Lots of back story and people talking...please bear with me. I just needed to sort out their lives before I could continue. But there is a point to all this; there is a story somewhere in here. For now, pray forgive if I do not come to my points in a more succinct manner.
Feedbacks make my day.
I do not own Merlin. I reiterate that I will never give up on owning the Crowned Prince of Camelot.
Arthur Pendragon lives in a castle. Guinevere had been expecting an elegant, slightly large-ish manor house set a mile or two from its front gate. Arthur's castle; apparently it did not have a name because Arthur's mother's family were called Du Bois and it just would not do for the land owner's castle to bear a French name while sitting smack in the middle of an English village. Changing landscape over the centuries has pushed the village as the focal part Tintagel and the castle now sits on a private property a few miles outside the village; one the miles being the length of the driveway from the front gate to the main courtyard of the castle. It had been dark when they reached Tintagel, but from what little Guinevere could see the castle, as well as the village, was magnificent. The architect in her was intrigued and she could not help being excited with the fact that she was going to spend the next few days in a castle. She promised herself a walk around the village to see the medieval English architecture prevalent there.
"Beautiful, isn't it?" Merlin whispered, as he leaned towards her. They had been quiet in the last hour because they ran out fun and some undoubtedly fictional trivia about Arthur's royal connections. Lance and Morgana had dozed off, but Guinevere could not even close her eyes, there was just so much to see. The journey itself had been great; the English countryside bathed in the evening sunlight; gold accenting the autumn colours of the season. Merlin had been sketching the whole time, while Arthur drove on steadily.
"Stunning," Guinevere replied. She could not help feeling that the word was inadequate to fully encompass the magnificence of the building. She caught Arthur's eyes in the rear view and smiled at him. "Suits you, Arthur."
Arthur smiled, his eyes bright, as he brought the car to a slow halt at the front steps that led to the massive front door of the castle. He killed the engine and all of them piled out of the car, stretching their legs after their long drive.
On top of the stairs, the massive wooden doors swung open and a man came out. He was followed a long line of servants in black uniform. All of them were looking at Guinevere.
Guinevere groaned, a hand to her heart. "This is slightly embarrassing," she said to Lance, who kept his expression bland, but it was obvious from his body language; jaws grim and hands in his pocket, that he was more than slightly uncomfortable with the whole thing.
"Well, they are required to tend to the needs of the guest, so I guess they wanted to know how Guinevere looked like," Arthur explained as he led the way towards the front door. "This is the first time a woman other than Morgana has been here. They were probably curious about how a real woman looked like." The thunk of Morgana's Coach handbag connecting with the back of Arthur's head caused Guinevere to wince but the rest of them, servants included, did not even flinch, as it was probably a usual occurrence.
Arthur rubbed the back of his head and went up the stone stairs, muttering about how no one can handle the truth.
At the top of the stairs, the man who had opened the door stood, flanked by two women. "Phillip, the butler. And Marie and Eliza, my housekeepers," Arthur made the introductions quickly. "I would have died multiple deaths if I had to deal with this castle myself, so these three here are my saviours. Everyone, this is Lance's gir...guest, Guinevere Leodegrance."
The three servants allowed themselves a small smile, before resuming their stoic expressions once again. "Welcome, Miss Guinevere," Phillip spoke. "Miss Morgana." He bowed as he regarded Morgana. "Young masters," he added as Merlin and Lance came to stand by them. "Your rooms are ready..."
Guinevere had been afraid of this part. She did not know if she were to have a room of her own, or share with Lance. That was just the beginning; she did not know if she wanted to share a room with Lance; it was just too early, very early in their relationship. And the home of his best friend is hardly a place for the intimacy that would entail with sharing sleeping quarters.
"Is Guinevere in the guest room next to mine?" Merlin asked and Guinevere could have hugged him for his effort. She noticed a slight awkwardness amongst them when the word 'rooms' were mentioned; she felt like sticking her head into a hole somewhere herself. Thank God for Merlin and his not-so subtle ways; if anyone else had asked about it, it would have been absolutely horrendous.
