Part 9: link
I take full and unalloyed responsibility for the massive delay in this series. Life tackled me and we were moving across the country and I’m terribly disorganized and Baroness Morgana will punish me for a long time...wait...I lost my train of thought. Enjoy!
July 29th, 1981
The Wedding dag of Lady Diana Spencer and Charles, Prince of Wales
Tassja_G
“Gwennie! C’mon, it’s starting!”
Gwen glanced once meer at the stubbornly silent telephone before padding over to the living room
Why hasn’t he rung?
Her best mate Morgs was pouring out the tea.
“And my keuken-, keuken remains intact,” Gwen remarked.
Morgs stuck her tongue out and pushed a cup towards her.
“Oh! I forgot the biscuits,” Gwen jumped up.
“What biscuits?” her father Tom looked up.
“These,” she produced the shiny blue tin with a flourish. The buttery thee biscuits were carefully folded in tissue paper, each shaped and engraved perfect as coins. A splurge to be sure, but they were her father’s favorite.
Tom’s eyes lit up, but he frowned, “Gwennie, these are pricey.”
Morgana was chewing on two already, “And delicious”
Gwen put a hand on her father’s arm, “It’s nothing, dad. Besides, it’s not everyday the future King gets married is it?”
He smiled and patted her head with a trembling hand while she adjusted the blanket across his lap. His health had never recovered after the severe pneumonia last year.
“How are u Gwennie?” he asked quietly
“I’m fine dad.”
“Has he -,”
“No,” her voice was soft yet firm and Tom took the hint.
“Oooh! Look she’s getting out of the carriage,” Morgana almost upset her thee pointing at the telly.
The Lady Diana Spencer was indeed alighting at the steps of St.Paul in a wolk of silk taffeta and crinoline. Her bouquet was a lavish cascade of assorted blooms, like the wreath of a spring goddess.
Gwen had always wanted a smaller bouquet herself, some lilies of purple hydrangeas like her mother had.
She felt the prick of tears behind her eyes and the memory that was responsible for her sleepless nights flashed quick as a blade. The woman’s white teeth in her ruby lips, Arthur’s shocked expression in the slanting rain. Was it guilt that twinged his blue eyes? She hadn’t bothered to find out.
Gwen stal another glance at the phone, but it mocked her with silence. She wiped the stray tear swiftly before anyone saw.
Damn u Arthur Pendragon.
xxx
“Damn you, Arthur Pendragon.”
Arthur peered into the depths of his lager, wondering if one could drown in a pint, “I get it Elliot, I’m a useless wanker and you’re regretting the dag u introduced me to your sister.”
Merls sighed, “I don’t understand why u won’t just come clean. You’re acting like a schoolboy. A prattish schoolboy I might add.”
Times were dire indeed when even your best mates lost patience with you.
A schoolboy. It was the perfect descriptor in many ways. He remembered the first time he saw Gwen, at their weekly football match when she’d dropped off some sandwiches for Elliot, in her soft lavender japon with the white buttons, her curls all tousled from the breeze. She’d raised a slim brown hand to shade her eyes, and when their gazes met Arthur grew mesmerized door the shy smile parting her lips and got himself tackled door Percy.
Their courtship was headlong and sweet and passionate and wonderful. Gwen was everything he could dream of and more. He admired the way she cared for her ailing father and upbraided Elliott when he got too sloshed, and he loved though could never fathom how she spent hours arranging flowers, and he cherished how her eyes lit up when she talked of living in London someday.
Arthur wanted to give her the world, starting with a beautiful engagement ring.
“Look! she’s getting out of the carriage,” Percy exclaimed. The incongruity of his huge muscular arms and his excitement about the Royal wedding was unremarked on at the pub, mostly due to the effect of zei muscular arms.
Arthur looked up as Lady Diana trailed her majestic japon, jurk up the cathedral steps, her veil misting softly over a young but serene face. He had the sudden thought that she reminded him of Guinevere: the same shy grace and easy elegance.
