SITTING ACROSS FROM Arthur in the quaint yet surprisingly high-end cafe, Gwen spooned and slurped her thick vanilla milkshake (topped with rainbow sprinkles) as causally as she could manage, trying not to look too uncomfortable.
She wasn't uncomfortable because of Arthur. In fact, she was really liking him (and he seemed to be enjoying her company as well). It was more that this wasn't the sort of thing that usually happened to her. Rich, handsome men did not typically give up their intended purchases for her, or hold open doors, or take her out for a smoked sandwich and crisps and then decide they were having so much fun they wanted to stick around for dessert as well.
At least they were splitting the bill. One less thing she had to feel she owed him for.
The good part, in all this, was that he was actually very funny and natural, all else aside. Gwen liked that.
"Do you mind if I ask who the gloves are for?" Arthur wanted to know.
"Can't they just be for me?" said Gwen.
"Sure." Arthur shrugged. "I just thought maybe they were a gift for someone...special... It being that time of year."
"Oh, they are," Gwen assured him.
Arthur looked a little dejected, thinking she already had a boyfriend. "Oh."
"My father." She chuckled lightly.
"Oh!" Arthur said again, more enthusiastically.
"Yeah..."
"So there's no one...?"
Gwen developed a sudden deep interest in her now mostly-finished milkshake. "As of the moment, no."
"Bad break up?" Arthur asked, then shook his head, leaning back. "Forgive me, you don't have to answer that. Too personal."
"No, no, it's all right. It's just... Well there has been somebody. Once. We were never actually together. We might have been, given time, but he was very honest and straight forward, and even though there was a job offer for him near where I lived, he felt it was given under false pretenses, and he left. I haven't heard from him since. I guess he's still out there, finding his way." She sighed heavily, remembering. "I do hope Lancelot finds what he's looking for, someday."
"I'm sorry," said Arthur, simply because he didn't know what else to say.
Gwen smiled. "It's all right. Clearly it just wasn't meant to be."
"You believe that?" Arthur asked.
"Believe what?"
"That things are meant to be? Fated?"
"Sure, don't you?"
"Honestly, Guinevere, I have no idea."
A moment of awkward silence followed. Gwen tried to fill it. "You know, it's funny, I'm really having a great time talking to you."
"Why is that funny?" Arthur's brow crinkled.
Gwen blushed. "It's just that I normally don't go for men like you."
"Men like me?"
"You're, you know, one of those rough, tough, save the world kind of men..."
"You make it sound like a bad thing."
"Oh, no, no, no." Gwen held up her hands. "Not at all. I usually just like more ordinary men."
"I see."
"Like Merlin," she blurted. "Your friend from the store."
"Merlin?" Why on earth would Gwen want Merlin over him? Was she blind?
"No, I didn't mean Merlin, obviously," Gwen explained hurriedly. "Not Merlin. But just, you know, I usually like much more ordinary men... Like Merlin."
"Well now I have to find something else for Elena."
"Elena...? Oh, they were for your girlfriend." She felt terrible. "I can't keep them now. Here, you take them." She reached down next to her chair where the gloves were. "As a Christmas gift. Please. You can't say no."
"I certainly can!" snorted Arthur, laughing a little. "Keep the gloves. Elena is not my girlfriend. She's a friend, sort of, who's a girl; who my father refuses to be disillusioned about my falling madly in love with someday. And now I have to buy her a gift to keep him from having an aneurysm."
Gwen tried not to, but she couldn't help smiling. Even though he clearly wasn't one hundred percent available, what with his father setting him up and hoping for the best, she couldn't help but be happy Arthur didn't have a steady girlfriend. Clearly, things weren't going to happen right now, but who knew in the future? They could meet again, perhaps, if they were meant to. And then things might be different. She might be a little more over Lancelot, and he might not have Elena and his father to worry about then.
AFTER THE CHECK was taken care of, split fifty-fifty (except for the tip, which Arthur said he was happy to take care of), they got up to leave and walked outside together.
