Arthur was crouched behind the medicine cabinet in the ward, his senses on high alert. He had been waiting for Gaius to take him for his x – ray when the attack occurred and now Arthur had to save himself. All he had with him was his wits and the fact he was bigger than his adversaries were. He looked over the side of the cabinet and saw one of his attackers enter the ward, weapon in hand. Arthur bit his lips, wondering where the other three were, when he was suddenly ambushed from the back.
"Surrender, Arthur Big Dragon!" one of his captors yelled, climbing unto his back. Arthur stood up, carrying his captor in a piggy – back. Shrieks filled the air as he pulled his captor to his front, a task made difficult by the attacks to his knees and shins.
"Never!" Arthur cried. Then, the fatal shot was administered. His captor used his weapon and squirted water directly into his eyes. Arthur pretended to stumble and then, in a carefully choreographed manner, fell to the floor, taking down all his captors with him. There were delighted squeals as Arthur proceeded to tickle his captors. "Do you surrender?" he asked the three boys and the girl who had ambushed him.
"No!" came their united response.
"Then, I have no choice but to torture you," Arthur said with a maniacal laugh and proceeded to tickle the children. But in the end, the children won the battle, when they used their water guns and NERF cannons on him. Arthur conceded defeat with a dramatic fall once more to the floor. The children clambered on top of him, with every intentions of drenching him when Arthur saw Lance entering the ward.
"Lance!" Arthur called out, trying to get up from the floor.
"Can I have a minute of your time, Arthur?" Lance asked, crouching down on the floor next to Arthur.
"Have three. You can talk to me about the environment...ouch, Peter, watch your hands...the coalition government...England's chances at the World Cup...now that is a serious issue, mate. We should really sit down and discuss it," Arthur replied, sitting up, and removing a child who had attached himself to Arthur's leg. "Children, meet my friend, Lance. You may jump on him now."
The children did not need a second prompting. Moments later, Lance was wrestled down to the floor, with Arthur cheering the children on. The children would have battled Lance a little longer when one of Gaius's nurse entered the ward and gave a shriek of horror at the sight of the supposedly – invalid children attacking a grown man. At the sight of the nurse, the children were all of a sudden reminded of their various illnesses; viral fever, sprained wrist, stomach ache and migraine. The ailments were forgotten half an hour ago when Arthur came into the ward and asked if anyone there was brave on to take on the Pendragon. There was a boisterous battle and the result was four children who forgot their misery for a bit, a ward that looked as if a bomb had gone off in it and Arthur's hospital gown soaked at the front.
Arthur helped the children and Lance up. Turning to the nurse, he gave his most charming smile and admitted it was his fault. The nurse, a severe woman in her mid – thirties, who has seen it all, blushed and giggled, saying it was completely all right. Then, she ushered the children to their respective beds, as Arthur and Lance, with a promise of another battle to the children, left the ward and went into the waiting room where Arthur was supposed to be waiting for Gaius.
"I heard you fell into a river," Lance said, looking at Arthur, standing by the side of the table.
"I was saving Bernadette when I slipped," Arthur told him. "And if you must know, Bernadette is a puppy."
"That is an unacceptable name for a puppy," Lance said, looking very solemn.
"That's what I told Merlin," Arthur said, adjusting his hospital gown. "So, mate, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?"
"I like Morgana," Lance said, the tone of his voice quiet.
It took a moment for the three words uttered by Lance to fully register in Arthur's brains. He closed his eyes, feeling something that was surprisingly akin to relief. What Lance telling him was one of the things Arthur had always dreamt of hearing, for the sake of Morgana. And as he heard it, he could hear a choir of angels singing somewhere in the distance. He felt happy. For Morgana and Lance. Though he wondered why Lance looked as if he was in mourning for something. Realizing that Lance wants to make this a solemn conversation, Arthur followed suit.
"I know."
"Not the way you or Merlin like her."
"Of course."
"I really, really like Morgana."
"Then, why are you telling me, mate?" Arthur said, feigning indifference when all he wanted to do was hug friend for finally waking up. "Don't you know you'd get a much more positive outcome for your troubles from Morgana?"
