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[fanfic] [Merlin] God Save The Queen
Gwen-centric
Gwen makes her own bed. She was a maid once; she knew how to fold her corners. It’s still crinkled with sleep as she tightens the edges, tugging them over the white sheets.
Gwen makes her own bed. It seemed smaller than she remembered.
Her father told her once, “All men d die, Gwen. You must remember that when you take a husband.” It seemed like a cruel thing to say and she told him as such, but he laughed, sharpening the blade.
“You cannot stop it any more than you can stop a river from flowing.”
She told him she was grateful she was born a woman. He smiled, roguish and beautiful, like sleep crinkled beds, and said he was grateful too.
She lifted the bans on magic. Morgana was dead. Arthur was dead. The Pendragons were no more.
Her hands shake when she signs the decree. Leon, bless him, doesn’t point it out.
Her bed is too big. She considers having it removed, but every time she looks at it, she changes her mind.
The Pendragon slips from her finger one day.
She can’t help the slight gasp that follows as she watches it roll under the table.
It’s recovered easily enough, but the dread remains.
In the night, Leon has dinner with her. They talk about anything and everything, the kingdom, the people, the knights… it passes dimly in Gwen’s mind, like midsummer breeze flitting through the trees.
She longs to pick up a sword again, to feel the metal against her callouses. She wants to be a serving girl again.
She thinks of the past and it makes her bitter.
Merlin never comes back.
Gaius waits, on the tallest tower, overlooking the gates.
He never stops.
But Merlin never comes back.
Gwen makes her own bed.
Arthur is dead.
Gwen makes his bed.
Gwen makes her own bed. She was a maid once; she knew how to fold her corners. It’s still crinkled with sleep as she tightens the edges, tugging them over the white sheets.
Gwen makes her own bed. It seemed smaller than she remembered.
Her father told her once, “All men d die, Gwen. You must remember that when you take a husband.” It seemed like a cruel thing to say and she told him as such, but he laughed, sharpening the blade.
“You cannot stop it any more than you can stop a river from flowing.”
She told him she was grateful she was born a woman. He smiled, roguish and beautiful, like sleep crinkled beds, and said he was grateful too.
She lifted the bans on magic. Morgana was dead. Arthur was dead. The Pendragons were no more.
Her hands shake when she signs the decree. Leon, bless him, doesn’t point it out.
Her bed is too big. She considers having it removed, but every time she looks at it, she changes her mind.
The Pendragon slips from her finger one day.
She can’t help the slight gasp that follows as she watches it roll under the table.
It’s recovered easily enough, but the dread remains.
In the night, Leon has dinner with her. They talk about anything and everything, the kingdom, the people, the knights… it passes dimly in Gwen’s mind, like midsummer breeze flitting through the trees.
She longs to pick up a sword again, to feel the metal against her callouses. She wants to be a serving girl again.
She thinks of the past and it makes her bitter.
Merlin never comes back.
Gaius waits, on the tallest tower, overlooking the gates.
He never stops.
But Merlin never comes back.
Gwen makes her own bed.
Arthur is dead.
Gwen makes his bed.