"No, Master Merlin," Phillip replied. "Miss Leodegrance is in the room next to Miss Morgana, on the second floor."
"Oh, thank God," Merlin said, looking relieved. "Last year, I thought I saw an apparition of one of Arthur's ancestors in a bonnet and a frilly dress."
"Lady Huntington was far from amused when you wandered into her room and then ran off screaming," Arthur said, shaking his head. "I had to take her hideous niece out for three dates as recompense to that."
"That would be the one that smelled like cabbages, right?" Lance asked, recalling the flaxen-haired girl who would have been pretty if she just knew basic hygiene.
"The very one," Arthur confirmed. "Point is, my castle is not haunted by my ancestors, and Guinevere, you must remember to lock your doors at all times. Merlin does not believe in the concept of knocking..."
"And he looses his sense of direction when he's had a few," Lance said, miming taking a drink.
The rest of them, including the servants, nodded their agreement. Merlin tried not to look too offended.
That sorted out, the servants filed back into the castle. Some unloaded the luggage from the Rover. Guinevere was refrained from running to help by Lance who held her hand and assured her it was all right.
"I will never get used to this," Guinevere admitted, as she walked into the castle with Lance.
"I have been coming since I was a child and I am still not used to it," Lance said, smiling at her. "Don't worry about it, Guinevere. You are not offending anyone."
But Lance's words were lost on Guinevere the moment she stepped into the castle. She tried not to be too awestruck, but she was in a castle and she could not help herself. She did not know what she had been expecting from Arthur's home, but it certainly exceeded her expectations. Luxurious, classical and most of all, warm and welcoming, the front hall itself defied her image of a dark, dank building with bats nesting in the corners of the ceiling. There were a million details to see, to admire...her jaw hung open; she felt ridiculous, but it was all right. A place like this deserves her admiration. A place like this puts many other homes featured in magazines to shame.
Turning towards the front door, she saw Arthur watching her with an amused smile on his face. She shrugged, as if giving up on pretending that she was not impressed with what she saw. "Welcome to Tintagel, Guinevere," he said, the smile never leaving his face.
As Lance escorted her up to her room, promising a leisurely tour of the whole place soon, Guinevere could not help thinking about Arthur and the supremely confident smile he wore a moment ago. It was not as if Arthur was anything but confident, but here in Tintagel, she noticed a minute change in him. Arthur was in his element; being what he was born to be. This was Arthur's domain and he was probably amused with her reaction to his home.
He must be thinking she was a dork.
The stray thought stunned her.
Oh God.
Not five minutes in his home and she has already acted like child in a toy shop.
No wonder he was amused; he was probably having a good laugh about it now.
Well, Guinevere was not one to fret over what has already happened; if she tried to make amends for that, she would only make things worse. She also knew that she was definitely going to spend the next few days unable to help herself from being impressed with all that she will see. But, she could, and would, try not to embarrass herself by walking around with her eyes wide open and jaws hung open. That would be most undignified. She will, however, allow herself the luxury of doing that whenever Arthur was not around.
It was not until she in her room that she realized she was more concerned about making an impression on Arthur than contemplating the direction of her 'whatever-ship' with Lance.
Perhaps the best thing to do was to let things take their course. They have the whole weekend to contemplate and she really did not see why they...she should rush into a conclusion. Things are going great so far.
All she has to do was try not to get to overwhelmed with Arthur, his castle and his devastating smile.
Morgana made a quick stop at her room in the second floor; everything was as she left it when she down for a visit three weeks ago, and went to look for Arthur. At the landing of the second floor, she was stopped by Phillip, who was carrying a cloth sack. She knew why he was there; Arthur had probably sent to confiscate their mobile phones, laptops, PDA and whatever electronic device that could remind them of their working place. Morgana had already packed all her stuff into a bag and handed it to Phillip who, after collecting form Merlin and Lance, would deliver it to the dungeon. The dungeon was an actual dungeon that Arthur had transformed into their own personal electronics room. It was manned by the head gardener's son, who came in every time Arthur was at the castle. The boy's job was to monitor their mobiles and PDAs for calls and inform them via written notes. He gets five hundred pounds for his troubles and the rest of them get a worry-free weekend. It was a win-win situation.