Lance looked troubled. A light frown marred his features as he continued. "You're her brother…I need…"
"My permission? Good God, mate, it's Morgana we're talking about here…capable of taking of herself. If she knew you're here asking for permission from me to court her, she'll find a way to kill me." Arthur was not entirely lying when he said this. Though he did not doubt Morgana would kill Arthur if she ever found out Lance was asking his permission, he was a bit glad Lance had taken the effort to tell him about his feelings for Morgana first. Made Arthur feel very responsible for Morgana.
"I am your friend. Isn't it weird that…" Apparently, Lance wants to make this as painful as possible for himself.
Arthur took a deep breath and stood up. he came to stand in front of Lance. "Mate, I think it's fantastic. If I ever could choose who Morgana should be with, you'd top the list. And that is all I will say of the matter, because I don't want to spend the next ten minutes talking about how wonderful you are."
Lance smiled, looking relieved. "Thanks, mate. And how long have you known?"
"Since we were nineteen, eighteen... I don't keep record for these sort of things. I read Morgana's diary once."
"That's despicable," Lance said, looking shocked.
Arthur shrugged, grinning. "I lived in the same house as her; it's only natural I read diary. It maybe immoral but I think Morgana Pendragon du Lac has a certain charm to it, don't you think?"
Lance took a ponder it. He smiled as he said, "It does."
"See, no harm done," Arthur said, patting Lance's shoulder. "She also had a thing for one of the members of Take That, but I don't think you have to worry about it anymore."
Lance laughed, shaking his head. Arthur merely smiled, his mind invaded with a single thought.
Guinevere.
If Lance was open about his feelings for Morgana, where would that leave Guinevere? Suddenly, Arthur realized that there was actually no joy in Lance and Morgana getting together; not at the expense of Guinevere getting hurt. To bring her all the way to Tintagel and now this...
"What about Guinevere?" Arthur asked, not knowing why he felt frightened all of all sudden.
Lance actually smiled when he heard the question. "That is up to you, Arthur."
"What? Why?" Arthur was incredulous. Surely they are not expecting him to deliver the news to Guinevere. It would kill him to see her heartbroken...as much as it hurt him then to realize that Guinevere was probably hurting at this moment.
Lance put a hand on Arthur's arm. "Honestly, mate, don't you think I've picked up something about you in the last two decades I have known you?" he asked, an eyebrow raised.
Arthur was surprised when he heard this. Suddenly, thinking became too much for an arduous task. "How did you…"
"You couldn't take your eyes off her," Lance told him.
"I didn't mean to…" Arthur began but he did not know what else to say. Between dealing with Guinevere getting hurt and Lance knowing that he had been eyeing the girl who was supposed to be his girlfriend, Arthur has his plate full trying not to be an imbecile he was shaping up to be.
"Gwen is a great person," Lance said, looking at Arthur. "I think we both knew that it would not have worked between us. But I am beginning to think that my meeting with Gwen is like kismet for a lot of other things. She's like a catalyst. If she had not talked to me about Morgana, I think I would be forever stuck in relationship purgatory."
Well, that certainly released Lance from the docks, but what about him? What was Arthur going to do? And is it really possible to ask your best friend if he had broken up with his girl...girl...with Guinevere? Arthur decided that he needed to hear it, screw the consequences. He is only going to look like an idiot, but since Guinevere was involved, it really did not matter. "So, you and Guinevere..." Arthur began but thankfully Lance understood immediately what he was trying to say.
"Friends," Lance told him. "There's only one girl for me."
Friends. Arthur liked that word; when it is used to describe Guinevere and Lance. It really surprised Arthur that a single word could suddenly make everything clearer. Arthur knew what he had to. But first, he had to set Lance on the right path.
"Well, you are still there, mate. How is Morgana supposed to know how you feel when you have only told me that you really, really like her?"
Lance laughed, understanding what Arthur was trying to do. "I love her, you know," he said, his expression solemn once again.
"Tell her that."
"What are you going to do?"
What else would he do? "Go after Guinevere."
"That's good."
"I want to tell her that I really, really like her too," Arthur said, smiling.
"That's even better."
"And I have never felt that way about anyone else…"
At that moment, Merlin burst into the room. Out of breath, he looked at Arthur and Lance, unable to speak.
"Where did you come from?" Arthur asked, frowning. Merlin looked as if he had been engaged in something he rarely does; participating in manual labour.