Watching Gwen scan the area for an available taxi, all Arthur could think was, This is it? I meet this really pretty, really smart, amazing girl -who talks to me like I'm a real person, not just my father's son- have one meal with her, and never see her again? He didn't even know her last name! If she walked away now, he wouldn't know how to find her. Was he about to spend the rest of his life pretending he liked girls like Elena, who only went out with him because of an obligation they both had?
"Guinevere," Arthur tried, "can I at least have your phone number or...?"
"What for?" Gwen blinked at him, as if she really were puzzled as to why he'd want it.
"So I can find you again."
"Arthur, if we're meant to meet again, I'm sure we will."
"Well, just to be on the safe side..." He pressed, not taking no for an answer.
"Oh, all right." Gwen reached into her purse and pulled out a piece of a paper and a pen. Before she could even write anything on it, a gust of snowy wind blew the paper out of her hand.
Crestfallen, Arthur watched it disappear into the night air. "That was a coincidence! I'll find you more paper."
Gwen shook her head. "No, Arthur, fate's telling us to back off. It must be a sign."
"You can't be serious," cried Arthur. "We had a great time, and you really don't want to see me again?"
"Of course I do," said Gwen. "It was so much fun talking to you. I just think maybe now isn't the right time."
"You know, fate has a lot to do." Arthur grinned impishly and lifted a finger in a pointed 'ah-ha!' manner. "What we should do is give it a hand."
Gwen nodded. "You're right."
"I am?" He cleared his throat. "I mean, I am. Naturally."
Swallowing back a giggle, Gwen asked to borrow five pounds.
She hadn't wanted him paying for dinner, but was fine with asking for a random five pound note? Strange. But Arthur gave it to her regardless.
"Here." She handed him the pen and stood with her back to him so he had something to write on. "Put down your name and phone number."
"On a five pound note?" Arthur was majorly confused.
"Yes, trust me."
Using her back as a makeshift table, he wrote down his contact information and then, as she turned around, handed it to her.
"Be right back," Gwen told him, bounding off to a nearby magazine stand, where she proceeded to buy a magazine with the five pound note Arthur had just written on.
"Why did you do that?" he asked pathetically, fast-walking over to her.
"When that five pound note makes its way back into my hands," Gwen explained, "I'll be able to call you. And when you hear my voice on the other end, you'll know it wasn't just some accident. That it was meant to happen. And so will I!"
This was getting frustrating absurdly quickly. "But that's not fair! What about you?"
"What about me?" Gwen asked innocently, her lovely brown eyes showing no sign whatever of understanding why he was so upset.
"If we send something with my personal information into the world-" (and Arthur didn't even want to think about some of the crazy young girls and desperate middle-aged women who might call him if that five pound note fell into the wrong hands...) "-shouldn't there be something out there with your name on it?"
"Right... Come with me." Gwen took his hand and led him over to a bargain table set out in front of a bookstore across the street. "See this book?" She picked up a large clunker with a picture of a black-haired girl riding a horse and carrying a sword on the cover.
"The Mists of Avalon," Arthur read the title. "Yes, so?"
"I'm going to buy this book," she told him, "write my name and number in it... Then, tomorrow morning, I'm going to donate it to a used bookstore."
"Great..." said Arthur; his tone implied the exact opposite. "Which one?"
"I can't tell you!"
"Why not?" he huffed.
"Don't you see? It's perfect." Gwen held up the book, so he could get a better look at the edition. "Because, then, every time you pass an old book store, you can stop in and see if it's there."
"But what if you're wrong?" Arthur knew his tone bordered on whining, but he couldn't help it. "What if we really are supposed to be together now and we're...I don't know...angering the gods?"
"Angering the gods?" Gwen shot him an incredulous expression. "Really?"
"You're right, that's stupid," Arthur conceded. "Forget I said that." Then, "But see? You're already having a great influence on me! You're making me confess to being stupid. A few hours ago, I would never have admitted that."
"Wow..." Gwen rolled her eyes. "You are bold, I have to give you that."
"Come on," Arthur begged. "Give me a chance. A real chance. Not just some book and five pound note, but a way that..."
He looked so pitiful; Gwen had never seen anyone look at her like that before. "All right, let's try something else."
Arthur let out a sigh of relief. "Yes, something else would be good."
"Let's go."
"Where?"
"You'll see soon enough." Gwen had his hand again, leading the way.
