***This part was written after a particularly harrowing month. My house was robbed, thus all my writing came to a jarring halt for weeks. However, as if the universe was signalling to me, the first programme I saw when I switched on the TV after all police had left was Merlin and I did not even know it was supposed to be on at that time. A television show is hardly the consolation my family needed after loosing our jewellery and cash, but it was reassuring nonetheless to know that there are things out there can put a tiny smile on my face; a very tiny smile, but a smile nonetheless. I do not know why I wrote this down. Perhaps I needed to share. So, please, just bear with me. My family have lost half a lifetime's worth of hardwork and sacrifice.
***And I think this story should be set before the World Cup. With England crashing out to Germany (THAT was a goal!), the present day situation would not render Arthur Pendragon with much joy and cheer (I know he is an England supporter while Lance would be rooting for Spain. Merlin would just go along for the ride and spend his World Cup irritating his friends with a vuvuzela...at least, my version of Merlin would).
I do not own Merlin. I will never give up on owning the Crowned Prince of Camelot.
Feedbacks make my day.
"Behold the creature Emrys, as it emerges from its hole in search of sustenance." Arthur's Attenborough-esque narration welcomed a squinty – eyed Merlin into the sunny and cheerful breakfast room. The rest of them were there, marvelling to themselves and with each other at how early they have gotten up on their day off.
"Bleh," was Merlin's reply. There was a small bump on his forehead. He was not as adept in negotiating the layout of the castle as he was at his flat. He had bumped into the fireplace in his room. The aftermath of his journey from his room on the first floor to the breakfast room in the ground floor included a shattered vase that had survived a hundred years and two World Wars and a maid who has to refold the newly-washed linen again after Merlin had collided into her while she was carrying the laundry in. She was new and no one had warned her about Merlin's inability to see in the morning.
"The creature Emrys is very articulate in the mornings," Arthur continued, as Merlin took his seat at the round breakfast table.
"Stop picking on him," Morgana said, as she piled some toasts on his plate. Guinevere poured a cup of coffee and placed it near him. Arthur and Lance exchanged looks, shaking their heads, their emotions an equal part of disgust and marvel at how Merlin managed to snag the sympathy of the females in his company so early in the morning.
Merlin thus settled, Arthur turned his attention to the rest of them. "All right, plans," he said, rubbing his hands together.
"Behold the Pendragon penchant for organizing and bossing people around," Merlin muttered, having regained his speech after a caffeine hit.
It was the presence of the girls at the table that deterred Arthur from launching a roll towards Merlin's head. But he still had other means of getting his displeasure known. "Lance?" he glanced at his friend. Lance, seated next to Merlin, obliged immediately with a smack across the back of Merlin's head.
"Ouch!" Merlin howled. It could not have been that painful, but it managed to extract a whole lot of unnecessary sympathy from Morgana and Guinevere.
"Thanks, mate," Arthur said to Lance, who gave a two-fingered salute in response.
"As I was saying, before I was so rudely interrupted," Arthur said, keeping a wary eye on Merlin. "Today's the opening of the fair. I also promised Gaius we'd drop in at his surgery..."
"But Gaius doesn't have medication for Arthuritis Pendragonitis," Merlin said, perkier now that his system has got its full hit of java. He was also more alert now; leaning slightly to his right, away from Lance's reach.
Arthur was about to request yet another intervention from Lance, when surprisingly, Guinevere spoke up. "And what are the symptoms of Arthuritis Pendragonitis, Merlin?" she asked, as she buttered her toast. She sounded serious, but it was plain to see she was holding back her laughter. Morgana smiled, glad that Guinevere did not feel awkward amongst them anymore. If she could tease the master of the castle, then Guinevere must really be comfortable with them.
Merlin was delighted with Guinevere's inquiry; he never backs down from any chance to tease Arthur. "The physical symptoms manifest as acute ugliness that may be wrongly interpreted as good looks by the patient of the disease," he said as he edged his seat closer to Morgana to protect himself from possible violence. "And then there would be the overwhelming need to know what's going on with everyone at all the time. There is also the compulsive need to organize everything. But this should not be mistaken for Morganitis..."
Merlin should have known better. Morgana looked up from her cereal, an eyebrow raised. Merlin grinned at her sheepishly, but it was too late for apologies.