"The cellar," Merlin managed to answer, a hand to his side and breathing hard.
Arthur and Lance groaned. "How many bottles did you finish?" Lance asked, as he moved towards Merlin, to catch him if he should collapse.
Merlin looked crestfallen when he heard Lance. "That's the sad part. I forgot to take down a bottle opener. Searched the whole cellar and only found a spoon. Had two...three...seven cans of cola instead," Merlin said and as if to prove a point, hiccupped loudly. "But enough of me..." Turning to Arthur, he continued with a mock serious tone. "I must say, Arthur, a confession like that certainly puts our friendship in a bind."
"What?" Arthur asked, incredulous.
Instead of answering him, Merlin turned to Lance, "No offence, Lance, but I have always thought Arthur would say those words to me. How he never felt that way about someone else..."
Arthur and Lance actually jumped a foot apart, looking disgusted. "None taken, mate," Lance said, shaking his head. "Though I must say it is rather disturbing that you have thought of things like this."
Though Lance was grinning because he knew it was a joke, Arthur, not much so. He was just a notch below livid. "God, Merlin, I should have just fed you to the lions when we were at that safari in Kenya."
Merlin crossed his arms across his chest. "Now you know how I feel every time the both you jump on me the moment I talk to any girls," he said, an eyebrow raised in a rather condescending manner. "I am perfectly fine with my sexuality. The both of you, on the other hand...you guys kiss me all the time…" he shrugged.
"What?" Arthur and Lance advanced with murder in their thoughts.
Self – preservation has never been known as Merlin's forte. He stood his ground and continued, "I think I have been kissed by the both of you much more than the women you have dated."
"Lance?"
"Arthur?"
The sound of Merlin head being smacked simultaneously could be heard down the hallway, in the ward.
"Stop kissing me!" Merlin yelled, as he rubbed his head.
I don't have time for this," Lance said, leaving the room. "I'm going to look for Morgana."
Merlin opened his mouth to say something, but he stopped, as he realized something. "That explains everything..." he said to himself.
"What?" Arthur asked. Even Lance was waiting for Merlin to explain, with one hand on the door knob.
"Guinevere has left the castle..."
The sound of Guinevere's name caused Arthur's heart to do funny things...it almost felt as if it stopped beating for the span of time used to say the word 'Guinevere'. "Maybe she went for a walk..."
"She drove away with the Rover, Arthur," Merlin said, looking suitably distressed. "And she packed her suitcase into the car."
Arthur stood up from the chair, the only action he could do for the moment. Lance came to stand next to Merlin and looked at Arthur.
"I have to go after her," Arthur said, looking at his friends. "I have to go after her."
"You have an x – ray scheduled," Merlin pointed out.
"I am fine," Arthur said, nudging past Merlin and Lance. He called out for Phillip, who immediately came into the room. "My clothes, Phillip." The butler handed the bag he was holding.
"You fell into a river," Lance said, looking concerned. "Perhaps, a little caution..."
Arthur looked at Lance, not understanding why caution should be included when it involved the matters of the heart. He felt fine, there was no need for an x - ray, unless it was administered by Guinevere in a tiny nurse's uniform...Great, now his mind was going down the gutters again. Perhaps he needs that x – ray after all... Arthur shook his head, dismissing the thought of him getting an x-ray, but letting the one with Guinevere as a nurse persist. He quickly dressed in the spare clothes brought by Phillip and turned to his friends, his mind made up.
"Well, it looks like Guinevere would just have to risk it with Arthur, I guess," Merlin said, looking at Lance. "Arthur's condition needs more than an x-ray diagnosis..."
"Shut up, Merlin," Arthur said, throwing his hospital gown at Merlin. "I need a car."
At that moment, Gaius entered the consulting room. The three friends froze when they saw the physician. Gaius saw that Arthur was fully dressed and Merlin clutching the hospital gown Arthur was supposed to be wearing.
"Going somewhere?" the older man asked, blocking the way to the door.
"I have to confess to Morgana that I love her," Lance spoke first. His speech was made more effective by the earnest expression on his face.
"Ah." Gaius nodded. "Carry on, then." He moved aside and Lance dashed out of the room. Gaius watched Lance go and turned to Arthur and Merlin.
"Gaius, I just need half an hour..." Arthur began, but Gaius held up his hand.