Arthur wanted to entwine his fingers with hers, but before he mustered up the courage, they'd already stopped and she had let go.
They were standing in front of a tall, marble hotel with a revolving glass door.
"Are we getting a room?" Arthur asked. It was a little sudden, but if that's what she wanted...
"No." Gwen stepped into the revolving door.
Arthur followed just behind.
Gwen marched right over to the elevators. "This is what we're going to do." She pushed the UP button. It immediately lit up yellow and green. "I'm going in this elevator. You can go in the one right across from it. Then, we're both going to pick a floor at random. If we both choose the same one, we're meant to be together now."
Arthur frowned. "You're trying to get rid of me, aren't you?"
In spite of the fact that girls generally found him wealthy and attractive enough so that he had never been properly stood up, a few of them had tried to ditch him during their date. He'd seen some pretty creative stunts. Girls climbing out of bathroom windows...girls whose grandparents on both sides had chosen to drop dead before the salad arrived...girls who faked fainting spells...even one girl who had tried to stab him with a butter-knife and make a run for it in the chaos that ensued...
But, this -elevator stye dumping- was definitely a new one.
"Here." Gwen took the cashmere gloves, removed the tag so they were no longer joined together, and handed one to Arthur. "You can give it back next time you see me."
"Your father's going to have a hard time of it, going around with one glove all winter," Arthur warned her.
"Which is why I wish you luck." Gwen kissed him on the cheek. "Hope to see you in a couple minutes, Arthur." With that, she slipped into the elevator and selected her floor.
The ninth floor. Here was hoping Arthur picked the same.
INSIDE THE ELEVATOR, Arthur took a deep breath. He wanted so badly to pick the same floor as Gwen, to make her see that they deserved a chance to find out if they were compatible and where this obvious attraction between them could go. Who cared about fate? Forget fate.
Exhaling, he chose his floor. The number nine lit up. Here was hoping his Guinevere was waiting for him on the ninth floor of this hotel.
Unfortunately, no sooner had he pushed the button than a woman's voice called out, "Wait, please, hold it!"
A dark-haired girl in high heels was rushing toward the elevators, pulling someone shorter (or at least in flats) but equally dark-headed, along behind her.
Arthur later regretted it, but he did the gentlemanly thing and helped the maiden in distress; he put his hand in the door to keep it open. He figured it didn't matter. As soon as he found out whether or not he and Gwen picked the same floor, the girl and her dwarf-sized friend could ride the elevator all night long for all he cared. No skin off his nose to let them in now, so long as they were willing to let him off on his chosen floor first.
"Thank you," panted the girl, stepping in.
"No pro-" Arthur stopped mid-word. "God have mercy! Morgana?"
She looked up into his face. "Oh, it's you." Her tone wasn't very enthusiastic. She'd been hoping it was some gallant, handsome stranger. But, nope, just Arthur.
"Don't sound so thrilled," He commented.
Morgana ignored him, bending over to straighten out the collar on the shirt of the little person -or, rather, child- she had with her.
Morgana was, as it happened, Arthur's half-sister by his father's former girlfriend Vivienne (the last woman Uther had been with before marrying Arthur's late mother, Ygraine). Unfortunately, Vivienne had already been married to somebody else (Mr. Gorlois, about whom all Arthur knew was that he had left some very nasty messages with Uther's personal assistant after the affair came to light), so Morgana had a half-sibling on that side, too. A older sister: Morgause. And that sister and her annoying boyfriend, Cenred, were the parents of the little boy, young Mordred, who accompanied Morgana now. They adored each other, Morgana and Mordred, and she was always taking out for the day (ice cream, the zoo, the park, meals at hotels, anything to spend time with him, really, and Morgause didn't seem to mind, never having been a very maternal sort of woman to begin with).
"Hello, Mordred," Arthur said.
The boy just stared at him mutely. He didn't like to talk much.
"So, Morgana, going up, right?"
"Oh, Mordred likes to ride either way," Morgana assured him. "Don't you, Mordred?"
No reply.
"Mordred?"
Mordred was currently busy, while the adults had been temporarily distracted, pressing all the floor buttons on the elevator.