"Lance?" she said.
Lance's reaction was immediate. He stood up and easily laid another smack on Merlin's head. This time, sympathy was not so forthcoming for Merlin. Guinevere was laughing so hard that the glass of orange juice in her hand was on the verge of slipping. Lance reached over, took the glass from her hand and placed it on the table, next to her plate.
"Right," Arthur said, once the 'festivities' were over. "We'll go to Gaius's surgery and then to the village fair. We'll meet up here for lunch. Then in the evening, we have a wedding to attend. Mr. Cavendish's daughter is getting married. We're dressing up, so please, Morgana, do you bit for the public and see to it that Merlin is at least colour – coordinated."
"Artistic license..."Merlin began, but Morgana put a hand over his, stopping him from offering his explanation.
"Hush, darling," she said, as if speaking to a child. "We know what is best for you, us and the whole village. We can do this the easy way, or the hard way. I am all right with both, but I don't think Guinevere should be exposed to violence, especially after we promised her a peaceful weekend at the country."
Morgana was smiling and speaking in gentle voice, but Merlin knew better than to cross with her when it came to clothes. He held his peace.
Thus settled, breakfast resumed once more. Morgana put down her cup of tea, remembering something. "I can't go to the surgery with you. I've got the Ladies' Club tea at ten, so I will just meet you for lunch," she told them, wiping her mouth with a napkin. "I'll drive to the vicar's and meet the rest of you later."
They continued with breakfast as Morgana gave a brief history of Tintagel Ladies' Club to Guinevere. Just then, Phillip entered the breakfast room discreetly. He excused himself and passed a folded note to Lance. Lance thanked Philip and took the note. He opened it with a frown. The rest of them waited for Lance to read it; Merlin paused with his toast half-way to his mouth as the suspense mounted.
"Wonderful," Lance said, crumpling the note in disgust. He finished the last of his coffee before divulging the content of the apparently distressing note. "There's been a massive computer crash at Layout Department..."
"Online porn," the rest of them chorused together, shaking their head.
"Or a virus," Lance suggested, defending his colleagues who probably did download smut on the computer at work. "They lost the main computer and the back – up files. They called up and said they needed the Cardiff pictures stat or tomorrow's weekend feature would be about the quilting ladies from Surrey who are aiming to break the world record by making the world's largest quilt."
"Charming," Arthur remarked, wondering who would actually read stuff like that. Lance had a real national emergency in his hand; the weekend feature should be about the English rugby team not a yawn – fest.
"Exactly," Lance replied. "So they want me to e-mail them copies of the photos to them." Shaking his head, he continued, "Guess I'm stuck with work for a bit." Turning to Guinevere, he said, "I am sorry, Gwen."
"That's all right," Guinevere said, smiling. "Merlin and Arthur can show me around."
"And who better to show Guinevere around than the marquis himself," Morgana pointed out, solemnly.
"Off to the dungeons with you then, Lance du Lac," Arthur exclaimed, gesturing with his glass of orange juice.
The rest of them looked at Arthur, eyebrows raised in disdain. Guinevere was the only one smiling.
"How long have you wanted to say that?" Merlin asked, shaking his head.
"A very long time," Arthur admitted. "I have a dungeon, so, it's only natural that I'd want to say something like that."
"I can't help but to feel sorry for you, mate," Lance said, patting Arthur's shoulder.
Arthur narrowed his eyes, as he reached for the bacon dish. The plan was revised; Merlin and Arthur would take Guinevere to visit Gaius and they will meet up with Lance at the fair. Breakfast resumed as Phillip entered the room again, this time with a message to Merlin.
"The produce lady is here, Master Merlin," Phillip said quietly.
Merlin was surprised at the announcement. "My buyer's a man," he muttered almost to himself, as he got up from his seat and excused himself from the table. There was five second of silence and inactivity in the breakfast room after Merlin and the butler had left before all of them rushed towards the bay window that faced the inner courtyard of the castle, were Merlin was headed. From their vantage point, they saw a white van parked near the back entrance of the castle. The van bore the sign 'Sebastian & Co. Wholesalers and Distributors of Organic Produce'. As Merlin appeared from the east entrance of the castle, the driver's door of the van opened and a petite, dark-haired woman stepped out.
