Thank you for your continued support. I appreciate it.
I do not own Merlin or the characters, neither do I own Truce: The Historic Neighbor from Hell.
Arthur absently rubbed his ear as they rode through the city.
His mother and father couldn't say enough nice things about Gwen.
And as result, he wanted to hurl.
His brother Henry on the other hand, seemed to agree with them. He nodded quite often and smiled.
Dear God, the man was smitten with the little minx.
'Henry and Guinevere, what a horrifying idea,' he thought. Having her as a sister-in-law would drive him to drink.
Poor Henry, the bloody bastard would be stuck with her day and night.
'Night.'
The idea of his brother experiencing his little minx, was not comforting.
'My minx?'
She wasn't his anything.
But that didn't mean that he wanted her to join the family...because he didn't...and she wouldn't be.
He was going to put a stop to it. Not over jealousy, though.
He had future generations of Pendragons to worry about after all.
Just because the idea of her with another man made his blood boil, did not mean that he was jealous.
It was the opposite in fact.
He didn't want to see any man tied down with such a horrible woman.
"What's going on?" Henry suddenly asked, making Arthur realize, that he'd been glaring at his brother since they'd left the ball.
"Fire!" their coachman yelled, before Arthur could muster an answer. The coach came to an abrupt stop, jolting them all.
"Uther, it's our house!" Lady Igraine Pendragon cried.
"Nonsense!" he huffed, as he leaned over to look out the small square window.
"It is!" Arthur cried.
He was already jumping out of the carriage and running, before his father could respond.
Ahead of him, Lord Abbot and, damn it all to hell, Gwen, was also running towards the large blaze.
Gwen stopped in front of the crying maids.
"Jameson is in there!"
"Who's Jameson?" she asked, getting the attention of the maid closest to her.
"He's the cook's grandson. He's visiting. Oh, he's so small!" the maid cried, her horrified gaze fixed on the townhouse, slowly being consumed by flames.
She grabbed the maid's shoulders, ignoring the smoke and blaze for a moment.
"Where is he?" she asked.
"In the back! In the servants' quarters!"
"Gwen, get back!" her father yelled from the line of men, handling the buckets of water.
"You're sure he didn't make it out?" she asked the maid, ignoring her father's demands.
"Yes! He was crying when they dragged me out!"
"Okay, the back you say?"
"Yes!"
Gwen grabbed a passing bucket of water and poured it on herself.
"My Lady?" the maid asked, stunned by the odd behavior, but Gwen was already off and running into the smoke filled house.
"Gwen!"
"Guinevere!"
She ignored the shouts and pressed her wet shawl to her mouth, so that she could breathe through the thick smoke.
Then she ducked low and moved forward.
Her eyes were already stinging by the time she made it to the front step.
She had no idea where the fire had exactly started, but she had a good idea that it had probably started on the second floor, since she didn't see any hint of flame through the thick smoke.
Old houses like this went up quickly, once the flame took hold, so she knew there wasn't much time to guess.
Gwen moved to the back of the house, jumping over rubble and avoiding the crumbling ceiling along the way, as she prayed that she was headed in the right direction.
"Jameson!" she screamed, coughing, as she made her way through the smoky kitchen to the back rooms.
She hadn't been in this house in over ten years, but she was able to get her bearings, since she knew it as well as her own.
"Jameson!" she yelled again, when she reached the servants' quarters.
And right away, she remembered the cook had the room at the end of the small hallway, so she kept walking, and praying, that nothing had changed, since she'd last been here.
Halfway down the small hallway, a hand wrapped around her arm and pulled her to a stop.
"What the hell do you think you're doing?" Arthur demanded, yelling, so that he could be heard over the loud crackling of fire and the sounds of timber crashing close by.
Desperate to find the little boy, Gwen pushed at his arm, until he let her go and she practically ran to the cook's room.
She threw the door open, and through the smoke, she could just barely make out a small bed made up on one side and a small pallet on the floor, on the other side of the room.
This was the room.
It had to be.
"Jameson!" she called.
"Here," a small voice said, sounding terrified.
"Under the bed!" Arthur yelled.
They both quickly dropped to their knees.
And when Gwen peered under the bed, she nearly wept with relief, when she spotted the small boy curled up under there.
"Come here, sweetheart," Gwen said softly, around a cough, as smoke threatened to suffocate her.
The little boy shook his head.
"Please come, you're worrying your grandmother. You don't want to do that, do you?"
"No," the little boy said, shaking his head. "I'm scared."
"I am, too. I need you to come out here, Jameson, and help me," she said firmly, hoping the demand would be enough to convince him to come out.
The boy thought it over, before reluctantly nodding.
Hesitantly, he reached out and took her hand. But when a loud crack echoed throughout the room a few seconds later, the frightened boy tried to pull back.
That's when Arthur grabbed his arm and yanked him out the rest of the way, before he could move back.
Jameson shrieked in surprise. But Arthur had him in a firm grip.
"Good, let's go," Arthur said, reaching back and taking Gwen's arm.
He pulled her towards the kitchen where they both froze in horror, because the way they'd come, was now engulfed in flames.
