues lower, dragging the blankets with him as he travels down her body.
xXx
They were married a month later. Neither of them wanted a large affair, for different reasons. Arthur didn't want the media attention. Guinevere didn't really relish the idea of being the center of attention of any kind. They both wanted something intimate that didn't require a lot of planning. So they kept everything very low-key, and had a small ceremony at Pendragon Manor. It was too cold to have the ceremony in the garden, but there was plenty of room inside for the small gathering.
Uther actually offered to host the event, surprising both of them. He jokingly stated that it would give him a reason to use parts of the house that haven't been touched in decades. Guinevere's pastor officiated. Merlin served as both the best man and matron of honor ("Man of Honor, if you please," he reminded everyone).
Guinevere's father took care of the food and cake, despite Uther's protests that he had staff to handle those things. Tom insisted, looking Uther square in the eye and saying, "You don't get to have all the glory, Pendragon. She's my only daughter." Uther simply nodded and agreed, respecting the other man for standing up to him. This exchange also marked the beginning of Uther and Tom's solid, if unlikely, friendship.
After the ceremony, they dined in the large dining room, then Arthur and Guinevere made their exit to spent the next two nights in the penthouse suite of the Royal Albion, The Pendragon Group's poshest establishment.
xXx
"Hey, we made the Society Page," Arthur comments Monday morning, still in bed at the hotel. He angles his tablet so Guinevere can see it.
"Well, we saw them talking to Uther and Morgana after the wedding, Arthur," she comments. "So this is hardly a surprise." Arthur's father and sister had stepped outside to deal with the handful of reporters who had turned up simply because there were more vehicles than usual outside Pendragon Manor.
"Yes, but apparently our wedding was," he laughs.
"True," she replies, resting her head on his shoulder as she reads the article.
Arthur Pendragon, Executive Vice President of The Pendragon Group and son of CEO Uther Pendragon, was wed in a private ceremony on Saturday. Pendragon, 30, who has often been seen in the company of wealthy socialites such as Vivian Eriksson and Mithian Rodor, took Camelot by surprise by quietly marrying his longtime friend, Guinevere Leodegrance. The new Mrs. Pendragon, also 30, is employed as a botanist at Camelot Botanic Gardens.
When asked for comment, Uther Pendragon simply stated, "We were all surprised, but she is a lovely girl and Arthur is quite happy. They are both quite happy."
Morgana Pendragon-Carruthers, was less shocked. "I was only surprised it took them this long to figure it out," she remarked, trademark smirk planted on the groom's sister's famously flawless face.
The newlywed Pendragons will be taking an extended honeymoon, but the location was not divulged. Our sources claim Mrs. Pendragon plans to continue working at the Botanic Gardens.
"Why is that even relevant?" Guinevere asks. "Who cares if I want to keep working?"
Arthur sighs. "I hate to say it this way, but it's still a bit unusual for the wife of… you know…"
"A ridiculously wealthy person such as yourself?" she provides with a smile.
He nods. "Most don't bother working because they don't need to," he continues. "Though I don't know why it's still considered surprising."
"Well, I'm sorry that they think it's newsworthy that I would rather continue doing a job I love than be a bored society wife," she replies.
"Don't be sorry," he reassures her, setting aside his tablet to snuggle against her, resting his head on her chest. "I'm not."
"Morgana worked before Graham was born," Guinevere points out.
"Yeah, but she's not the wife of some super posh heir to an empire," Arthur points out.
"No, she is a super posh co-heir to an empire. And besides, Alvarr's family has money, too." It's not as much as the Pendragons, but the Carruthers family is definitely considered Upper Crust.
"And Morgana is 100% Uther's daughter. She has the ambition, drive, and ruthlessness he does," he says. "She would have driven everyone crazy, including herself, if she hadn't gone to work for Father."
"You're more like your mother was, aren't you?" Guinevere asks, looking up at him.
"From what I understand, yes," Arthur answers, gathering her closer and kissing her forehead. "Father doesn't talk about her much… and I think a lot of the problems he and I have had over the years come from the fact that I remind him too much of her."
"Problems? I should think that would make him more fond of you," she says. "My father frequently tells me how much I favor Mum, and I can see the love he still holds for her in his eyes every time."
"Major difference between Tom and Uther," Arthur says, chuckling humorlessly. "I think part of him broke when she died, to be honest."
Guinevere nods. She knows Uther well enough by now to understand what Arthur means. "I'm sure your mother was wonderful. If you take after her, I'm certain of it."