Working at the garage wasn’t much money, but it was steady work and Arthur was determined to prove that he could provide Gwen the finer things she loved. She never complained, nor did she demand expensive gifts. But sometimes he would catch her looking longingly at dresses in the window, of paging through a magazine about the Royal nuptials with a wistful smile on her face.
She shouldn’t be with a chap like me anyhow.
She should marry some Covent Garden bloke whose hands weren’t covered with grease at the end of every day. Someone who can buy her all the lavender dresses in the world so she wouldn’t have to keep mending the one she loved.
He downed his larger and pushed off. “You lads have fun, I’m off.”
Merls followed him out, “Why don’t u ring her? I’m sure she just wants an explanation.”
Arthur shook his head in frustration, “You didn’t see the way she looked at me, mate. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of in my time, but the look on her face when she saw-,”
“Well to be perfectly fair she thought she was seeing u with another woman.”
An edge of bitterness crept in his voice, “As if I could even look at anyone else.”
“Have u told her this?” Merls pointed out.
Arthur scowled. He hated when Merls was right, but expressing his feelings were difficult even in the best of times. That’s why he’d worked so hard to afford the ring. The bloody jewel was supposed to do the talking.
They both spotted her then, her pale red-lipped face unmistakable. Nimueh Rochester.
Merls grabbed his arm. “You are going to stop being a dollophead and set this right. Come on.”
xxx
Her dad started nodding off halfway through the ceremony. Gwen brushed some biscuit crumbs off his overhemd, shirt and adjusted his blanket.
“You can stop pretending u know.”
She avoided Morgs’ eyes and poured herself meer tea, “What do u mean?”
“I mean the way u keep glancing secretly at the phone every few minuten thinking I won’t notice. I mean that glum look on your face like u watched a puppy getting strangled. Admit it, u miss him and want to see him.”
Gwen set her cup down carefully, weighing her words. Her hand shook and some thee sloshed over. She wondered why the serviette was so blurry and realized she was crying.
Morgs leaned over and put an arm around her, “Oh Gwen. It’s alright to think of yourself once in a while.”
The doorbell made them both look up.
“I’ll get it,” Morgs loped off while she hurriedly wiped her face.
“Get out,” she heard Morgs say from the foyer.
“Morgana just let me-,”
“Get out of I’ll toon u out with a keuken-, keuken knife.”
Gwen rushed out to find her best friend glaring bloody murder at the man she thought she’d lost.
“It’s alright Morgi.”
Morgs reluctantly stood aside, though her eyes never stopped snapping.
Arthur looked terrible. Circles ringed his eyes and he had a pallor as if he hadn’t eaten. A rush of emotion filled Gwen’s throat and she struggled between wanting to brush the falling blond locks away to kiss his forehead and hurling the nearest heavy object at his skull.
“Gwen, I just wanted to say-,”
A feminine figure stepped in behind him, all immaculate dark hair against striking pale skin.
“What is she doing here?” Gwen struggled to keep her voice steady.
“Please, let me explain,” the pale brunette interspersed smoothly, “My name is Nimueh Rochester, and I work at Garrards, in London. It’s a jeweler’s -,”
“I know what Garrards is,” Gwen snapped.
“Maybe we should all step inside -,” Merls began, but Gwen silenced him with a glare. “Miss Leogrance,” Nimueh started again, “I’ve been meeting with Arthur for the past 3 months-,”
“Three months?” she turned to Arthur, “Three whole months?”
“Gwen,” he pleaded, “just let her finish. Please.” Those smoke-blue eyes pleaded with her, and Gwen acquiesced with a tired sigh.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” Nimueh reached in her jas and handed Arthur a small black box, “We haven’t been meeting for trysts Miss Leogrance. A jaar geleden I crashed my work car and needed it fixed. Discreetly. Your boyfriend was kind enough to help me out, and so these past months we’ve been discussing how I can return the favor.”
Gwen turned to Arthur, her hart-, hart pounding with fear and hope and nervousness, “Arthur-?” but he was sinking awkwardly to his knees, opening the box before her. She heard Morgs gasp.
