The kiss is slow and lingering, neither wanting for more, afraid of pushing the other too far. It's too new, too fresh, too much to risk.
Guinevere gives a sigh of pleasure as he pulls away, dark eyes fluttering open, unfocused for a moment as she absorbs her surroundings. Her house, yes. The table and the bed and the door. All familiar and comforting. Lancelot.
"Oh" She breathes, drinking in the sight of him, and something warm flares inside her, tingling through her fingers and toes. He is perfect, more than perfect, more than she deserves. His eyes are searching hers, curious.
"Guinevere?" He asks softly, warm hands skitter against her sides. Her breath is ragged, heart racing. A strange sensation builds inside her and Gwen wonders at it, unfamiliar and lovely all in the same moment. She can feel the warmth of his body, so close to hers and she shivers with pleasure, recognising the heat threatening to overwhelm her own body. Need.
She pushes against him then, catches his mouth on hers, no longer gentle but desperate, pushing, pressing their bodies close as if she might melt into him. Lancelot's hands are at her bodice, half pull and half push, fingers like brands as they dance across the skin of her shoulder, down the warm curve of her collarbone.
A whine of protest breaks from her throat as he pushes her away, gently but firmly, and the hot flush of embarrassment works its way over her. She's never behaved this way before, never lost so much control of herself. She knows the look of a man, the sounds of pleasure between kisses, the musky scent on their skin after a days training, even the salty-sweet taste of their mouths. But not the touch. She has never felt skin against skin, never given herself to another. She does not intend to begin today.
Oh, but she would give herself to Lancelot, she knows this. It would be easy, as easy as breathing. She loves Arthur, more than she thought it were possible to love any man, more than is appropriate to do so. She may love him as the people love him, as their prince and one day their king, no more and no less. But even so, even despite the love for Arthur that threatens to overwhelm, it pales against what she feels for Lancelot. The memory of Arthur's kisses are dull and colourless compared to the bright warmth of the man before her, the man whom she may kiss in broad daylight if she so desires. A knight he may be, but he will court whom he wishes, nobility be damned.
So when he asks for her colours to wear to the feast, she gives them. It's the same cloth she gave Arthur once, to wear during the joust, and she knows he will recognise it immediately. She suspects part of her wants him to, but it is not out of bitterness or hurt. It is compassion. If her heart is free to love another, then so too should his.
Arthur has always enjoyed the feast of Imbolc. The beginning of spring is a joyous time, the first green shoots pushing from the cold earth. Winter is at it's end, and Arthur is thankful for the approach of summer.
They drink milk instead of wine this night, served warm and creamy from pitchers and eaten with bread and butter. Later there will be the usual fare, and they will eat heartily, but for now tradition must be followed.
Arthur is unusually impressed at the fine job Merlin has done cleaning his tunic. There is not a trace of the wine that stained it, and he suspects there may have been magic involved, but for his sanity and Merlin's well-being he chooses not to think about it terribly much. Many of the nobles have also dressed in white tonight, a symbol of the new beginnings of the season, pure and virginal. The knights have bright splashes of cloth wound around their arms, the colours of their ladies. This too is tradition, though Arthur never wears any colours, and will not do so until he has married and his wife's colours may adorn his arm. Uther wears Igraine's colours, as he has done every year, a silent reminder of the queen whose death came so soon after this celebration of life.
Lancelot has a pale piece of cloth wound around his arm, barely visible against his tunic but for the material slightly bunched around it. Arthur thinks nothing of this at first, until he notices Gwen's lingering gaze across the room, the smile pulling at the corner of her lips, and he realises he knows that piece of cloth, rode many moons ago with it pressed against his heart.
His jealousy is white hot, his vision hazy, the feast a colourful roar of noise around him but nothing more. He pushes away from the table, storming angrily from the hall. He does not see Merlin watching his every move from across the room, does not see his face contort in sadness as he leaves. He cannot see how Merlin aches, and he cannot know it is all for him.
Arthur does not have to wait long.
"I'm sorry" Gwen says softly, and he pulls her into his embrace, kisses her with all the love and passion he can muster. He feels her surrender, the moment as her lips part and she sighs against his mouth. The corridor is dark and empty but for the two of them, and Arthur is glad for it as he wraps his arms around her waist, and savours the sweetness of her mouth. Too soon she pulls away, her cheeks flushed with colour and it feels like the end of something more.