"She's cute," Morgana remarked, as the girl, who could no older than Merlin, took a few steps away from the van to greet him. Merlin, who quickly adjusted his steps that had faltered shortly when he saw her, smiled broadly as he approached her.
"They would look so adorable together." Morgana agreed to Guinevere's observance most enthusiastically.
Merlin shook hands with the girl, the rest of them disappointed they could not hear what he saying to her.
"Um…I know Merlin's a vegetarian but does he buy his organic produce in bulks?" Guinevere asked, frowning. "They're not that hard to come by, are they?"
"The only things Merlin buys in bulks are cheese sticks and sunflower seeds," Lance said.
"Which confirms our suspicions that Merlin is closely related to or possibly a whole new species of rabbit," Arthur added.
Morgana groaned. Turning away from the window, she gave Guinevere the actual reason for Merlin meeting with the wholesaler. "Merlin and Lance own an organic farm in Tintagel. The beets and carrots grown here are sold all over the country."
Guinevere nodded, keeping her surprise to a minimal level at the revelation.
Lance, however, was compelled to continue, in an effort to downplay Morgana's explanation. "It was just a bit of unused land near Merlin's mother's house. Arthur suggested an organic farm and then..." He shrugged, before he continued. "Since my work takes up most of my time, it's Merlin who handles all the farm-related affairs…" Another shrug and he remained quiet, as if he had ran out of things to say. Guinevere nodded; knowing that when it comes to talking about himself, Lance speaks in shrugs and tortured expressions.
They watched the proceedings in the courtyard for another five minutes or so, before realizing that Merlin and the girl were probably not discussing produce anymore. Not by the casual way the produce girl was leaning against the front of her van and Merlin with one hand on the van's windshield, his back turned pointedly towards the rest of them. They were both laughing and the rest of them in the castle knew that beets and carrots are not really that funny to begin with.
"Maybe Merlin will invite her to the ball," Morgana said, looking hopeful.
"They just met," Arthur pointed out, keeping his cynicism in check.
"Well, she does drive a van. And Merlin drives a …never mind. Above all, she's cute. So who knows…" Guinevere mused, smiling.
The rest of them grinned at Guinevere's observation. A minute later, Merlin's meeting with the girl ended. He helped her into the van and closed the door after her; taking a step back when she gunned the engine. He waved until the van disappeared from view and turned around so quickly that the rest of them had no time to react. He narrowed his eyes at them; the most he could do seeing that Morgana and Guinevere were around and rude finger gestures were out of the question. He marched back inside the castle.
By the time he reached the breakfast room, however, all four of them had miraculously finished breakfast and were headed out of the room.
"A quick tour of the castle, Gwen?" Lance asked. "Arthur and Merlin won't leave until Arthur has spoken to Phillip and we have some time before you leave for Gaius's surgery."
"That would be lovely. Thank you," she said, finishing her coffee. She dabbed her mouth with her napkin and excused herself. Lance, already taken his leave from the table, held the door open for her. He took her hand and led her out of the room, calling out, "See you guys in a bit," over his shoulder. The door closed behind them and a leaden silence fell in the breakfast. Looking away from the door, Merlin turned his glance to Arthur and Morgana.
Both Pendragons wore a similar look, a slight smile and the unmistakable look of unintentional hurt in their eyes. Merlin closed his eyes, taking a deep breath.
They could not help themselves.
They want nothing but the best for Lance, but despite their good intentions, they had two weaknesses.
They were only humans, after all.
And like all humans, their hearts seems to interfere with their logical thinking.
"Snap out of it, you two!" Merlin's tone was deliberately cross.
Arthur and Morgana recovered immediately and looked lost momentarily, before locking identical glares at Merlin. They rolled their eyes at him and headed for the door. Merlin put his hand on the door knob, halting them.
"Look, I know it is not easy, but may I just remind you that what happened moments ago is the consequence of your choices," Merlin pointed out. "Morgana for wanting to see Lance happy and you, Arthur, simply because you feel that since it's your castle, you are entitled to be attracted to your best friend's girl…guest."