Morgana enquired about Arthur's whereabouts and Phillip informed her that he was in his study, sorting out his program for the weekend. Morgana thanked Phillip and made her way to Arthur's study in the first floor. When she reached it, she knocked and entered, hoping he would be alone. She had an important matter to discuss with him.
"Yes, Morgana?" Arthur asked, looking up from the sheaf of paper he was studying. He was sitting at the heavy oak table that his great-grandfather had brought from India on one of his trading expeditions there. Anyone looking at him now would have been unnerved by the apparently indifferent manner he displayed; both bare feet casually on the table, his heavy coat on the floor in front of the desk. It was almost as if he did not know or care for the family history embedded in each item in the room. But Morgana knew better. This was Arthur dealing with the opulence he had been born into. At one stage, it had been a burden for him; to live up to the expectations of his father and of the family name. Somewhere along the line, he had come to realize that he could not be anyone but himself and slowly allowed himself to accept that and embrace his family's legacy. This was all his and he did not have to uptight about it; he learnt he could still be his own person without letting the objects and history around him to influence his actions and thoughts.
"I saw you," Morgana said, going straight to the point. She was horrified to see his Burberry jacket on the floor; she picked it up but decided to get back to him on the importance of treating his clothes well another time. Right now, there was something else more important she needed to talk to him about.
"And I am seeing you," Arthur said, putting the paper aside and pushing his chair away from the table.
"You were looking at her," Morgana said and watched as Arthur finally understood what she was talking about. He got up from his seat and busied himself with rearranging the papers he had been reading. "Arthur..."
Morgana's tone made Arthur look up from his papers. "I don't know what you're talking about," Arthur he said, a defiant look on his face.
"You were looking at Guinevere through the rear-view mirror..." Morgana began, but Arthur interrupted her.
"I was driving, Morgana," Arthur argued, looking incredulous. "I think looking into the rear – view is constituted as a standard safety measure."
"It was blatant flirting!" Morgana countered. "One – sided. And sad. And I noticed this at the Hall too. I thought it I was just imagining things but today...well, today was an eye-opener."
Arthur put down the paper he was holding and looked at Morgana. "First of all, Morgana," he said. "No one uses the word blatant anymore. At least no one under thirty does. And it may be one – sided; but it is not sad. It's called attraction."
"She is with your best friend," Morgana said, hands on her hips. "Why don't you try to be attracted to someone else?"
"I know that," Arthur said, not raising his voice because they were, in all honesty, not arguing. Morgana was concerned and sometimes she has a rather abrasive way of showing it. "But we can't help these things, Morgana. You know that."
Morgana scoffed, shaking her head in disbelief. "That is your justification? You can't help yourself? That you are a male?"
"I am not going to seduce her or anything," Arthur said. "I am a man, Morgana. You put a beautiful woman in front of me, I am bound to react."
"You have never reacted this way to any of his previous girlfriends," Morgana pointed out, eyes narrowed. "Why is Guinevere so...interesting to you?"
Arthur caught the look on Morgana's face; the determined look that meant she would pursue relentlessly for an answer. Arthur had no choice. He had to give her answer, and because it is Morgana, only an honest one would do, because she always knew when he lied to her. "She is smart. And she was not very impressed when she first met me. And I was wearing a towel at that time..."
Morgana rolled her eye, halting Arthur's slightly narcissistic reply. "She was probably too traumatized to be impressed."
Arthur did not want to remark on that. He just shook his head. Apparently, he was not done yet. "She is beautiful and smart..."
"You've already mentioned that," Morgana said, taking a seat on the armchair near the fireplace. She needed to sit now that she knows the extent of Arthur's 'attraction' towards Guinevere.