"Please Arthur" She says softly, her eyes meeting his "Please" And he hears the words she doesn't add, don't fight for me.
"Why?" He asks because there's nothing else and he needs to know, even if it hurts, even if it breaks his heart beyond mending. Gwen's face fills with sadness.
"Because I love him more" It's like a punch to the gut and Arthur very nearly doubles over with the pain of it. He finds to his surprise, that a very small part of him is grateful for her answer, not to have been fed some sweetened nonsense to spare his feelings. It is an odd relief in a sea of pain.
"Will he make you happy?"
"Yes" The smile that lights up Gwen's face is at once beautiful and heartbreaking, and Arthur has lost the battle without even knowing he was fighting it.
"My lord" Gwen says quietly, bowing her head and the moment is gone. She is just a serving girl and he is the prince.
"Tell- tell Merlin I'll be in my chambers" Arthur says without looking at her, turning on his heel to flee the sweet sadness of her face. He wants her to be happy, really he does, and when Lancelot asks for her hand (and he will, Arthur will make sure of that) he will give them his blessing. When they are married he will ensure Gwen has the finest of dresses to wear, and Lancelot has a bright new tunic. When they have sweet, fat babies Arthur will take them on his knee and tell them they have the prettiest mother in all the land and their father is the noblest of knights, and If he feels any pain at all, he will not let it show, for he wants Gwen's happiness more than anything.
Arthur knows, however much is hurts, that Lancelot will love her more than he ever could.
Arthur is surprised indeed to find Merlin waiting for him in his chambers, scrubbing furiously at the dark stain on the stone floor. Arthur supposes he did take a long time to make his way back, had wandered the castle corridors for an age lost in his thoughts. He feels at peace now, though the ache of heartbreak is still strong and painful as it was in that first moment, he does not shy from it. Better to feel all the hurts of the world than to become like his father and feel nothing at all.
"Merlin" He says quietly and Merlin jumps in shock, dropping the wet brush on the stones. His eyes are wide, bluest of blues and Arthur wonders if they were always that colour or if the candle light is playing tricks on him.
"Leave that" He says, failing to suppress a laugh as Merlin carelessly tosses the brush into the bucket at his side, causing water to splash onto the floor. It reminds him that Merlin is still Merlin, underneath the dress and the curves and the sweet blush rising on his cheeks under Arthur's gaze, he's still the useless manservant he always was. It makes Arthur strangely happy, even despite the ache of his chest.
The warm scent of soap swirls around Arthur as Merlin moves to find his leggings, looking a little worse for wear at the end of this long cold winter. His movements are smooth, more fluid than they once were, though it is perhaps just the long skirts disguising the worst of Merlin's clumsiness. Almost on cue, Merlin stumbles, catching himself against the door of the cupboard, and Arthur can't help but give a snort of amusement at that which earns him a scowl and a sigh of exasperation from Merlin.
Merlin's face is illuminated on one side by the fire, eyelashes casting shadows across his cheeks as he slowly rights himself, darkness melting into the pale cream of his skin. Arthur's heart aches with want, for warm curves and soft lips and Merlin is so very lovely that it is easy, too easy, to cross the room and press him against the cold stones of the wall.
Merlin's yelp of surprise is lost in Arthur's mouth, and for a moment he stiffens, palms flat against Arthur's chest in a display of resistance. Contrary to popular belief, Arthur does not actually demand the compliance of whomever he expresses a likeness towards, and he has no intention of making Merlin more uncomfortable than he clearly already is, until he feels Merlin's long fingers curl into the front of his tunic, and the lips against his turn warm and pliant.
Merlin likes it. If the whimper that breaks from his throat as Arthur licks his way into that sweet warm mouth is anything to go by, he likes it a lot. Which makes it all the more confusing when he suddenly pushes Arthur forcefully away, cheeks red and pupils blown wide.
"No" Merlin's voice is steady and calm and filled with the kind of authority Arthur knows he will never have. He knows that until Merlin gives his full consent, he cannot, will not touch him.
"Ale, my lord?" And just like that Merlin slips into himself again, and the ache of loss and want seeps back into Arthur's chest. There is something veiled in Merlin's eyes but Arthur cannot see it, and he finds himself too lost in his own misery and pain to particularly care.
A/N: No hating me! Merlin is too good to be a rebound, and Arthur has to get over Gwen properly before he gets it, but it won't take him too long, I promise :)