Entry: DC05En05

Title: Won't you let me draw my guard?

Word count: 1,364

Theme and/or Prompt/s: AU

Rating: G

Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Guinevere, hint of Guinevere/Lancelot

Spoilers: None

Disclaimer: Merlin belongs to Shine and the BBC.

Summary: AU where Gwen and Arthur have never met, and the first time they do Arthur lies.

Author notes: Unbeata'd. Gwen's a noblewoman of some kind (coz I thought that would be fun) and Arthur's King.

Gwen wanders through her new quarters – absently taking mental notes – the fireplace looks like it could use a bit of a clean, the tiles around the grate tinged with ash. She rests a hand on the mantel for support as she uses a boot to scrape at it and it seems to come off easy enough. If she has time later maybe she’ll-

“What are you doing?” asks a curious voice.

Turning towards the door she meets steely blue eyes and for a moment he looks unsettled before the confidence returns. “Are you mute?”

She can feel the faint smile on her lips as she flushes slightly – something she never does anymore – gathering her skirts in her hands she makes her way over to the doorway where the man is leaning nonchalantly. His eyes studying her as curiously as she studies him.

“No,” she answers finally, when she stands before him. His clothes signify a certain importance, the colours too rich and the fabric too fine for him to be just any old lurker. But the cocky tilt to his head hits a nerve, she’s grown used to ignoring it – it is unavoidable of course, for a man of importance to think of himself otherwise – but this man. He’s different.

His sandy brows go up when she doesn’t explain her presence and he stops leaning and stands at his full height. He’s quite a bit taller then her. “You don’t know who I am?” it comes out as a question – though she’s pretty sure he meant to state it – and it’s as if he can’t quite believe it.

Should I? She thinks, but keeps her face pleasant – it is a trick she learned so many years ago that has become instinct whenever she comes across someone disconcerting – her head ducking slightly, as any lady should be expected to. “How am I to know if you don’t introduce yourself? I fear manner dictates that you do so before we can engage in conversation.”

He smiles, and it’s quite an amiable expression on his proud face. The colour of his eyes lightens to a sky blue. And despite herself she begins to feel more at ease. “…Merlin,” he says after a moment and reaches out to take her hand, pressing a kiss to the back.

It’s a very overly familiar move for someone she just met and Gwen feels her face heat up again, the hair on her arms standing up as his warm breath whispers over her skin before he looks up at her expectantly.

“Guinevere,” she breathes, wondering vaguely what has possessed her to use her full name. She swallows as he looks at her as if trying to place something, before dropping her hand. The skin where his lips pressed burns, she wipes it against her skirts as she frowns, “Merlin? The sorcerer?” she inquires, looking him over with new eyes. He’s not what she expected. “You advise the King?” she asks tactlessly.

She wants to bite her tongue as his eyes widen, the grin returning as he turns to look up at the ceiling, like he can’t look at her anymore. “I like to think so. Although, most of the time the King does know what he’s doing,” he replies.

Feeling more confident with his eyes off her she takes more time to study him – and it’s not as if she’s never seen an attractive man before and really he’s not that much more attractive then…but those eyes.

And of course her mouth moves faster then her brain.

“I imagine everybody hopes so,” she says, amused when he looks back at her swiftly as if someone pulled a string attached to his chin.

It suddenly occurs to her how unwise it is to speak so candidly with a perfect stranger – and the King’s advisor at that – she knows better, and it’s not as if she has the choice – this is to be her new home. She needs to remember her place. And she needs to go.

“My lord, I hesitate to keep you from your duties and I do hope you won’t take any of my words to heart. The journey here has quite jostled my temper and my mind is trying absurdly to take in all of my new surroundings at once.”

Seemingly unconcerned at her babbling or the hour of the day – almost midday and time for court to begin – he frowns. “You arrived today? But there was no announcement of a party arriving in the courtyard.”

Horribly Gwen feels herself flush again – this strange man seems able to call it forth at will and it is a terribly disagreeable trait in a new acquaintance – and sighs. “I may have hurried ahead of my,” the word that comes to mind is keepers but she bites it back, “assemblage, it is bothersome to be so close to ones destination and be forever stopping for what I am told was my benefit. So, I thought if perhaps they no longer had to worry about me they could increase their pace.”

‘Merlin’ licks his bottom lip, looking at her in a mixture of admiration and disbelief. “You rode ahead, alone, in a effort to set a quicker pace?”

Embarrassed Gwen looks away, “Impatience is one of my greatest follies.” She glances back at him, feeling the need to explain further. “Attractive particularly after travelling for the better part of a week.”

“And what awaits you here?”

Unbidden as usual a smile forms – she’s looked in the mirror often enough to know how it looks, besotted is a hard look to carry off gracefully. “My betrothed. He’s one of Cam-”

“Betrothed,” ‘Merlin’ cuts in and she almost thinks he looks disapproving …whatever that means. Perhaps, women in Camelot are expected to be escorted by their intended.

She really needs to catch up on the proper protocols.

“Yes,” she nods, “You must know him, La-”

“Lancelot?” he says softly.

Gwen nods and his face closes off, back to the detachment of before.

She can’t help the feeling that she’s said something wrong and he’s pulling away. Which is what she wants isn’t it?

“You do know of him?” she enquires and is rewarded by his mouth tightening.

But this is wrong, Lancelot has spoken often of Camelot – so often that she feels at home here, comfortable as if she is returning instead of arriving – and always he has mentioned the King’s right-hand man as jovial, erratic even, but never sullen.

‘Merlin’s’ gaze returns to her as if he’d forgotten her presence and he bows slightly, “If you’ll excuse me, Guinevere, I must attend court, they loathe to begin without me…unfortunately,” he mutters the last bit but she catches it.

And then he spins and strides quickly away, long legs carrying him further and further down the corridor as she leans out to watch.

Gwen feels a strange sense of loss at the abrupt end to the conversation and without warning the weight of being a stranger in a foreign castle; foreign Kingdom catches up with her.

She’s confused. He seems completely unable to hold a mood for more then a few minutes and they switch without warning.

Except…and it’s foolish to think it – and she must be tired to be even considering it – but when she had mentioned Lancelot he had…there had been…just for a second, a small flicker of…

Anger.

At what she doesn’t know, for Lancelot is well liked wherever he goes; his good humor and good heart guarantee it. So surely…

And then there is the way he had said her name – making her feel as if she was finally hearing it for the first time – causing something, something deep inside her to shiver.

He’s familiar, that’s what’s so disconcerting.

This man, sorcerer, advisor, whatever he is, whomever he is, feels known to her.

And he’s taken something from her in their short moment together. Revealing something that she hadn’t realized she had.

Doubts.