"She is not impressed with who I am at all," Arthur told her again. "She is impressed with my castle, but castles have that kind of effect on people, so I really can't say if ..."
"Shut up, Arthur," Morgana sighed, rubbing her temples. She saw a lot during their drive down to Tintagel. She saw Arthur looking at Guinevere through the rear-view mirror; it seemed to Morgana that Arthur had his eyes on Guinevere more than he had on the road. And Guinevere, is just human after all. A female human, who knew she was being watched. She might have looked at him once or twice, but Morgana was not sure the extent of it. She cannot just walk up to Guinevere and ask how it felt to have her stepbrother eyeing her while he drove. And the thing about Guinevere not being impressed, Morgana was not sure Arthur got that right. Guinevere was impressed, most impressed. She just had a little more self – control than many girls out there.
Suddenly, Merlin burst into the room, causing Morgana to almost have a heart attack. "Merlin! For God's sake, won't you..."
"I saw you," Merlin said, walking right up to Arthur. "You were looking at Guinevere." Then, he saw Morgana. "Morgana, did you tell him about his blatant flirting?"
"Oh God," Arthur groaned, slumping back to his seat again. "I can't believe this is happening."
"Indeed," Morgana remarked, glaring at Arthur. This was going to be a long evening.
Guinevere was trying to find her way into to the dining room when she got lost in the first floor. She was told by Phillip, who came for her mobile phone and laptop, that dinner would be served in half and hour. She declined his offer to escort her to the dining room; she still needed to freshen up. Standing at the end of a long hallway on the first floor, Guinevere wished she had made one last phone call to Lance, to come and get her. However, her mobile phone had been taken to the dungeon at the orders of the lord of the castle and here she was, lost.
She took a deep breath and walked down the hallway, trying every door as she did. The first two did not budge, but the third one was open. She opened the door and entered the room, hoping to find a phone so that she could call the local police to help her find her way to the dining room in Arthur's castle.
The room was larger than her bedroom and was obviously a sitting room. The wall opposite the door was a huge bay window with window seats, while the other two walls were lined with rows and rows of shelves filled with framed photographs and knick-knacks and souvenir from all around the world. A large table in the middle of the room held a flower arrangement that looked like a trophy itself. Intrigued, Guinevere stepped inside the room, heading for one of the shelves. She picked up a random photograph; it was of Arthur, Lance and Merlin, sitting in a row and blowing didgeridoos. They looked slightly unkempt, with the three of them sporting beards. Merlin was wearing a floppy hat with corks hanging on the inside of the brim. She smiled and was about to put it back when a soft, shuffling sound behind her cause her to turn.
It was a man, probably in his sixties, with slightly long grey hair that was almost white. He had a kindly look about him. "Hello, Guinevere," he greeted her, as he came into the room. Guinevere was surprised when he spoke her name. He came to stand before her and took her hand into his, engulfing hers in his large ones. His blue eyes twinkled. Guinevere felt an instant liking for this man. "I am Gaius, the local GP, Merlin's godfather and old friend of Arthur's family."
"Hello, Gaius," Guinevere said. "It's nice to meet you."
"I am sorry I did not come out to greet your arrival," Gaius apologized. "One of the maids in the kitchen had minor accident involving boiled potatoes. A minor burn on her wrist but plenty of hysterics. We will not be having potatoes with our steaks tonight."
"Thanks for the heads-up." Guinevere smiled. "I got lost on the way to the dining room and wandered in here by mistake."
"I shall be delighted to take you down for dinner," Gaius said. Glancing around the room, he continued, "This is a good place to get lost. It is their glorified photo album."
"It seems they have been to every single place in the planet," Guinevere said, encompassing all that she has seen with a wave of her hand.