"I've never heard a word against her," he says. "I know people do not like to speak ill of the dead, but… I've actually done some digging. Public records, you know. She was very generous. Philanthropic with both money and time. Everyone loved her."
Guinevere lifts up, leaning over him and smoothing his hair away from his forehead. "Everyone loves you, too, Arthur," she says, kissing him. "Me, most of all," she adds with a smile. "Uther has charisma, but he lacks charm. People follow him because they fear him." She kisses him again. "You have both, and people listen to you because they respect you." Another kiss. "And they respect you because you respect them." She kisses him again, longer this time. "It's something I've always admired about you. Always loved about you."
He wraps his arms around her, then rolls them, tangling the sheets around their bodies. "Everyone is going to love you, too, Guinevere," he says. "I know you dislike being the center of attention, and I promise you I will try to keep the vultures at bay as best I can." He's already made arrangements for her to have a personal security guard, and she agreed because she had front-row seats to the Nimueh Unpleasantness, but only on the condition that her guard keep a respectable distance unless necessary.
"I know. You won't always be able to do so, though," she says, stroking his cheek.
He places a soft, lingering kiss on her lips. "Just be your usual amazing self and no one will be able to find a single fault with you," he says. Then he chuckles. "As if putting on airs is something you would even consider doing in a million years," he adds, smiling and shaking his head at his own ridiculous advice. He drops his head and kisses her soundly, reaching down to pull her legs around his hips.
"Arthur," she breathes between kisses, "we have to go home today…" she continues, pulling her lips away again. Undeterred, Arthur simply kisses down her neck. "It's already past ten…"
He lifts his head. "We don't have a checkout time, Guinevere," he says. "And the 'Do Not Disturb' is still on the door, not that we reallyneed it." His thumb skims across her nipple, and he kisses her neck again. "Enjoy being a posh snob for one more day," he murmurs against her skin.
"You're very persuasive," she whispers, giving up.
xXx
Guinevere looks back and forth between two paint samples, trying to decide. "Arthur?"
"Hmm?" Arthur responds, glancing up from the football match for a second before returning his eyes to the screen.
"What do you think for the kitchen? Lemon yellow or sage green? I like the yellow, because it's nice and sunny, but the sage is just so pretty and soothing," she says.
"Whatever you think is best, Love," he answers.
She purses her lips and very deliberately sets the paint chips down on the table.
They had spent a lovely two week honeymoon in Tahiti, in blissful seclusion, away from the outside world, mobile phones off.
When they returned, Arthur told Guinevere she could redecorate his house – their house – as she liked. She was excited about the prospect.
At first. They've been home for just over a week, and Arthur has made it pretty clear that he has no intention of giving her any input, which saddened Guinevere. And now, she has just decided that she is not going to do this alone.
"I was thinking of painting the master bedroom either cotton candy pink or bright fuchsia," she says, looking over at him.
"Sounds good."
She tightly clasps her hands together. "Maybe we should remove the toilets in favor of digging a pit and putting up an outhouse in the garden."
"Mmm-hmm."
"I thought for the nursery we'd do a nice…" she pauses a moment, thinking, "zombie apocalypse theme. Paint the walls dark gray, get some deep red to splatter around like blood… make some cutouts of walkers to add some interest. Maybe even paint 'Don't open – dead inside' on the doors."
"Whatever you li— what?" Arthur finally gives her his full attention. "Guinevere… did you say 'nursery'? Are you…?"
Guinevere crosses her arms over her chest. "No, Arthur, I'm not. You know I'm still on the pill." His expression clouds and his mouth opens, but she cuts him off before he can say anything. "I was trying to see how long it would take for you actually hear what I was saying," she says. "And I know you don't care that much about either of these teams," she adds, waving her hand at the television before crossing her arms again.
He turns off the TV and scoots closer, turning to face her. "I'm sorry, Guinevere," he says, resting his hands on her crossed forearms. "It won't happen again."
"Arthur," she says, sighing. "I would simply like your opinions on… all of this," she moves one arm to gesture to the paint samples, pamphlets, and notebook on the coffee table.
"I will honestly be happy with whatever you choose, Love," he says.
She pulls away from him and stands. "That's not the point," she says.
"What do you mean?" he asks, looking up at her, puzzled.
She turns away for a moment, blinking back tears of frustration. "I don't want to do this by myself, Arthur!" she says, turning towards him. "I'm not a decorator you've hired, I'm your wife. This should be something we do together, to… you know, grow closer. Make our house a real home, a home we love, something of which we can be proud," she says, swiping away a tear. "You said I could have whatever I wanted… well, what I want is your input."