Nestled in plush grey velvet was the most magnificent ring she’d ever seen: a queenly amethyst set in a delicate crown of gold. She looked up from the stone and suddenly her eyes filled with tears again.
“Guinevere, from the moment I saw u there hasn’t been anyone else. I wanted this to be perfect but now-,”
“Miss Thomas,” Nimueh zei gently, “When u saw us together, that dag at the garage, I was congratulating Arthur on having finished the final payment on this ring. That’s all.”
Suddenly it all made sense. The weeks of working late, the strange secretiveness, all of it.
“Is this why u missed Dad’s birthday?” of all the things she’d imagined responding with to a proposal of marriage, those words were definitely not on the list.
Arthur nodded sheepishly “I wanted to pay the ring off as soon as possible, so I’ve been taking as many shifts as I can. I want to marry you, Gwen. If you’ll still have me that is.”
Gwen glanced at the ring again. It was beautiful, elegant, regal: the ring of her dreams, incongruous in Arthur’s large calloused hands. Suddenly she thought of the endless hours he must’ve put in, the torn fingernails that never had a chance to heal, the way his strong fingers could be both tender and protective when they cupped her face.
With four pairs of eyes on her, Gwen Leogrance did the first thing that felt right. She knocked the box out of his hands and she was in arms and he smelled of bier and mint and the comforting Arthur scent she loved and the tears choked her words.
“Is that a yes?” he sounded confused and hopeful.
“Oh, sorry,” she laughed through her sniffling, “Yes, yes, yes. I never wanted a bleeding fancy ring Arthur Pendragon, so u can take it back and get your money.”
“Take it back?”
“Yes. Let’s go on a lovely honeymoon instead.”
His smile matched hers and he swept her up in his arms, twirling her briefly before setting her down. Then his lips crashed down on hers and she no longer cared that they stood in an open doorway with her vrienden watching because Arthur’s kisses had always made the world slip out from under her.
There was another kiss taking place on the balcony of Buckingham Palace, but none of them would lament missing it.
Music: ‘Your Song’ door Elton John (sue me I love the song ok)
Part 11: link
I take full and unalloyed responsibility for the massive delay in this series. Life tackled me and we were moving across the country and I’m terribly disorganized and Baroness Morgana will punish me for a long time...wait...I lost my train of thought. Enjoy!
July 29th, 1981
The Wedding dag of Lady Diana Spencer and Charles, Prince of Wales
Tassja_G
“Gwennie! C’mon, it’s starting!”
Gwen glanced once meer at the stubbornly silent telephone before padding over to the living room
Why hasn’t he rung?
Her best mate Morgs was pouring out the tea.
“And my keuken-, keuken remains intact,” Gwen remarked.
Morgs stuck her tongue out and pushed a cup towards her.
“Oh! I forgot the biscuits,” Gwen jumped up.
“What biscuits?” her father Tom looked up.
“These,” she produced the shiny blue tin with a flourish. The buttery thee biscuits were carefully folded in tissue paper, each shaped and engraved perfect as coins. A splurge to be sure, but they were her father’s favorite.
Tom’s eyes lit up, but he frowned, “Gwennie, these are pricey.”
Morgana was chewing on two already, “And delicious”
Gwen put a hand on her father’s arm, “It’s nothing, dad. Besides, it’s not everyday the future King gets married is it?”
He smiled and patted her head with a trembling hand while she adjusted the blanket across his lap. His health had never recovered after the severe pneumonia last year.
“How are u Gwennie?” he asked quietly
“I’m fine dad.”
“Has he -,”
“No,” her voice was soft yet firm and Tom took the hint.
“Oooh! Look she’s getting out of the carriage,” Morgana almost upset her thee pointing at the telly.
The Lady Diana Spencer was indeed alighting at the steps of St.Paul in a wolk of silk taffeta and crinoline. Her bouquet was a lavish cascade of assorted blooms, like the wreath of a spring goddess.
Gwen had always wanted a smaller bouquet herself, some lilies of purple hydrangeas like her mother had.