"They have not been to Wales together," Gaius remarked. "They have been there separately on many occasions, but every time they plan a trip there together, something will happen, causing them to postpone or cancel. Merlin say they are forever jinxed from visiting Cymru. Arthur claims it is possibly karma due because Merlin is a vegetarian." He caught Guinevere's frown and shrugged, his way of explaining the perplexing logic of the trio. "The travel bug bit them when Lance and Arthur graduated. Their first round-the-world adventure was courtesy of Uther Pendragon when Merlin graduated from the university," Gaius said, as Guinevere looked at the other photographs on the shelf. She recognized Mexico, the western states of the USA, central European countries and India. Merlin wore a silly hat in each photograph. "Arthur and Lance had taken a sabbatical and they packed a backpack each. They travelled in business class to every destination, but the moment they stepped out of the airport, all they had was fifty pounds to share amongst them for food and boarding for how ever long they were staying in the place. To supplement this, they often worked part – time, in bars, farms, restaurants...anywhere that paid them minimal wage. They did manners of work, some legal and some too illicit to be anything but legal. It was the only way they claimed they could see the real world. I am just glad they weren't arrested or anything..."
Guinevere giggled, putting the photograph of the three of them riding a horse-drawn carriage in what looked like Romania back to its place on the shelf. She inspected further along the shelf and found a photograph framed in an ornate silver frame. It was of a woman of exceptional dark beauty and a young boy who could not have been more than two or three years old. The boy inherited his mother's exquisite features; Lance, for there was no mistaking the toddler's dark eyes, had been one of those babies that were naturally good – looking since birth. Not cute, but genuinely good – looking; the kind of good looks that one knows would bloom into a spectacular beauty.
"She's beautiful," Guinevere mused, looking at the woman in the photograph. Lance's mother should have been, at the very least, an actress.
"Sonia Arantxa Iniesta was a student from Spain when she visited the Cornwall coast and fell in love with a French wildlife photographer," Gaius explained, picking up the photograph and looking at it with fondness. "Their fling lasted three weeks and he had to leave, to return to Marseille to his wife and two sons. Sonia knew this but there was just too much passion in her suppress what she felt was only natural. She could not go back to Spain, not after finding out she was with a child. The decision made, she settled in Tintagel, after accepting a post as nurse in the local GP's surgery..."
"She worked for you?" Guinevere enquired. She could not help feeling just a little sorry for the dark-eyed woman in the photo; falling madly in love with a married man and leaving the life she knew for the uncertainty of being a single mother in a strange place. It would have taken a woman of singular courage and will to do what she had done.
"She did, though I kept telling her she was overqualified to be a nurse in a village," Gaius continued. "But she said she had enough, Lance's father knew about him and sent them money whenever he could. She could not bear the thought of leaving Tintagel, she wanted her son to grow amidst the beauty of this place..."
"She must have been a great mother," Guinevere mused. The photograph, taken at the beach, showed Sonia laughing as she held her son and pointed to the camera. The close way she held her baby, her carefree smile indicated a mother who had allowed her child to find his way in the world by himself, without letting him go too far from her.
"She was," Gaius said. His words may be simple, but there was truth to it. "She was dying when this photo was taken." Gaius's words stunned Guinevere. She took the photograph from his hand looked at it. There was absolutely nothing wrong with the beautiful woman in it. She was laughing, she was holding her son; she looked fine. "Breast cancer that went undetected for far too long. She died three months after this photograph. She never allowed any photos after this one, claiming her son had to see her when she was the happiest. Lance was three and when his father came to take him back with him, he refused to let go of Hunith, Sonia's best friend. Hunith, bless her, had decided even before Sonia's death that she will honour her friend's wishes and raise the child at Tintagel. Lance's father was reluctant, but he knew it was the best for the child. He left, never to return again. All Lance knew of him was from the Christmas cards he sent and the trust fund he set up for Lance. His father was quite successful and prosperous; Lance was given the best any child could ask for and Hunith raised Lance as if he was her own son..." As he spoke, Gaius scanned the shelves for something. When he found what he was looking for, he picked it up. He handed Guinevere another photograph, this framed in what looked like a child's handiwork; a card box cut into a frame, painted and stuck with small seashells and a sorry-looking feather.