"I would be a bad physician if I allowed you to go without a proper check up," Gaius said and Arthur mentally – prepared himself to fight off the nurses and Gaius who would probably be restraining him any moment now. If push comes to shove, he could yell for back up from the children in the ward. And Merlin could feign some sort of illness to distract them from him.
"On the other hand, I would be doing a great injustice to young hearts if I kept you in here any longer..."
Gaius did not get to finish what he wanted to say, for Arthur gave a triumphant shout and shot out of the room, after giving Gaius a quick hug. He caught the keys to the jeep, which Phillip had driven to the surgery, as he ran, marvelling at his hand-eye coordination, proving that he did not an x – ray after all. He jumped down the three steps that led out to the driveway and was about to jump into the jeep, when he saw something.
"No...no...no..." he groaned as he kicked the front tyres, which lay flat and depressed. "No!" Arthur looked up to the sky, his chest constricting.
Late. It was too late...
Merlin came to stand next to Arthur , looking as forlorn as Arthur felt. He was wheeling Eliza's bicycle; the one Merlin had offered to paint and made it into a plaid monstrosity, as a nod to Eliza's Highland origins. The people in the Highlands would scream murder if they ever saw the bicycle. Eliza prefers walking nowadays, as opposed to riding her bicycle.
"How long had she been gone?" Arthur asked Merlin.
"Twenty minutes," Merlin told him, his voice quiet.
Arthur acknowledged this with a nod. Guinevere should be out of Tintagel by now and headed towards London...if that is where was going. The constriction in his chest became tighter as he thought of the distance Guinevere had put between them.
She was gone. He was never going to catch up with her...
It seemed hopeless...until Arthur heard the whinny of the horses Gaius kept in the paddocks of his farmland. Arthur looked at Merlin, who grinned his approval.
Moments later, Arthur rode out of Gaius's stable, on a black mare, watched on by Merlin and an astonished Gaius, who had the keys to his VW in his hand, ready to offer it to Arthur.
It was supposed to be a dramatic departure; Guinevere forsaking a great weekend and an even better company of people, just so that she would not have the misfortune of being an unwanted third wheel in the presence of Lance and Morgana. She left the castle unnoticed, not even telling the servants. None of her hosts were there, so she reckoned Lance would just have to explain things to them when they got back to the castle. She felt as if she was being immature, she could have at least swung by Gaius's surgery and say goodbye to Arthur, but she could not. Meeting any one of them meant unwarranted sympathy. She could live with their irritation for being so uncouth by leaving without saying goodbye or thanks, but she could not let their feelings be divided over the joy of Lance and Morgana getting together and sympathy for someone they hardly knew.
Besides, she was not ready to face Arthur again, knowing that another look would only cause her to fall for him even harder. Leaving this way seemed like a clean break, but even the cleanest of wounds are known to hurt and bleed. As she drove away from the castle, she knew that time would heal and tried to convince herself that she hardly knew them and by the time she reached London, she would not be missing them anymore. A resolution that lasted all of three minutes because when she looked in the glove compartment for her GPS, she saw a pair of Raybans tucked into the corner of the compartment and was reminded once again of cerulean eyes and golden hair. She swallowed a lump and slammed shut the glove compartment, not bothering to take out her GPS, which turned out to be an unwise decision, because she ended up lost in the village for a good fifteen minutes before she finally found the road that led out to the highway.
The fair was winding down for lunch, though there were still people about. She remembered then that she had not gotten any souvenirs and tried not to entertain the thought that assured her Arthur's Raybans could be considered a souvenir. It made a particularly depressing thought; she had a great time with him and spent the night at his castle and all she had to show for that was a measly pair of eyewear. Besides, the fact remains...she was too much of a stranger to them...as they were to her...for her to qualify for any emotions as she parted from them.
Ten minutes of driving and Guinevere finally found the lane that led to the road to the highway. She almost crashed into the ditch however, when a horse came into view. She slammed her breaks and managed to stop inches from the rearing horse...at least she hoped it was horse, not an overly-fit cow with psychotic tendencies...and thought that a stray horse out on the road was not really surprising for a village like this.
