The Blacksmith's Son- Chapter Seven
Chapter: 7/?
Rating: PG
Pairings: Arthur/Gwen, Gwen/Lancelot, Merlin/Arthur BFFness
Disclaimer/references: Merlin does not belong to me.
The near-to-end part of this is slightly based on a scene from The Office (US.)
Summary: He has the hands of a blacksmith but a heart of a prince- if only she could see that. AU fic, in which Arthur is the blacksmith's son and Gwen a princess- because being epic means being two pieces of a jigsaw puzzle that fits, even when the colours have changed.
A/N: Thanks to lovedbyahero for her beta.
This chapter comes with a major angst warning.
Gwen knows she is running on borrowed time.
The fact that Morgana knows about her secret suggests that everyone else will not be far behind, and she can just imagine what people would be saying. No doubt there would be gossip that she and Arthur are having a torrid affair and the thought of this reaching her father or Lancelot scares her. And though she knows nothing of the sort is happening to between them, she also knows that the time has come for her to stop meeting Arthur like this. As much as she yearns for their meetings to continue, she also knows that it is wrong for a soon-to-be married woman of her status to associate with a man she is not set to marry.
The idea of ending their alliance fills her with a sadness that she cannot describe, and she spends restless nights worrying about it. One night when she cannot sleep, she goes over to her window. A smile graces her lips when she sees Arthur outside practising.
How far we've come since I first saw him practising out here, she thinks to herself. She barely knew him then, and now...
And now what? She wonders. Arthur is the man who teaches her how to fight like a warrior, the person who makes her laugh effortlessly and one of the only people she can talk to with extreme ease. He treats her like an equal and she looks forward to his company more than anything in the week. She can describe him as a good friend, yet it doesn't seem enough.
She watches on as he glides his sword under the moonlight, oblivious to being watched. His movements could be mistaken for that of a knight's, and it makes her a little sad that his talents alone are not enough to make him one.
For a moment, Arthur puts down his sword and looks up blindly at the castle and she knows he is looking up in her direction. But in the darkness, he doesn't spot her there. Despite this, he still smiles in a pensive way, before turning and heading off.
She watches him retreat and all she can think about is how much she doesn't want them to revert back to existing in their separate worlds.
The next day, she heads to the kitchens and gathers a small basketful of apples. Afterwards, she goes off to see Arthur in his workshop.
When she gets there, she is surprised to find that Arthur is not alone.
Working alongside him is Arthur's father. They both turn to look at her as Gwen enters the workshop and she stands there, uncertain as to what to do. She never met Arthur's father before which she considers ironic as he was the one she initially sought to make her sword.
It's strange seeing him. There's a touch of resemblance between father and son, but other than that, they couldn't be more different. Whereas Arthur is open and laid-back, she can tell this is not true of Uther. By his stance she can tell, he is guarded and cautious, and the harsh lines of age etched on his face extend to his soul. But there is no mistaking the fact that though he is a blacksmith, he still carries the stance of a knight.
This is a man who has experienced the worst life has to offer, she thinks, and hopes that Arthur does not become the same.
Putting down the tool in his hand, Arthur clears his throat. "Father, this is the Lady Guinevere. She asked me to make her a sword for her and we have been good friends since."
Uther scrutinises her, but she has no clue to what he might be thinking of her. After what seems like an eternity, he extends his hand for hers.
"It's nice to meet you, Lady Guinevere," he says, placing a kiss on her hand.
"It's nice to meet you too, Mister Pendragon."
He looks at her inquiringly and it dawns on her that he's wondering why she is here. "I've come to see Arthur, that is, if it's okay."
"Is it okay if we go to the house, Father?" Arthur asks.
Uther thinks about this and nods. "Don't be long," he tells his son, before turning back to his work.
Gwen walks alongside him on the short journey to his house.
"I didn't realise your father was back," she muses. "I've never seen him before."
"He's often away for long periods of time, scouring materials for the business. He's back, but I don't know how long for."
"Oh," is all she says.
There's something slightly reserved about Gwen's behaviour and he wonders what she's suppressing. Before he gets the chance to ask, they arrive at his house.
He's slightly cautious about showing her the meagre contents of his house, but Gwen hardly seems to notice her surroundings. Instead, she stands in the doorway, clutching nervously at the basket in her hands.
"Are you okay, Gwen?" he inquires in concern.