"Out the back!" Gwen yelled, tugging on Arthur's hand, as she pulled him towards the door that led to the small garden.
She managed to yank the door open, and the three of them fled the burning house.
"I want my Grandma!" Jameson sobbed.
And Arthur nodded sympathetically.
"We'll take you right to her," he said, as he looked back at the house.
Thankfully, the house was made of thick stone, so it would help slow the spread of flames to other houses and give the men a chance to put out the fire.
They could hear the men shouting orders for more water, while others screamed in fear.
"We'll have to go around the alley," Gwen said, her voice raw from the smoke.
"Let's go," Arthur said in agreement.
Little Jameson wrapped his small arms around Arthur's neck, while they charged through the thick smoke that poured into the alley.
Water thrown on the neighboring roofs to prevent the fire from spreading, dripped down on them as they moved.
And it was welcomed, as the cool water felt good on their overheated, ash covered skin.
Panic welled in Gwen for a brief moment, making her squeeze Arthur's hand, afraid she'd lose them in the smoke.
She knew the street just ahead of them, and as they neared, she tugged none-too-gently on his hand, to get them there, where they both collapsed in coughing fits.
Their lungs cramped under the demand for fresh air.
"Over here!" a man yelled.
Strong hands suddenly clasped Gwen and hauled her up. And in seconds, she was cradled against a sturdy chest, as she rested in someone's strong arms.
She looked up expecting to see her father. Instead, she was looking into Arthur's soot covered face.
She watched a muscle pulse in his jaw as he stared down at her.
"Come on, we need to get you out of here," he said hoarsely.
"Where's Jameson?" she asked, close to panicking, when she didn't spot the little boy.
Had they lost him in the smoke?
"Calm down. He's okay. His grandmother tore him from my arms, before I hit the cobblestone."
"We need more men! More men!" someone screamed.
And both looked over to see wide gaps in the water bucket line.
Without a word, she squirmed out of his arms and ran to fill the gap at the front of the line.
"Guinevere!" Arthur shouted.
But she ignored him. And as soon as she found a spot, she jumped into the rhythm of passing the water buckets to the first man on the ladder and taking the empty buckets out of his hand and passing them back.
And about a minute later, out of the corner of her eye, she saw Arthur followed suit and jump into the line.
Arthur worked hard and fast, but kept his eyes on Gwen.
Her father and Henry were further down in the line, already soaked to the bone. But the women in their party were gone, along with her family's carriage.
It was for the best, she thought. They were completely useless standing around swooning.
Several women, maids mostly, from other households, joined the line upon seeing Gwen.
And soon, the water was moving faster.
Her arms and back were suffering under the constant strain, but she pushed on. She never asked anyone to relieve her and never slowed down.
The houses were mostly made of stone and a good distance apart, but if they didn't get this fire out, there would be nothing to stop the fire from spreading from rooftop to rooftop, until it found a wooden building.
Then, there would be big trouble.
Seven hours later, the fire had consumed everything that it could.
Men were forming lines into the house and putting out smaller fires. And they were very fortunate that the fire hadn't spread further.
The house was in complete ruins, but other than a few burns, no one was seriously injured.
Gwen and the four men...her father, Uther, Henry and Arthur...completely covered from head to toe in wet soot, traveled by the Pendragon's carriage to Bethany House, her family's London seat.
And no one was surprised to find the parlor full of curious women.
However, the little group nodded politely, but didn't answer any questions. They were hungry, tired and sore.
And all Arthur wanted at that moment, was a hot bath, a warm bed and perhaps a warm body to hold.
His gaze shot to Gwen, the same time that hers shot to his. And they held each other's gaze, until one of the men cleared his throat.
"I've had rooms set up for you and hot baths should be awaiting all of us," Gwen's father said, his voice was as scratchy as theirs. "I'll have meals brought up. Get some rest and then later, we'll sit down and figure out some things."
His attention shifted to Gwen.
She swallowed nervously and stepped back into Henry, who steadied her by cupping her elbow with his hand.
"Are you okay?" Henry whispered.
She nodded.
"Thank you for your help, Gwen. I don't think we would have put the fire out as quickly, or would have been this fortunate not to lose anyone in the fire, if the women hadn't joined," he said sincerely.
"Y-you're welcome," she said, a bit embarrassed by all the attention.
"I would have to agree. Thank you, my dear," Lord Pendragon said, bowing to her.
Arthur didn't speak.
His eyes dropped to where his brother held her elbow, before he turned around and gestured for a footman to show him to his room.
Meanwhile, Gwen's father looked both proud and upset.
He leaned in and kissed her cheek.
"Don't ever scare me like that again," he said. "It's not good for an old man's heart, to see his youngest daughter run into a burning building."
"Sorry, Papa," she mumbled as he kissed her forehead.
"Run along and get cleaned up."
"Yes, Papa."
Gwen forced a smile and made her way upstairs.
A nice warm bed sounded so good. But a nice warm, strong body to curl up with sounded better.
She looked towards the guest wing where Arthur was and sighed.
'That would've been very nice indeed.'
Stay safe and enjoy your holidays!