What was surprising was a figure of a man dismounting the horse and coming towards her car. Guinevere swallowed, nervous, not knowing what to expect. She has heard the stories of girls stuck in remote areas, accosted by strangers...but the man coming towards her car was no stranger. Ever more golden under the afternoon sun, Guinevere's breath caught when she realized it was Arthur. Pleasantly surprised was too mild of a word to describe the soaring sensation she felt knowing that Arthur had come for her, on horseback. It did not matter if he had come to say goodbye, the most important thing was he came for her.
Unless, of course, he was there to pick his sunglasses, not wanting to have anything to do with her once she leaves the borders of Tintagel...that was a hard crash into reality. There was a limit to wishful thinking and horses were probably the norm here in Tintagel. London-born and bred, Guinevere knew how to take matters with a pinch of salt.
"Arthur? What are you doing here?" Guinevere asked, as she opened the car door and got down. She was parked in the middle of the lane, but since she was with the Marquis, she reckoned it would not be too much of a problem. Besides, Tintagel's traffic of a handful of vans and cars would not be rushing down this lane anytime soon...or so she hoped.
"I came to tell you that Lance and Morgana should be together by now," he said, coming to stand in front of her. He kept a respectful distance to her personal space, but with a man like Arthur, it was hard not to feel overwhelmed, even if he was a hundred paces away.
"That's good. They belong together," Guinevere said, nodding her approval.
Arthur smiled. "I know," he said. "Took them eleven years to sort things out." He shrugged and then looked at Guinevere. "But, I am not like that," he said, taking a step to close in on her personal space. "Guinevere, there is something I have to do."
Say goodbye? Ask for your sunglasses?
"What is it?" Guinevere asked, her eyes locking unto his. She was aware that she had stopped breathing, but that hardly mattered to her. He touched the side of her face, looked at her for what seemed like an eternity and finally bent down and kissed her. Full on the lips, holding nothing back. Guinevere, for the first time in her life, felt the experience of her limbs turning to jelly.
Arthur drew back, when breathing became necessary, his eyes closed as if still savouring something from the kiss. He opened his eyes and looked at her. "I've been wanting to do that since I saw you."
Guinevere could certainly relate to that; she too had wanted to kiss him, perhaps maybe do a little more than kiss, when she saw him in his towel at the flat. However, for now, all she could articulate was a brief, "Oh."
"And I would like you to be my guest…my date for the ball tomorrow evening. That is why I am here. I want to take you back to Tintagel, as my guest this time," Arthur explained. Guinevere found it hard to concentrate when she looked at his lips...she could only see him kissing her.
"I…." Guinevere began, not knowing how to put the fact that she was a guest of his best friend until half an hour ago in a more delicate manner.
"I know you had a …a…."
"Thing..." Guinevere offered the best she could do, considering the distraction she was faced with.
"A thing with Lance," Arthur continued without missing a beat. Then, taking her hand into his, he continued, "But I believe sometimes Fate plays us that way. If you had not been with Lance…"
"I don't think I ever was with Lance," Guinevere was quick to correct him. Sure, she had kissed Lance on two occasions; but if they wanted to get technical about it, both could not be considered a kiss; one was gratitude and the other was a test. Of course, Arthur was probably not interested in dissecting all this.
"But you meeting him had culminated into Morgana and Lance getting together," Arthur said, earnestly. "And now, here we are."
"Yes. Here we are," Guinevere said, looking at Arthur. Last week, she saw him in a towel at his flat...and today, she was standing in the middle of a lane in a village, holding hands with him.
"So, would you be my guest for the remainder of the weekend. It would mean so much…" Arthur's tone was earnest enough, but he kept the desperation to a minimum with a casual shrug.
Guinevere smiled. "It will be my honour to be your guest, Archibald," she said, laughter in her voice.
Arthur's expression of horror was a sight to behold. "What? Oh God, you saw the portrait?"
"Yes." She was biting her lips, trying not to burst out laughing, enjoying herself immensely.
"And all my names?"
"Those are very impressive names, Percy," Guinevere said, nodding.
Arthur groaned, rolling his eyes. "Can't you be impressed with something else?" he asked, distressed. "My castle? My Jag? My blue eyes?"
"Those are very impressive, but nothing beats Archibald, Percy," Guinevere told him solemnly.
"I do a rather fantastic David Bowie impersonation," Arthur said.
