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The forge is more or less in one piece. Gwen drops the rod she’d picked up when she first walked in, pushes aside a basket of scraps. Cenred’s army—Morgana’s army—had mostly left it alone. There wasn’t much to steal from a forge of immediate value. No gold or jewels. Just hard iron and steel, a little tin. Not worth much unless you could form it into something.
Her father’s tools are scattered across the floor among the overturned bins. A roof beam is splintered and someone tried to set the thatch aflame, but like most of the roofs in Camelot, they’d been blessed by a wet autumn. Gwen starts by moving the overturned furniture, then picking up all the bits of metal—tools included—and piling them by the side. It’s hard work, and long, and the bells are ringing at the gates by the time she can see the floor again.
Gwen returns in the morning, and the day after that, and sorts and cleans and mends the bellows with blisters on her fingers until there’s some semblance of order. When Elyan came back he’d taken a few weeks to repair everything, and when she’d made the keys, Gwen cleared out the forge itself so it’s not so bad, this time round, she thinks. Most of the damage is small. Little things. Missing things. Not like the castle. Or the kingdom.
Merlin’s been working on the first, and Arthur the kingdom. The knights have all been sent off to restore order to the towns and reform the guard. Gwen’s barely seen any of them.
So she keeps herself busy with the forge, and when it’s ready at the end of that first week she starts making nails because all of Camelot is rebuilding.
“So this is where you’ve got to.”
Gwen looks up from the fire, the bright sunlight backlighting the man in her doorway. But she doesn’t need to see him to know who it is.
“Hello, Arthur,” she smiles. Then she turns back to the glowing iron, drawing it out when it turns the right shade of orange and pounding it flat with her hammer. She hears Arthur shuffle inside under the noise and when she’s done, he hands her a cloth to wipe her face. “What are you doing here?”
“I heard there was a new blacksmith in town making us nails and bolts. Thought I would come introduce myself,” he says as he fiddles with her tools on the bench.
“Merlin told you,” says Gwen, smiling again. He’d been by two days before with a bright grin and a list of metalwork a page long for the repairs on the castle. She is working on a pair of braces for him right now.
Arthur shrugs and steps closer, taking her hand loosely in his. “Well, he may have mentioned it,” he says carelessly, not wanting to admit to Merlin’s usefulness. Gwen’s still not sure how he hijacked the carpenters from Arthur’s command, but with Uther unwell it was probably for the best.
Arthur’s fingers are as coarse as hers as he rubs them over hers. “I’ve not seen you at the castle recently.”
“I’ve been staying at my house. It’s all fixed up.” Gwen’s smile turns forced but she tries for cheerful even when Arthur raises an eyebrow at her.
“Funny, how it still looked run-down when I stopped by.”
Gwen jerks her hand away and glares. “It’s fine.”
“It’s not! Half the furniture is out of place and the door is practically off its hinges.” Arthur says, sharply, which only makes Gwen prickle because it’s still her house, entirely fixed up or not, and she can live there if she wants.
“It’s well enough. And the door is not off its hinges.” She picks up the cooling rod with her tongs and shoves it back in the coals.
“What’s wrong with your rooms at the castle?”
“I’m not a lady!” Gwen spins on him, surprising herself as well as Arthur with the vehemence of her words. “I was a lady’s maid, and now she’s gone, again, and with the court in disarray there’s no one who will hire me on.” She stares at Arthur, and they both seem to hold their breath. But his jaw clenches, and he blinks first, and Gwen sees that he doesn’t need her to spell out the real reason.
“You are. You will be,” he says stubbornly.
Gwen doesn’t confess the doubts that have crept in again. It’s more of the same, even now with everything changed. When she came back, when Arthur made it clear he was under no enchantment, Gwen’s place had shifted once more. The other servants will not give her the time of day, the court will barely look at her. “But I’m not yet,” she says instead. “And what would I do if I was, anyway? Watch everything happen from the window like Morgana did?”
Arthur’s expression closes at her name. “Everyone is pitching in,” he says softly, and Gwen raises her brows and glances around pointedly. Like clouds clearing, Arthur gives in and rolls his eyes skyward. “Fine, yes, you are pitching in here.” He steps closer again, and this time Gwen lets him take her hands in his and pull them to his chest. “You can mend my chain mail instead of embroider my shirts.”