Arthur opened his mouth to deny it, but Merlin put up a hand to interrupt him. "If you speak now, you are only convincing yourself," he told him. Merlin then sighed and looked at both of his friends, his grim expression softening just a little. "You guys did great last evening and this morning, but it's not enough just saying you guys want to seem him happy when your faces betray you…"
"Should we go sulk in private then?" Arthur asked. This whole topic was getting rather sensitive for him.
"I don't want to sulk," Morgana said, looking horrified.
"I understand, Morgana," Merlin said quickly. "There shouldn't be any sulking anyway." He shot Arthur a pointed look as he said this. Arthur was surprised when he heard this, but his silence assured Merlin that he got the message.
"That's much better," Merlin said. "Now, just be normal. Or your versions of normal. He's happy, she's happy. We have no right to ruin that equation."
Arthur and Morgana nodded. Merlin moved aside from the door and allowed them to pass. As they stepped unto the hallway, Merlin had one more thing to add.
"Just try not to think of them kissing or anything."
The echo of the smack administered by both Pendragons on Merlin's shoulder reverberated along the entire hallway.
"Thanks a lot, Merlin!" they each said, before walking away in opposite directions.
"I was only trying to help," Merlin called out, talking to himself. He winced as he touched his shoulder and just then, Eliza passed the hallway. Merlin gave half a pout and she immediately felt a wave of sympathy for the young man. The household staffs were all fond of him and soon, Merlin was in the kitchen, seeking treatment for the pain in the neck brought on by the exposure to Arthuritis and Morganitis. He was apparently cured after devouring half a dozen freshly baked shortcakes and a tall glass of milk, courtesy of the head cook, who had promised him more snacks should he experience any symptoms of the diseases again.
Lance was showing her the oldest section of the castle, the main hall, when Guinevere had an epiphany. It struck her unexpectedly as Lance showed the foundation stone laid by the first Du Bois to build the castle. She instantly felt bad that her thoughts were occupied with this epiphany; the foundation stone laid six – hundred years ago deserved much more respect and admiration that she could muster at that moment. Nevertheless, as she walked with Lance into the main hall to begin their tour of the castle, that single thought kept replaying in her mind.
She wanted Lance to kiss her.
Guinevere was surprised that such a thought would occur to her at this time, but even more surprising than that was the intensity of it to happen right then. A student of architecture, she should be giddy with joy at experiencing the rich history and beauty of the castle, but all she wanted was Lance to kiss her. And they were not even on a plane; the ground cannot get any more solid than the floor of Arthur's castle.
Lance was in the middle of the room, on his haunches near the foundation stone, telling her the history of the castle. Or so he thought. Guinevere was near the doorway, wondering why this errant thought of hers could not come at a less inconvenient time; like in the evening, or when they were out of the castle. She felt as if she should not be thinking of kissing Lance, let alone act out on the idea of kissing Lance, in the castle. It felt wrong in so many levels and thankfully, since her mind is preoccupied with getting Lance to kiss her, she did not have the time to think why it would be so wrong to kiss Lance in the castle.
Lance was on his feet, pointing to the tapestries that told the story of the Du Bois clan over the centuries when Guinevere walked up to him. She put a hand on his shoulder, interrupting his definitely – enlightening lecture of the castle and Arthur's maternal ancestors. Lance turned around to face her, perplexed. He was about to ask her what was wrong, when Guinevere pulled him down for a kiss.
Lance initial surprise lasted three seconds before he started kissing her back. They drew apart moments later, a most satisfied smile on Guinevere's face. Lance looked as if he had been caught with his hands inside the biscuit tin; he enjoyed the biscuit, but not the act of getting the biscuit. It was the worst of analogies, but one Guinevere felt was apt for the moment.
"What was that for?" Lance asked, the tremble in his voice just slightly discernible.
"Confirmation," Guinevere replied. She linked her arm though his as they walked out of the main hall and towards the first room in the ground floor.
Lance asked what the kiss had confirmed, but Guinevere had seen an interesting drawing outside the ballroom and inquired about it. It was of four stick figures standing in front of a grey box and an orange sun in the sky. The drawing stood out in its infantile images compared to the rest of the masterpieces Guinevere had seen in the castle. Lance explained that it was Merlin's class project when he was eight; he sold the drawing to Arthur for thirty pence and a liquorice stick.