"I'm sure you could, Archibald," Guinevere said. "I think..."
Arthur was quick to interrupt her. "I make a great soufflé…"
Guinevere acknowledged this with a nod. "Of course. I… " she began, but once again Arthur interrupted her.
"And I have a yacht moored at the Thames."
"You do?" It was not as impressive as his six-hundred year old castle, but it was still something.
"No. But if you can be impressed by that, I can make arrangements for it," Arthur said, looking very thoughtful.
Guinevere laughs, enjoying Arthur's distress, but deciding that she had teased the Marquis enough. "Well, I was going to say you are a rather impressive kisser, but by all means, if you prefer talking…"
Arthur's look of surprise was quickly replaced with that of delight. He did not need a second invitation, as he pulled Guinevere towards him and this time, took his time kissing her. But the kiss, as amazing as it was, came to a grinding halt when Guinevere's mobile phone rang.
"I have to get that," Guinevere said, drawing away rather reluctantly. She reached for her back pocket and extracted her mobile phone, only to have it taken away by Arthur.
"No, you don't," he said, holding the mobile phone above her. The mobile continued to ring, playing Guinevere's utilitarian ringing tone since she could not choose a ringtone in a selection of a few million.
"It might be an emergency," Guinevere said, standing on her toes, trying to grab the phone.
"What could be more urgent than kissing?" Arthur asked. Guinevere had to admit he had a point. The mobile kept ringing and Arthur checked the number to inform Guinevere who was calling her. He bristled visibly when he saw the number. "It's from the castle," he told her. "Bin it."
Guinevere was horrified. "Arthur!"
Arthur relented, sulking. He pressed the button to talk. Before he could say 'hello', Merlin's excited voice was heard on the other side of the line.
"Guinevere! Arthur's looking for you. He's..."
"Bye, Merlin," Arthur said, keeping the conversation short, hoping Merlin would understand.
"What? Arthur? What..." Guinevere reached for her mobile again, and this time managed to successfully extract it from Arthur's hand, but Arthur had already terminated Merlin's call.
"Where were we?" Arthur said, closing in on Guinevere, with a very alluring glint in his eyes. Guinevere smiled, knowing what was going to happen. She mirrored Arthur's movements, her eyes on the delicacy that is his lips...
Her mobile ran again; shrill, annoying and very persuasive. Arthur moved away from her, gritting his teeth. Guinevere took hold of his hand, not letting him go any further, as she answered the call.
"It must be something important," she told Arthur, and then into the mouthpiece, said, "Hello."
"Guinevere, it's Merlin." Merlin's voice was a tinny shriek, and he spoke too quickly, as if afraid she would hang up.
"Yes, Merlin," Guinevere said for Arthur's benefit, who looked as if he could murder her mobile phone. "I was supposed to call you earlier but I lost my way in the cellar..."
"That's great," she said, finding it hard to concentrate on Merlin since Arthur had found a way to keep himself occupied; he was tracing the lines on her palm, with his lips.
"You're coming back to Tintagel, aren't you?"
"Yes. Your Marquis is very persuasive."
"I do not need details," Merlin said. "But, I do need to say this. Thank you, Guinevere."
"Why?" Guinevere asked, puzzled.
"For asking Lance to follow his heart. And for making Arthur follow his."
Guinevere smiled. Merlin sounded as if she had done something monumental when all that she did was to point out a few overlooked facts. As for Arthur...she cannot take credit for him coming after her...that is Fate. "I..." she began to explain, but Merlin interrupted her.
"You are something special, Guinevere," he said. "That is why Arthur's there. Is he glaring at you?"
"Yes, but in the general direction of the mobile phone."
Merlin chuckled. "That's good. I'm done now."
"Thank you, Merlin," Guinevere said, watching Arthur as he kissed her finger one at a time, all the while looking at her. The look was a challenge for Guinevere to do something about his ministrations and nonchalance, as if people engaged in mild forms of foreplay in the middle of a village lane every other day. "One more thing, Merlin. Unless it's a national emergency, please..."
Merlin did not let her to finish the sentence. "I understand," he said, laughter in his voice. "You must be most impressed. See you in a bit, Guinevere."
Guinevere laughs and presses the button to end the call. Arthur drew her closer to him by pulling her hand and placing it on his shoulder. He took the mobile phone from her hand and politely asked, "May I?"
