It was a typical evening at The Rising Sun. Elyan and Gwaine were leading the knights and townsfolk in a rousing rendition of some bawdy song about a milkmaid, Leon was sitting somberly, having given up on maintaining order but refusing to join the rabble, and Percival was carefully inspecting each pint, contemplating it like it held the answer to the mystery of life, and then downing it in one go before raising his hand for another.
The door opened, and another visitor joined the assembled company. She did not often frequent the tavern, but she was always welcome.
"Guinevere!" Gwaine shouted, walking on the tables to try and reach her.
Leon took Gwen's fingers and politely led her to an open seat, pulling out the chair. Elyan gave his sister a drunken kiss on the cheek, making a loud smacking noise, and Percival raised his glass to her.
"How are things?" Leon asked.
Gwen straightened up. "They have decided to 'consider the matter.'"
Leon, Elyan, Gwaine and Percival all groaned.
"You know what that means," Percival muttered.
"They're having marathon sex," Gwaine said, a little more loudly than he'd intended.
"I don't suppose you could keep it down," Leon said mildly.
"Better than when they're fighting and Gwen has to mediate," Elyan pointed out.
"Yes!" Gwaine stood up onto the table again, raising his tankard above his head. "I would like to propose a toast!"
Everyone in the tavern turned to look up at him. Gwaine grinned.
"To the Princess Guinevere! Someday I'm sure the bards will tell of her wisdom and strength and honor. They already tell of her great beauty. But we'll all remember her for her patience and sacrifice—nay, her martyrdom!"
"Martyrdom?" Gwen echoed.
"For it is this woman who, for some God forsaken reason, puts up with Arthur and Merlin when they're having a spat, or cranky for no good reason whatsoever—"
"Gwaine, you suggested getting them chastity belts and throwing away the key."
"—or when they're so damn horny they can't get anything done," Gwaine finished. "And so I propose this toast for the Princess Guinevere, our mediator, our go-between, and our savior from the insanity of our king and consort. To Gwen!"
"To Gwen!" The tavern echoed.
Meanwhile, in the king's chambers of the castle…
"D'you think we should tell them we know they buy Gwen drinks?" Merlin yawned.
Arthur had been petting Merlin's hair, but paused to consider the matter. Merlin made a discontented noise and draped himself more firmly over Arthur, who obligingly resumed the petting. "I don't see why we should ruin their fun."
"Good point," Merlin said. "But one day I'm going to be in there and wait for Gwaine to give one of his 'three cheers for Guinevere' speeches and I'm going to pop out of the woodwork and ask what the three cheers are for."
"Don't give him a heart attack, he's one of our best knights."
Merlin smiled. "It'll only be a little heart attack."
"You are incorrigible."