She throws him a smile. "Fine," she says. But it doesn't hide her distractedness. "I've brought you some apples," she tells him instead. "They were grown in the royal gardens, so they should be above par."
He takes them from her hands. "It's like you're trying to tell me that I don't eat well," he tells her teasingly. "Thank you for these."
"You're welcome."
Arthur exhales deeply. "Are you hungry, Gwen? I could cook us some lunch."
"That would be lovely."
Arthur motions for her to sit down at the table and she does as she's told.
She looks around at the house which surely couldn't be bigger than her own room.
"You have a nice place," she informs him.
Arthur snorts. "I do not believe you mean that," he says as he gathers some food to prepare.
"I do indeed!" she protests. "I think your place quite quaint."
He looks at her and rolls his eyes. "Your definition of quaint differs substantially from mine."
She laughs and watches him as he cooks. After a while she says, "So are you a good cook, Arthur?"
He shrugs. "I'll let you pass judgement on that one."
She nods with a smile and continues to watch him as he adds one ingredient and another to his cooking pot. Allowing the mixture to simmer for a while, he comes to sit in front of her.
"So what have you been up to, Gwen?" he asks.
She sighs. "The usual."
"Talks about weddings?"
She nods.
"You'll get through it," he assures her.
"I'd rather it not happen at all," she answers with another sigh. Changing the topic she asks, "How's Merlin?"
Arthur considers this. "His usual, clumsy self. He accidentally dropped some vials over the dressmaker yesterday. She ended up turning purple."
Gwen laughs. "I like Merlin. He's a nice man."
"And a very good friend," Arthur replies pensively. He stands up and heads for the stove. Checking to see whether the food is done, he pours the contents of the pot into two separate bowls and places them on the table. He also reaches for some bread rolls and walks over with them.
Gwen inhales. "It smells nice," she tells him.
"It's only some stew," he replies. "Nothing extraordinary, I'm afraid."
She takes a bite and her eyes widen. "Arthur, this is delicious!" she cries.
He beams. "You think so?"
"I love it," she says.
"What can I say? I'm a blacksmith as well as a cook."
"And a man obviously good with his hands," she surmises, before blushing at the connotations of her words.
He grins, and they eat the rest of their meal in content silence.
When she's finished eating, Gwen says, "Thank you, Arthur. That was lovely."
"It was my pleasure," he answers, and he's glad to see that she's brightened up a little.
He fetches them both an apple, which they both eat as they talk amicably.
Finally, the time comes for her to leave.
Gwen stands up and Arthur does the same, following her to the door.
She turns to face him and that sadness about her returns.
Although neither one says it, he knows that from henceforth, there will be no more lessons and no more visits to the workshop.
Instead she says, "Thank you for the last few months, Arthur. My time with you has truly been the best moments of my life."
He smiles, although it doesn't quite reach his eyes. "Anytime," he tells her.
"I'll guess I'll see you about?" Her words are more of a question than a statement.
"I hope so," he replies.
She looks at him uncertainly, not knowing what to do. Finally, she reaches up and places a soft kiss against his cheek.
"I'll see you soon, Arthur," she says.
"And you, Gwen," he replies, watching as she steps out the door.
For a while he stands there, her words of gratitude circulating in his mind.
But, to him, they sound an awfully lot like goodbye.
xxx
She walks back to the castle with a heavy heart. Even though she knows she will see him around, it will never be the same as the times they've shared together, and this hurts more than it should.
Pushing this thought aside, she enters court to see her father.
She finds him waiting for her.
"Guinevere, where have you been?" he demands. "I've been waiting for you."
She looks at him apologetically. "I'm sorry, Father, I was out visiting a friend."
He dismisses this and motions for her to sit before him.
"Tell me, daughter," he begins. "Have you finally decided whom it is you will marry?"
Gwen takes a while to answer.
She looks into her father's face, and sees the love for her reflecting highly. But she also sees his great look of expectance there and she feels tied down by duty to make the right choice.
"I have, Father," she finally says. "I've decided to marry Lancelot."
She watches as her father beams and exudes exhilaration.
But she cannot pretend to feel the same.
When Uther comes home from work, he finds his son sitting at the table with a gloomy look on his face.
"I thought I told you to come back to work," Uther says.
"I'm sorry, Father," he replies, his voice devoid of any emotion. "I guess I got distracted."