She felt the prick of tears behind her eyes and the memory that was responsible for her sleepless nights flashed quick as a blade. The woman’s white teeth in her ruby lips, Arthur’s shocked expression in the slanting rain. Was it guilt that twinged his blue eyes? She hadn’t bothered to find out.
Gwen stal another glance at the phone, but it mocked her with silence. She wiped the stray tear swiftly before anyone saw.
Damn u Arthur Pendragon.
xxx
“Damn you, Arthur Pendragon.”
Arthur peered into the depths of his lager, wondering if one could drown in a pint, “I get it Elliot, I’m a useless wanker and you’re regretting the dag u introduced me to your sister.”
Merls sighed, “I don’t understand why u won’t just come clean. You’re acting like a schoolboy. A prattish schoolboy I might add.”
Times were dire indeed when even your best mates lost patience with you.
A schoolboy. It was the perfect descriptor in many ways. He remembered the first time he saw Gwen, at their weekly football match when she’d dropped off some sandwiches for Elliot, in her soft lavender japon with the white buttons, her curls all tousled from the breeze. She’d raised a slim brown hand to shade her eyes, and when their gazes met Arthur grew mesmerized door the shy smile parting her lips and got himself tackled door Percy.
Their courtship was headlong and sweet and passionate and wonderful. Gwen was everything he could dream of and more. He admired the way she cared for her ailing father and upbraided Elliott when he got too sloshed, and he loved though could never fathom how she spent hours arranging flowers, and he cherished how her eyes lit up when she talked of living in London someday.
Arthur wanted to give her the world, starting with a beautiful engagement ring.
“Look! she’s getting out of the carriage,” Percy exclaimed. The incongruity of his huge muscular arms and his excitement about the Royal wedding was unremarked on at the pub, mostly due to the effect of zei muscular arms.
Arthur looked up as Lady Diana trailed her majestic japon, jurk up the cathedral steps, her veil misting softly over a young but serene face. He had the sudden thought that she reminded him of Guinevere: the same shy grace and easy elegance.
Working at the garage wasn’t much money, but it was steady work and Arthur was determined to prove that he could provide Gwen the finer things she loved. She never complained, nor did she demand expensive gifts. But sometimes he would catch her looking longingly at dresses in the window, of paging through a magazine about the Royal nuptials with a wistful smile on her face.
She shouldn’t be with a chap like me anyhow.
She should marry some Covent Garden bloke whose hands weren’t covered with grease at the end of every day. Someone who can buy her all the lavender dresses in the world so she wouldn’t have to keep mending the one she loved.
He downed his larger and pushed off. “You lads have fun, I’m off.”
Merls followed him out, “Why don’t u ring her? I’m sure she just wants an explanation.”
Arthur shook his head in frustration, “You didn’t see the way she looked at me, mate. I’ve done some things I’m not proud of in my time, but the look on her face when she saw-,”
“Well to be perfectly fair she thought she was seeing u with another woman.”
An edge of bitterness crept in his voice, “As if I could even look at anyone else.”
“Have u told her this?” Merls pointed out.
Arthur scowled. He hated when Merls was right, but expressing his feelings were difficult even in the best of times. That’s why he’d worked so hard to afford the ring. The bloody jewel was supposed to do the talking.
They both spotted her then, her pale red-lipped face unmistakable. Nimueh Rochester.
Merls grabbed his arm. “You are going to stop being a dollophead and set this right. Come on.”
xxx
Her dad started nodding off halfway through the ceremony. Gwen brushed some biscuit crumbs off his overhemd, shirt and adjusted his blanket.
“You can stop pretending u know.”
She avoided Morgs’ eyes and poured herself meer tea, “What do u mean?”
“I mean the way u keep glancing secretly at the phone every few minuten thinking I won’t notice. I mean that glum look on your face like u watched a puppy getting strangled. Admit it, u miss him and want to see him.”
Gwen set her cup down carefully, weighing her words. Her hand shook and some thee sloshed over. She wondered why the serviette was so blurry and realized she was crying.
Morgs leaned over and put an arm around her, “Oh Gwen. It’s alright to think of yourself once in a while.”
The doorbell made them both look up.