Guinevere had laughed and with Lance no longer curious about the kiss, they went around the castle, Guinevere enjoying the tour and the revelation brought on by the kiss. It was one epiphany after another; something she was glad she had, for it had finally resolved the status of her relationship with Lance. That almost made her want to skip. It was a relief, a burden off her shoulders that she never knew she bore. The kiss did not tell her this, but the emotions behind the kiss did.
When she first kissed him at the airport, there had been a little …spark, a bit of an excitement. It was as if she had been standing in the threshold of a newly – opened pastry shop; so many sweet possibilities, ignited by the fact that Lance too was equally interested in her. After that, there had not been many moments alone with Lance, let alone intimate ones; and as she stood in the main hall listening to him, looking at the man who had held her hands in the aeroplane, assuring her it was perfectly safe to fly and that more people are killed on a regular basis on the road than in the skies, she knew she could never find another best friend as she had in Lance. He was solid; a safety net; a friend she could she could call up on a bad day and rant and he would willingly listen and then come over with a huge tub of chocolate ice – cream to cheer her up.
And since she was a on a roll with bad analogies that morning, Guinevere decided that being friends with Lance was like having a gorgeous gay best friend who happens to be straight.
The bought a smile to her face, but she bit it down, trying to put on serious face as Lance showed her tapestries wove by the silk – weavers of Japan at the behest of another one of Arthur's great – great grandfather.
The second epiphany was when Lance had kissed her back. There was a split – second pause...he actually seemed hesitant to kiss her.
When she had kissed Lance, she had hoped that tiny little spark from the airport would turn into an all – consuming fire. It had not. Lance was not a bad kisser; she always felt he held himself back. The tiny spark she felt at the airport remained, but Guinevere knew it needed a lot of work to turn that spark into fire. Guinevere had always believed that attraction should never be a lot of work; attraction is nature…when the chemistry is right, it happens. She felt momentary sadness as she thought of this, but she did not share that chemistry with Lance. She could, but then, the both of them would have to work extra hard to make it happen.
Lance, being the great guy he is should not suffer knowing that Guinevere had been uncomfortable when they had kissed in the main hall. It is like breaking an unwritten violation; a trespass she could not quite figure out yet. It was not a nice tribute to pay to such a gorgeous guy.
Besides, why should they both look for something that is obviously not there? That would be a colossal, almost sinful waste of time and effort. Time that they could spend as friends.
And with that, she finally had a name for their 'whatever-ship'.
Friendship.
In all fairness, when she first met him by walking into his shot of the chapel he had come to photograph, one look at him and she knew she would have killed to have him as her boyfriend. That was attraction and her penchant for guys with guys with cameras and shy smiles. And that was three weeks ago, when it did not seem so complicated. They could have gone on, fuelled by the fact that they seem to like each other; but the relationship would have stagnated and then, she would have lost a friend. Having Lance as a friend seemed liked a better deal for her right now. She did not want a reluctant boyfriend, no more than she wanted to be uncomfortable whenever they were alone together.
With all epiphanies quickly processed and noted, Guinevere concentrated on the present. The tour of the castle turned out to be more enjoyable than the both of them had thought possible. They ended the tour at the dungeons, laughing and bantering in a way that she never thought would have been possible had she not instigated the kiss earlier. He gave her a sketch map of the way to kitchen. She kissed him, chaste and on his cheek and thanked him for the map. She was about to go up the stone stairs when Lance called out her name.
"Gwen?"
"Yes, Lance?" she said, turning to look at him.
"What did it confirm?" he asked.
Guinevere was about to open her mouth to answer him when they heard Merlin's voice at the top of the stairs, calling for Lance.
"Are you down there, mate?" Merlin shouted, his voice echoing down to them.
"Yes," Lance called back. "Gwen is just on her way up." Turning to Guinevere, he said, "Needless to say, you are going to have a great time while I am stuck here."
"We will try," Guinevere replied, as she made her way up the stairs. "See you later."
Lance waved her off before entering the dungeon. Guinevere walked up the stairs, having decided that for the next few hours, she just wanted to have a good time and not spend it analyzing her relationships. Things were going great and the sight of Arthur Pendragon walking towards her, golden and all Greek god-like under the sun, confirmed to her just how great the day would be.