His father eyes him curiously, before coming to join him at the table.
When Arthur was younger, he shared a tumultuous relationship with his father. Suffering from depression, Uther would switch from showing his child affection to going through bouts of neglect. This led the way to an extremely difficult and often heated relationship during Arthur's early teenage years and it was only during the last few years that the two had been able to mend their broken bond.
"I didn't know you were friends with the Lady Guinevere," Uther says.
Arthur shrugs. "It's only been a recent thing," he replies glumly.
"She seems like a lovely lady."
Arthur allows himself a smile. "She is," he remarks.
Uther looks on at his son shrewdly. "So how long?"
Arthur looks at him in confusion. "How long what?"
"How long have you been in love with her?"
Arthur looks at his father, aghast. "I am not!"
Uther snorts. "It may have been a while but I know that look when I see it." His eyes darken for a moment, and Arthur knows he is remembering a time when he was the one giving that look.
Arthur sighs. "Fine, maybe I am in love with her and have been for a long while. But what good is that? My feelings mean nothing. I can only ever be a blacksmith to her."
His father contemplates his words. "If you really wanted her, you could use the fact that you have noble blood to be a contender for her affections."
Arthur shakes his head. "Believe me, Father, I've thought about that. But if the king, by some small chance accepted my nobility, he would expect me to train as a knight. And there is no way I would join the likes of prats such as Lancelot. There is nothing I admire about those men, and I do not want to be a part of that. I couldn't, not even for her."
He looks down angrily at the table; feeling immensely frustrated and outdone by.
"This whole situation is futile," he states.
His father reaches out and pats his hand. "Nothing is futile, my son. If you want her that badly, I'm sure you'll find a way to her."
The next morning, the news of Gwen's engagement to Lancelot is all over Camelot and Gwen spends most of the day attending to official appointments.
In the late afternoon she gets the chance to break away from it all and heads to the royal gardens. It's been a while since she's been able to tend to the gardens, and she revels in the task, immensely enjoying the time to herself.
Lost in thought, she goes over to the roses and examines the array of colours. She smiles when she sees them; this being her favourite part of the garden. She knows that the roses were planted by her mother and enjoys looking after something that is an extension of the woman she never got the chance to know.
She prunes the roses and every now and then she will pick out one she likes and she does not know how long she spends doing this.
"I suppose my congratulations are in order."
Gwen jumps at the sound of the voice. Turning around, she finds Arthur standing a few feet away from her; a package in his hands.
"Arthur!" she cries in surprise. "What are you doing here?"
He doesn't smile or greet her. Instead, he comes to stand in front of her. "I've come to give you this," he tells her, handing her a long, clothed item.
"My sword?" she questions, taking it.
His gives her a ghost of a smile and nods. "I didn't want you to forget it." He takes out something from his pocket. "I got you this too. Consider it a wedding gift from me."
She looks at him in puzzlement and takes the proffered item. She gasps when she sees that it is a pendant in the shape of an apple. Examining the pendant, she sees that it is a piece of metal with intricate designs all over it. Turning it over in her spare hand, she finds the word 'Guinevere' written there.
"Did you make this?" she inquires.
Arthur nods.
"It's wonderful," she enthuses. "I'll cherish this, Arthur."
"I'm glad."
His expression is sombre and Gwen searches his face, trying to gage what's wrong.
"So you decided to marry Lancelot," he finally says.
She nods. "I'm sorry I didn't get the chance to tell you. And yes, I know my father would have wanted me to."
"But what do you want?" he asks.
She shrugs. "I want my father to be happy. So long as he is, I am too."
The look he gives her suggests that he is uncertain by this.
"Lancelot may not be perfect, but I care for him a great deal," she continues.
"If only you'd see him the way I do," his words are wistful and she almost doesn't hear them.
She looks at him in confusion, but he doesn't elaborate.
She studies his face and notices his downcast gaze.
"What is it, Arthur?"
He shakes his head.
"You can tell me anything," she implores.
"I cannot tell you this."
She does not know what compels her to do so, but she transfers her pendant to the hand with the sword in and lifts a finger to Arthur's chin, drawing his gaze back up. His eyes finally meet hers, and they stare on at each other; his lips drawn in a line and his eyes full of intense emotion.
She doesn't know how long they stand like this, but finally Arthur speaks.
"I'm in love with you!" he finally blurts out.
Her finger drops from his chin. "What?"