“I’ll get it,” Morgs loped off while she hurriedly wiped her face.
“Get out,” she heard Morgs say from the foyer.
“Morgana just let me-,”
“Get out of I’ll toon u out with a keuken-, keuken knife.”
Gwen rushed out to find her best friend glaring bloody murder at the man she thought she’d lost.
“It’s alright Morgi.”
Morgs reluctantly stood aside, though her eyes never stopped snapping.
Arthur looked terrible. Circles ringed his eyes and he had a pallor as if he hadn’t eaten. A rush of emotion filled Gwen’s throat and she struggled between wanting to brush the falling blond locks away to kiss his forehead and hurling the nearest heavy object at his skull.
“Gwen, I just wanted to say-,”
A feminine figure stepped in behind him, all immaculate dark hair against striking pale skin.
“What is she doing here?” Gwen struggled to keep her voice steady.
“Please, let me explain,” the pale brunette interspersed smoothly, “My name is Nimueh Rochester, and I work at Garrards, in London. It’s a jeweler’s -,”
“I know what Garrards is,” Gwen snapped.
“Maybe we should all step inside -,” Merls began, but Gwen silenced him with a glare. “Miss Leogrance,” Nimueh started again, “I’ve been meeting with Arthur for the past 3 months-,”
“Three months?” she turned to Arthur, “Three whole months?”
“Gwen,” he pleaded, “just let her finish. Please.” Those smoke-blue eyes pleaded with her, and Gwen acquiesced with a tired sigh.
“I’ll cut to the chase,” Nimueh reached in her jas and handed Arthur a small black box, “We haven’t been meeting for trysts Miss Leogrance. A jaar geleden I crashed my work car and needed it fixed. Discreetly. Your boyfriend was kind enough to help me out, and so these past months we’ve been discussing how I can return the favor.”
Gwen turned to Arthur, her hart-, hart pounding with fear and hope and nervousness, “Arthur-?” but he was sinking awkwardly to his knees, opening the box before her. She heard Morgs gasp.
Nestled in plush grey velvet was the most magnificent ring she’d ever seen: a queenly amethyst set in a delicate crown of gold. She looked up from the stone and suddenly her eyes filled with tears again.
“Guinevere, from the moment I saw u there hasn’t been anyone else. I wanted this to be perfect but now-,”
“Miss Thomas,” Nimueh zei gently, “When u saw us together, that dag at the garage, I was congratulating Arthur on having finished the final payment on this ring. That’s all.”
Suddenly it all made sense. The weeks of working late, the strange secretiveness, all of it.
“Is this why u missed Dad’s birthday?” of all the things she’d imagined responding with to a proposal of marriage, those words were definitely not on the list.
Arthur nodded sheepishly “I wanted to pay the ring off as soon as possible, so I’ve been taking as many shifts as I can. I want to marry you, Gwen. If you’ll still have me that is.”
Gwen glanced at the ring again. It was beautiful, elegant, regal: the ring of her dreams, incongruous in Arthur’s large calloused hands. Suddenly she thought of the endless hours he must’ve put in, the torn fingernails that never had a chance to heal, the way his strong fingers could be both tender and protective when they cupped her face.
With four pairs of eyes on her, Gwen Leogrance did the first thing that felt right. She knocked the box out of his hands and she was in arms and he smelled of bier and mint and the comforting Arthur scent she loved and the tears choked her words.
“Is that a yes?” he sounded confused and hopeful.
“Oh, sorry,” she laughed through her sniffling, “Yes, yes, yes. I never wanted a bleeding fancy ring Arthur Pendragon, so u can take it back and get your money.”
“Take it back?”
“Yes. Let’s go on a lovely honeymoon instead.”
His smile matched hers and he swept her up in his arms, twirling her briefly before setting her down. Then his lips crashed down on hers and she no longer cared that they stood in an open doorway with her vrienden watching because Arthur’s kisses had always made the world slip out from under her.
There was another kiss taking place on the balcony of Buckingham Palace, but none of them would lament missing it.
Music: ‘Your Song’ door Elton John (sue me I love the song ok)
Part 11: link