Guinevere wondered why he was seeking permission when he flung the mobile phone into the bushes by the side of the lane.
It was the first of the many mobile phones Arthur had broken since he kissed her that day.
Apparently, it was the first time since becoming the Marquis that Arthur Pendragon had brought companion to the Harvest Ball. The ball was the culmination of Tintagel's Harvest Festival; open to everyone on the village, so most of Tintagel got a look at his companion for the evening and agreed that she was one charming young lady. The villagers also agreed that it was about time Morgana and Lance got together and no one was really surprised when they left the festivities quite early on. Apparently, there were a lot of things Lance and Morgana had to catch up with.
Merlin danced with almost every one of the committee members of Tintagel Ladies' Club before retiring to a corner of the ballroom where he was seen talking to the dark – haired girl produce girl for the rest of the evening. The girl wore tennis shoes with her summer frock, quite out of place in a room full of people in elegant evening gowns and tuxedos. But she suited Merlin perfectly fine; he was wearing a powder blue suit and a white shirt with frills on its front. This disaster occurred because Arthur, Lance and Morgana were too distracted to check his clothes beforehand. But since the suit was not neon, everyone just let him be.
It was nearing midnight and the festivities were winding down for the evening. Guinevere was seated at a table in the corner of the vast ballroom, her feet bare and up on a chair in front of her. Her silver strappy stilettos were on the floor next to her, and Guinevere wished such a torture device was never invented. Her feet were killing her and it was the damn shoes' fault. And Arthur's, but she too was responsible for her predicament. She should have known better when emerging from her room in the black, full-skirted evening gown with the plunging back. Arthur never let her out of his sight and she cheerfully danced with him the whole evening, happy with his attention. And now, her feet was paying the price for it. She wished she could just unscrew her feet and get a new one. She drained off her glass of champagne and looked around the room for a waiter. The catering staffs were nowhere to be seen, their job done for the evening. But she did manage to catch a glimpse of golden hair and suddenly she no longer felt any pain.
Arthur was standing at the main door leading into the ballroom, thanking the guests and the villagers who had attended the ball. It was customary for the Marquis to do this and it was the only time this evening he has been more than arm's length away from her. She sighed when she saw him; handsome, confident and equally attentive to everyone who came to thank him. He was younger than most of the guests, but it was obvious he was respected and admired. He had an easy way with people, always looking to put them at ease. But the fact remained; Arthur Pendragon is and would always be the Marquis of Tintagel.
This realization startled Guinevere, but not as much as when Arthur suddenly turned and looked at her. Even from across the room, she could see his blue eyes twinkling. He had promised an extended celebration, just the two of them, and was now approaching her with every intentions of keeping his word. Guinevere smiled when she saw him, though she found herself unable to match Arthur's excitement. It was because of the thoughts that kept repeating in her mind...
What is to happen tomorrow?
What is to happen to her beyond this weekend?
To be honest, Guinevere knew that Arthur was not in the same league as she was. Lance and Merlin perhaps, but Arthur, with his fortunes and position in society and ancestral titles was a world apart from her. She knew that such feudal thoughts belong in the Middle Ages, but she could not shake of the feeling that she will just be another notch on the Marquis' bedpost tomorrow. Before she could think any further on the matter, Arthur was at the table. Guinevere moved her feet to the floor, letting him have the chair. He drew the chair beside her and sat down, sighing, putting one arm around her shoulder.
"What is it?" Arthur asked, as he pulled her close and kissed the top of her head.
How did he...
"Nothing," Guinevere replied, looking at him.
Arthur looked at her, an eyebrow raised quizzically. "Doesn't seem like nothing," he observed, his cerulean eyes made more mesmerizing by his golden lashes.
This man...he is too perfect
But to Arthur, she spoke, "Just thinking how wonderful this evening is. This...everything...is perfect."
"It is perfect," Arthur remarked, his eyes locked unto hers. He kissed her gently on the lips, as his hands dropped lower to her bare back.
Guinevere slowly drew away from him, taking his other hand into hers. She looked at him, registering his surprise. "I am not looking to be another entry in your black book, Arthur," she said, her voice quiet.
Arthur took a deep breath. When he looked at her, he had a small smile on his lips. "I don't have a black book, Guinevere."