"I'm in love with you," he reiterates. "And damn it, I've been in love with you since the moment I first saw you!"
She's shocked and speechless. Of all the things, she never expected this. "I don't know what to say," she eventually utters.
"I don't expect you to say anything. I just need you to know, just this once...about how I feel." His voice softens. "I think you're incredible. You're kind-hearted, good-natured, beautiful and this wonderful force that shouldn't be reckoned with." Voice getting quieter he says, "I thought I should tell you that, in case no one ever does."
"Why did you never tell me this before?" she demands.
"Because it wouldn't have mattered! I have nothing to offer you- how could you possibly feel the same?"
She says nothing to this, but she can feel an ache deep within her that she cannot identify.
"I think you're an amazing man," she says. "And that you're an incredible friend."
He shakes his head. "I want you to see me as more than just your friend."
It's her turn to shake her head. "I can't." She feels her eyes welling up.
"I know. You choose duty over your own happiness and I admire that about you. I admire so much about you."
She looks up at him. No one has ever said words like this before to her; has ever made her feel so special. And yet, she doesn't know how to handle this.
So she says nothing.
Instead, she watches as Arthur smiles sadly at her.
"I guess this is my goodbye to you," he says. "I'm sorry if my words ruined your day."
She shakes her head, but he begins to walk off.
"Arthur, wait!" she cries.
He turns to look at her.
"If the situation were different," she begins, "you'd be at the top of the list." And she knows her words to be true.
She watches as his eyes blaze and before she knows it, he is reaching for her; pressing his lips to hers.
She gasps in surprise as his lips touch hers and the sword in her hands drops to the floor, clanging loudly. His lips move against hers and she can taste the saltiness of tears against his lips, but she cannot tell who they belong to. This kiss isn't sweet or one out of affection. It is a kiss full of desperation and anxiousness, regret and sorrow.
Before she knows it, he is pulling away but his eyes stay locked onto hers; raw emotion passing between them.
"Goodbye Guinevere," Arthur speaks, but his voice is hoarse.
Before she gets the chance to say the same, he is walking off and she is left watching his retreating figure.
She collapses to her knees, grasping her fallen sword as tears fall down her face.
She's finally identified the ache within her.
And it is heartbreak.
xxx
Many hours after, she sits numbly on her bed. His pendant is clasped between her palms and her fingers are intertwined together. All she can think about is the memory of his lips against hers, his raw confession and the realisation that somewhere along the way she fell in love with him too.
If only I knew this before, she thinks.
But she knows that even that couldn't have made a difference. The two of them would never have been allowed.
Slowly, Gwen walks over to her window and waits to see if Arthur will come to practise.
But he never does.
Two days later, her father formally announces her engagement to Lancelot. She stands on the platform with Lancelot beside her. Her father gives a flowing speech about the joy of this union, but she does not hear a word, nor does she take in the affectionate glances Lancelot keeps throwing her way.
Instead, she pictures the life set out before her. She envisions isolation, loneliness and a man who could never possibly understand her.
And she also imagines regret.
The image of Arthur pops into her head, and instantly the feelings of content and completion follow.
She lets out a muffled sob and her father stops what he is saying to look at her.
She looks at him in lament. "I'm sorry father," she begins. "I am not feeling well."
And with that she rushes out of the courtroom.
She runs to Arthur's workshop.
It doesn't matter that she can't run very well in her long, purple dress or that the rain that has begun to fall is impeding her movements. All she knows is that she's got to get to Arthur.
She knows that they are a doomed pair. But she also knows that she doesn't want to live without him; doesn't want to spend the rest of her life wondering what could have happened if she chose him.
She knows that their union will have a price to pay. But whatever it is, she'll pay.
Out of her breath and soaked to the core, she reaches the workshop, but immediately finds out that the shop is locked.
She peers through the window, only to find nobody there and lets out a cry of despair.
She rushes over to Arthur's house and knocks frantically on the door.
But after a long while, there is no answer.
Peering through the windows, she finds the house empty.
Gwen begins to weep.
Arthur's gone and she had no idea where to.
A/N: I know this is really, really mean of me to say, but I do not know when the next update will be. I've signed up to various fic challenges, including Camelot Love's Christmas fic challenge over on lj and various other fic pieces, so I will have to work on those. But hopefully you won't have to wait too long. Thanks for reading and comments greatly appreciated.