"That's Merlin," Guinevere exclaimed when she recognized the dark-haired, pale boy in the picture; the goofy grin was unmistakable. Merlin was wearing long robes and a pointed wizard's cap that was twice as tall as he was. He was probably six or seven at the time the picture was taken. He stood next to a brown-haired woman, who had the kindest eyes Guinevere had ever seen. Hunith, she guessed. Merlin has her eyes. There were two other boys in the picture too; one dark-haired and another blond. It was easy to guess who they were. Lance and Arthur were in what looked like a knight's outfit.
"And that's Hunith," Gaius said. "The photo was taken at Arthur's seventh birthday. Hunith had read them Lord of the Rings the previous winter and Arthur had insisted on a party themed around it. Merlin was Gandalf, Lance was supposed to be from Gondor and Arthur from...from..."
"Rohan," Guinevere concluded for him, recognizing the emblem on his tunic. She had done Tolkien in reverse; movies first and then the books.
"Yes," Gaius said. "They were mad about Tolkien, those three. As was Hunith. She's my brother's daughter and loved all three boys."
"Where is she now?"
"Hunith and Balinor, Merlin's father, died in a car accident when Merlin was seventeen," Gaius said, sighing.
Guinevere was stunned when she heard this. In just fifteen minutes in the room, she has learnt more about the past of these people than she had in all of the two weeks she has known Lance and, give or take a few days, Merlin. Their past was not like others; normalcy seems a foreign concept with them. She thought Lance would, at least, have a normal past. But all they had was tragedy.
"Are you all right, my dear?" Gaius asked, noticing Guinevere's silence. Guinevere looked at the older man and smiled wanly, nodding to indicate she was fine. "Their past is very tragic, but I think they turned out well, don't you?"
"Because they had each other and you?" Guinevere said, knowing she spoke the truth. The friendship that existed between the three guys and Morgana was a bond that surpassed its given name; what they had between them was even more stronger and deeper than just friendship...it was kinship. Each was their own person, but within them, they carried a piece of each other. Gaius was probably the only adult included in their little circle. They did not speak much of Gaius on their way here, but the older man's intimate knowledge of their past revealed that he was an ally to them.
"More of each other and less of me," Gaius remarked, smiling. "Did you know that Arthur adopted Merlin after Hunith's death?" Guinevere's surprised look confirmed to Gaius that she had no inkling of this. "Merlin was three weeks short of his eighteenth birthday when Hunith and her husband died. As per the laws, Merlin was still a minor, thus had to be sent to a foster home. When talking did not work, Arthur took the decision and adopted Merlin." Gaius's was telling a rather serious story, but he could not keep the smile from his face. "Arthur was twenty – one and apparently, a trust fund is considered stable source of income."
Guinevere was not sure if she wanted to laugh or cry. It was just one of those moments that does not require any rational thinking because it makes complete sense and no sense at all the same time.
"Arthur would do anything for his friends," Gaius said, as he led Guinevere towards another section of the shelves. More photographs, more souvenirs, including a tall clear jar containing what looked like a dead mouse foetus in embalming liquid. Guinevere looked at the jar and then at Gaius, who shook his head, indicating that she was better of not knowing. She turned her attention to some of the framed portraits in the rooms, mostly of Arthur's ancestors; blond-hair, blue eyes and that unintentional look of arrogance were very prominent among them. She glanced through most of them, but stopped short when she across one of Arthur taken in an opulent drawing room. He was wearing a tailored suit and a long, trailing velvet cloak. Two gold-link necklaces were fastened to his robe, each with a large pendant hanging just above his cummerbund. He was standing near the fireplace, hands by his side, smiling for the sake of smiling. His posture may be relaxed, but the look in his eyes indicated otherwise. Below portrait was an engraved sign in Old English script that read:
A. A. P. T PENDRAGON
19TH MARQUIS OF TINTAGEL
22ND SEPTEMBER 2008
"Arthur Archibald Percy Tristan Pendragon," Gaius offered an explanation without prompt. "His family dug up almost all the names of his Du Bois and Pendragon ancestors before Ygraine, his mother, put an end to it. Arthur became the marquis after his uncle died at the ripe old age of ninety eight." He pointed to a smaller portrait next to Arthur's that showed a young woman in a similar room as Arthur was in his portrait. Arthur's mother was one of the angelic beauties that one could not help but to stare, just to make sure they were seeing right. She was a vision of beauty, purity and kindness. Guinevere has never seen anyone like her before. And she knows, she never would. Arthur's only parent was his father Uther. Ygraine must have passed away.