“I’m so glad I have your permission,” she says tartly, annoyed by his tone. Arthur huffs and is too much of a prince, all of a sudden. “My father taught me this trade,” says Gwen. “Elyan won’t have time anymore, and there’s too much to do for Barney to handle on his own. I just can’t do nothing. I won’t.”
Arthur stills, and the boy he still plays at fades as he looks at her with the same considering gaze he gives his knights in council. Gwen holds it. She won’t be put aside this time.
“At least stay at the castle,” says Arthur finally, adding hastily when Gwen opens her mouth to protest, “So we can see each other more than once every fortnight.”
And Gwen would like that, though it would be easier to stay in town, imagines Arthur knocking on her door in the evenings with the smile that’s only hers. “And you worry,” she tells him. No matter the other reasons, he does, she can read it in his face as easily as she can read a fire. It warms her heart that he cares so.
Arthur makes a face, uncomfortable with her naming his emotions. He rubs his thumbs over the backs of her hands, holding them tight. “Your door doesn’t shut, do you blame me?”
“No. I just…I don’t know, Arthur.” She thinks of walking to and from her forge everyday from the castle, the eyes that would follow her across the courtyard. For all that he may understand how many customs they’re breaking, he doesn’t understand how it will be for her.
“Hey,” Arthur tips her chin up with their twined fingers. “They’ll have to get used to you no matter what. Might as well start now.” His hand is warm when he cups her cheek, and his lips are soft when they find hers. Gwen closes her eyes, amazed all over again that she can have this. That he loves her. And even if he can’t protect her from everyone against them, he’s going to try anyway. She sighs when the kiss breaks and he pulls her close.
“You’ll be Queen one day, Guinivere,” Arthur says into her hair. “I’ll have no one else.”
She hugs him back, cherishing the strength in his arms and the warmth of his heart, and forces her doubts away, at least for the moment. “Even if I run off to the forge everyday? And come to feasts with soot on my fingers?” The notion sets her own heart thumping at the scandal that would cause, and she grins.
“Even then.” He drops a kiss on the crown of her head. “Though I’m sure you’ll have trained your apprentice by then.”
“Apprentice?” Gwen pulls back and sees Arthur’s eyes dancing.
“We can’t have the best blacksmith in Camelot not pass on her craft,” he says.
“I’m hardly the best.”
“You better be with the rates I’m paying,” says Arthur playfully.
“Oh?”
“Yes. Merlin showed me.”
Gwen tries to suppress her giggles — she and Merlin talked about a lot of things but not price — but it bubbles out, and seeing it, Arthur curses.
“The lying bastard,” he says, but he’s not angry. “I knew he was having me on.”
“You’ll still be paying me of course,” says Gwen archly.
“Anything my lady wants.” Arthur’s laughter lingers between them.
“Your lady wants to get back to work.”
Reluctantly, he lets her go, but not before kissing her again, and Gwen has to push him away, laughing too. She shakes a hammer at him, and he goes, smiling.
“So you’ll stay at the castle tonight?” Arthur asks. Nothing is hidden in his question; Gwen has a feeling if she said no he’d accept it, grumbling, and perhaps with another visit to convince her again tomorrow. Gwen doesn’t think she’d mind too much if it meant seeing him. She wouldn’t mind seeing him every day if he kept looking at her like he was now, soft and fond.
“I’ll be in late,” she says.
“I’ll have Merlin bring you dinner.”
“And I’ll be coming back here early.”
“I’ll have Merlin bring you breakfast. No,” Arthur shakes his head. “He’s always late in the mornings. I’ll bring it myself. Remind you why you should come back.”
“Oh Arthur,” Gwen almost laughs, but even though he’s joking, she can see his worry too, not just about her safety but about them. “I’m not leaving.” She gestures around the forge with the hammer. “I need to do this, but I’m not leaving.”
“Good,” says Arthur. “Well then!” He forces a cheer into his voice, and looks at the door like he wishes it would open and someone would tell him that he didn’t have to go. “I should be getting back. Merlin’s probably destroyed another wall by now.”
“Yes, of course.” Gwen’s sure Merlin’s done nothing of the sort.
“I should go back. Supervise.” He makes a vague gesture back toward the castle but doesn’t move.
The corners of Gwen’s lips twitch. “Or you could stay and help me?”
“Right!” Arthur jumps in. “With the heavy lifting.” He grins and Gwen grins and they just stand like that grinning at each other before Gwen remembers that she does have two braces to finish, otherwise Merlin will be disappointed when he comes for them, and puts Arthur to work.