Guinevere knew that Arthur too knew what she was talking about. She did want to seem too clingy or too distant...she did not want to seem like anything save for the fact that she really liked him.
Arthur must have realized what she was feeling. "We'll take it slow..." he began in a soothing voice.
The words stumbled out of her mouth before she could even think about it. "Not too slow." Her words were whip-fast and as soon as she said it out aloud, she could feel her resolve of not wanting to seem too desperate crumbling.
If Guinevere had been embarrassed, Arthur was amused. He grinned, as he pulled her towards him. "Everyday is a revelation with you, Guinevere."
"I am just being myself, Arthur," she said, wincing.
Just me, myself and my big fat mouth.
"Stay that way."
"I suppose I could. Where as you..." Guinevere dropped her gaze, looking away.
"What?" Arthur asked, curious.
Guinevere knew she had to get this over with sooner or later. She took a deep breath and turned to Arthur. "Well, the other day at the Hall, you told me you were a..."
"Libra, loved outdoor sports and English food?"
"Yes. Apparently there is more to you." Guinevere tried to smile, but it came out rather forced.
"No, that's about it," Arthur assured her. "Oh, and I am trying to grow a vegetable garden, but it's not going the way I want it to."
Guinevere reached out and touched his face, pushing away the errant locks that fell over his eyes. "You have your own village and castle, Arthur. You are the heir to a fortune of billions and you are twenty – second in line for the Throne. I'd say your introduction barely scratched the surface."
Arthur got hold of her hand on his face and took it into his own. Guiding her hands towards his heart, he looked at her, a silent implore in his eyes, asking her to understand what he was about to say. "Guinevere, the village, the castle, the fortune...these belong to others. I am merely a caretaker and I have to pass it on when my time is up. I would not miss it if I did not have any of it tomorrow. Those three things I told you when I first met you are truly me. My biggest fortunes are three good friends who would kill and die for me." He placed her hand above his heart, where she could feel the warmth of his skin and the beat of his heart. He continued, "And now, you. I have nothing else...except a sorry excuse for a vegetable garden."
Guinevere bit down her laughter, for Arthur looked very serious when he mentioned his vegetable garden.
"What are you thinking?" Arthur asked, interrupting her thoughts.
"I think I can help you to tend your garden, Arthur," Guinevere said, struggling to keep her expression neutral.
"Is that a double-entendre for something?" Arthur asked, looking very solemn, except for the mischievous twinkle in his eyes.
"I am a very serious gardener, Arthur," Guinevere told him, equally solemn.
"Guinevere!" Arthur cried. "A man can only take that much..." He did not finish what he wanted to say, as he pulled her towards him and kissed her; a sort of a prologue to his promised celebrations. They drew apart when one of the catering staff came over to their table to clean up the used glasses.
"I don't want to rush into this, Arthur," Guinevere said, looking at Arthur.
"I have waited all my life for someone like you. If you think we should take it slow, then we shall take it slow," Arthur said, searching her eyes. Then, in a lighter tone, he added, "But not too slow."
"Of course," Guinevere replied.
He kissed her again, this time on her forehead. "Guinevere," he said.
"Yes, Arthur?"
"Just saying your name aloud." He shrugged, shaking his head. "You are Guinevere. Gwen hardly suits you."
"Oh," Guinevere said. "Well, in that case...Archibald..."
"Guine-vere..." Arthur pretended to chide her.
"Yes, Percy?"
Arthur groaned. He looked at Guinevere, frowning, "Don't you have any embarrassing middle name?"
"No, Percy. I don't."
"You...are very dangerous..."
"And you have impressive middle names..."
It was fascinating to watch the realization dawn on Arthur. He finally figured out Guinevere's ruse with his middle names. He drew her into his arms again and kissed Guinevere for her troubles. When she was suitably impressed, he kissed her again.
Arthur Archibald Percy Tristan Pendragon was a most impressive kisser Guinevere had ever had the pleasure of knowing and being kissed. However, since they decided to take things slow, Arthur and Guinevere spent the rest of the evening in the castle study; kissing, talking, sharing several bottles of excellent wine, but mostly, talking. Guinevere fell asleep just at the crack down, nestled in Arthur's embrace, content and feeling that this was where she belonged all this while.