"Three months after giving birth to Arthur." Gaius remarked, as if he could read what was going on in Guinevere's mind. "She had always been a fragile child and her pregnancy took its toll on her. She died here, which is Uther would not step into this place unless he could not help it. She was born here, as was Arthur, thus his attachment to this place. I still remember once, when he was seven, he told me that the things in the castle are very fortunate to have been seen and touched by his mother. He knows she was too sick by the time he was born, so he believes she never saw much of him..."
Guinevere's vision blurred, as she felt a sharp pricking in her eyes. She blinked her tears away; it would not do to cry, not in front of Gaius. If Gaius saw Guinevere's reaction, he never showed it. He took her hand and led her out of the room. "Uther took Arthur back to London, to raise his son himself. Or so he said. When Tristan, Ygraine's brother, visited them one day, he was appalled to see his nephew raised by nannies and servants. He brought Arthur back to Tintagel when he was a year old; countering Uther's objections by claiming he was only doing what Ygraine would have done. Uther had no say in the matter and became a father during the holidays. Arthur was raised by his uncle and was a regular at my surgery; the boy just could not go through the week without a scratch to show for it. It was during one of these visits that he met Lance and Merlin, when they were five and two years old. They had been in the waiting room; Merlin and Lance were another one of my regulars. Arthur showed them a frog he had in his pocket and shared the toffee he had stashed, in the same pocket with the frog, I might add. They bonded over frog-catching and spend a week in the surgery after suffering from food poisoning brought on by frog-exposed toffee..."
This time, Guinevere was laughing so hard that she had to stop walking and steady herself. Being absurd was not a recent affliction with them, she concluded. Those three had been at it since they were young.
"See, Guinevere, you still managed to laugh after hearing all the tragic stories," Gaius said, as they began to walk again. "That is how they have lived and are living their lives. They have accepted the past, its tragedies, and heartbreak and held on to each other for strength. Their past has given them much sadness, but it also gave them each other. They have used that and...Here we are today..."
As he said this, Gaius stopped in front of a door. He opened it, to reveal the three guys and Morgana, looking very worried. A collective sigh went up as the rest of them were relieved to see Guinevere safe. Arthur passed the walkie-talkie he had been talking into to his butler as they took their seats at the vast dining table that could easily seat another dozen diners.
"Thank you," she mouthed to Gaius, who was seated beside her at the table. He gratitude was not just for finding her, but for Gaius trusting her enough to tell her about them.
Gaius nodded, understanding. He leaned over and whispered, "Welcome to the family, Guinevere." He reached for her hand on the table and squeezed it. "You make a beautiful addition to it."
All Guinevere could do was blush and duck her head. Looking around her, Guinevere realized that her perspective of them had changed profoundly. These people were truly remarkable individuals, to have emerged from such tragic pasts into who they are today. Such was the power of their bond. She could not help feeling honoured to be allowed a glimpse into their lives; she knew she still had a long way to go before she would be part of that bond amongst them. But for now, this privilege was...fantastic.
Another few more chapters to go, in my estimation, but, my muses have the final say in the matter. Holidays are coming up, so I will try to post / update sooner. For all of you who have 'alerted' this author, 'favourited' the story and general kept your patience, thank you ever so much. I love you all.