"No!" cried Arthur, rushing forward to pull Mordred away. "Don't push those!"
Morgana hurried over, the sound of her heels muffled by the elevator's carpet, and put her arm around Mordred defensively. "Arthur, don't yell at him! How can the poor child have done anything so wrong? He's just a boy."
The truth was, Arthur liked Mordred a great deal, and felt sorry for him. It couldn't have been easy having a mother like Morgause, or even a grandmother as trampy as Vivienne, for that matter; but sometimes he felt like that blasted child, and his quiet shenanigans, was going to be the death of him.
ON THE NINTH floor, Gwen waited patiently. She glanced in the hallway mirror, then back at the elevators excitedly, hoping against hope. But there was no Arthur in sight. She was beginning to fear he wasn't coming.
She sort of wished she'd just given him her phone number after all, like he'd wanted.
Now she might never see him again.
MEANWHILE, ARTHUR WAS darting out into several different floors, accompanied now not only by Morgana and Mordred, but also by a small entourage they'd picked up along the way. Three women who looked like they were stoned, muttering about drowning faces in water, dancing goblins on hot coals, and people spitting out toads, a little curly-haired girl in a pink sweater about Mordred's age (Morgana said she was Kara, one of his friends from school), and a brown-haired chap wearing a red cape named Owain. All of them were now earnestly trying to help Arthur find Gwen in time.
"Is she here?" Kara asked, peeking out along with Mordred as Arthur raced into the lobby on that floor.
Arthur came running back, shaking his head no.
Everyone rushed back into the elevator. Owain's cape got stuck in the door and Morgana had to push the emergency button to get him free again. Arthur would have helped him, but he was smashed between two of the three stoned girls, unable to reach the elevator doors.
Ding!
Morgana jumped out this time, looking around for Gwen. "There's no one here, everybody back!"
By the time they finally made it to the ninth floor, Gwen was already gone, and all Arthur had left to remember her by was a single cashmere glove and the promise of a book with her name and number written in it, in an unknown bookstore somewhere.
"I'M REALLY SORRY, Arthur," Morgana said for the thousandth time, as they left the hotel.
Arthur waved it off. It wasn't all right, but there was nothing to be done about it now.
"Mordred didn't mean any harm," she added. "Did you, Mordred?"
Mordred shook his head no. Kara squeezed her friend's hand.
Arthur helped Morgana, Kara, and Mordred get a taxi, but once Owain was piled in, too, there was no room left for him to join them.
"I'll get the next one," he said, shutting the taxi door behind them. "Good luck, Mordred."
Once alone, Arthur let out his frustration by kicking a pile of snow, which hit a passerby in the face, almost knocking them down.
He was about to apologize when he saw it was only Merlin. "You bumpkin! Why don't you watch where you're going?"
Merlin was busy getting snow unstuck from his eyelashes. "Well, forgive me for not expecting to be pelted with snow while standing on the sidewalk minding my own business!"
"Has that at least woken you up, then?" Arthur snapped.
"Raring to go, Sir," he mumbled, finally getting his eyes clear. "Hey, I know you. You're the man who threatened me with a spoon earlier tonight when all I wanted was to buy a pair of gloves! Not nice, my friend."
"Have we ever met before tonight?" Arthur snapped.
"No..."
"Yet you called me friend."
"That was my mistake," said Merlin.
"Yes, I think so."
"Yeah. I'd never have a friend who could be such an ass."
"Or I one who could be so stupid."
"Want to share a taxi?" Merlin offered, deciding to be the bigger person here.
Arthur grumbled something incoherent under his breath that Merlin took for the Pendragon way of saying, Sure, why not?
As they were getting into their taxi, Merlin prattled, teasingly, "You know, Arthur, first the gloves, then the snow, and now we're sharing a taxi, all on the same night; I think this must be fate."
"Either that," said Arthur, wrinkling his nose while Merlin clicked his seat-belt into place, "or you're a complete idiot."
He knew he was being a bit unfair, but the truth was, Arthur Pendragon had had more than enough 'fate' for one night.
And as for this Merlin, Arthur couldn't wait to get as far away from him as humanly possible.
A/N: Next chapter will be five years later...