Arthur is standing and moving towards her before she finishes speaking, and he wraps his arms around her, tucking his nose into her hair. "I'm so sorry, Guinevere," he murmurs. "I thought… well, I guess I really didn't think, did I?" he asks, leaning back to look at her. He wipes her wet cheeks with his thumbs, then kisses her forehead. "I don't have much of an eye for this type of thing, that's all…"
"You've never even tried," she says, glancing around at his plain white walls and nondescript furniture.
He nods. "For you, I'll try."
"Thank you," she whispers, and he hooks his finger under her chin, lifting her face for a kiss.
"Let's go upstairs," he whispers, his hands beginning to wander.
"No," she replies, resisting his advances. She catches one of his hands and pulls him back to the couch.
"Here? Okay, I'm game," he says, leaning towards her.
She picks up the two paint samples and holds them up in front of her like a shield. "Yellow or green for the kitchen?"
xXx
"That was a lot of children," Guinevere says, slumping into the passenger seat of the car after Graham's birthday party.
"Shh…" Arthur says, closing his eyes. "I need a moment to remember what silence is."
She smiles and takes his hand as they sit in the quiet. After some seconds, she giggles and Arthur starts the car.
"It wasn't a bad party," she allows. "Just… loud."
"Morgana does know how to throw a party, even if it is for kids," he replies.
They don't talk much on the way home, each wondering if the other is thinking about the pointed remarks Uther tossed their way about more grandchildren.
Once home, Arthur decides to address it. "Sorry about my father," he says.
"In general, or are you referring to something specific?" Guinevere replies with a grin, reaching up to take her hair down as she walks up to the bedroom.
"You know," he answers, following. "What he said. About grandchildren."
"Yeah," she sighs, walking into the bathroom to put away the hairpins she's just mined from her mass of curls. They are stored in the same drawer as her birth control pills. She's still not sure about having children. She'd like more time to enjoy simply being Arthur and Gwen, but she is also mindful of her age and family history. Her mother didn't have Elyan until she was in her late twenties. Her second pregnancy with Guinevere was in her early thirties, and it was difficult. She got pregnant a third time when she was nearly 35, and miscarried.
"Guinevere?" Arthur asks, walking into the bathroom. "Are you all right, Love?" he asks. "You've been standing here staring into the… oh."
"We have been talking about it," she replies. "And I'm not exactly getting any younger."
"We're only 30," he says, closing the drawer before wrapping his arms around her. "But I know why you're worried. I haven't forgotten," he quickly adds, kissing her temple.
She nods, letting him hold her. "Is this what we want to do?" she asks.
"I don't know if I'm ready, but… I don't think anyone is really ready, are they?"
"Probably not," she replies with a sigh. "Elyan and Percival are trying to adopt… Merlin and Freya are expecting twins… Even Leon and Mithian already have a child."
"It's an epidemic," Arthur lightly jokes. "Come. Let's go outside and watch the sunset," he says, sliding his hand down her arm to take hers.
"Are you hungry?" Guinevere asks.
"After that party, I don't think I'll be able to eat for three days," he answers. "Unless you're talking about pizza."
She laughs. "Maybe in a little while."
They settle into a large hammock strung between two large trees in the back garden, cuddled together, enjoying the warm May evening.
"Do you want to have children?" Guinevere asks.
"I think I'd like one," Arthur answers. "But if it's not what you want…"
"One could be do-able," she agrees after a long moment. "It's like you said though: I don't think anyone is ever really ready."
"You're in charge here," he says. "I won't force you if you truly don't want to have a child with me." He kisses the top of her head. "And this isn't like the paint color thing, I promise. I have an opinion, but it's your body."
"I know," she whispers, snuggling closer to him.
They watch the sun slip behind the trees, then drop lower until the sky turns pink and orange, then purple, and finally, black.
"Are you getting cold?" Arthur asks.
"Let's go inside and order that pizza," Guinevere answers.
They climb out of the hammock and as they walk back to the house, hand in hand, she says, "I'll call my doctor Monday to talk about going off of the pill."
He stops. "You're sure?"
"No," she answers, biting her lip. "But I don't want to regret missing an opportunity for something that could be wonderful just because I'm not sure." She lifts up on tiptoe and kisses him. "We waited too long to be together. If we wait too long to have a child we may miss our chance altogether."
