Title: Prelude to Eternity
Category: Het (Canon AU)
Characters/Pairings: Gwaine/Lady Vivian
Rating/Warnings: M
Summary: A bad temper? An overprotective father? Alas, those are only the beginning of the challenges Sir Gwaine will have to face if he hopes to win the hand of the woman he loves.

Author's Note: This story was written for The Chronicles of Camelot challenge, based off of this drabble. Set sometime following Series 4, with no connection to Series 5.

"Not that I don't sympathize, Gwaine, but murder might not be the best solution here."

"What?" I frown, glancing up from the sword I'm sharpening to find Percival looking down at me with a knowing grin.

"Well, Arthur would understand the impulse. No doubt about that. But I don't think he'd be too keen on going to war with Olaf either."

"Vivian?" Hesitating, I cast a quick look around the crowded armory. No… definitely not the time for jokes. If there's one thing I've learned since coming to Camelot, it's that rumors have a way of spreading like fire in a hayloft. "Trust me," I tell him with perfect sincerity. "I have no intention of killing her."

"Of course not," Percival agrees as he sits down beside me. "But you can't tell me the thought hasn't crossed your mind."

"Not for a second." Stuffing a gag into that pretty, yet exceptionally unpleasant mouth of hers wouldn't kill her, right? No need to mention that particular fantasy then... or the one about the spanking either.

"Right. What about last night when she called you a big, dumb oaf?"

I raise an eyebrow at him. "I think she was talking to you."

"Maybe," Percival says with a shrug. "Hard to tell the difference when she insults everyone that crosses her path. You wouldn't believe what I heard her saying to Merlin this morning."

"Sure I would. I'm the one who's spent the last week with her, you know. Not much would surprise me at this point."

"Come to that, why would you volunteer to serve as her escort in the first place? She's bleeding intolerable, and that's on a good day. No reason for it either, at least none that I can see. Rich, titled, beautiful... what's someone like her have to be so miserable about?"

"There you have it."

Percival blinks in confusion. "What?"

I lean down to retrieve a flask from my boot, taking a long drink before handing it off to him. "You want to know why I'm willingly subjecting myself to her company, right? Well, there you have it. Something isn't right with her, and I'm not giving up until I figure out what it is."

"Why?"

"Because I'm a nosy bastard," I tell him with a careless grin. "What other reason could there be?"

"Pheasant?" I ask my dinner companion with exaggerated politeness, offering her a succulent portion of the impeccably roasted bird.

"I don't like pheasant," she tells me in a haughty voice.

Patience, Gwaine, I remind myself, as I've had to do dozens of times over the past week. You'll wear her down yet.

"Fair enough," I say with a shrug. "How about some spiced apples then?"

"I don't like apples."

Impossible. I shake my head with a rueful smile. "Everyone likes apples."

"Maybe around here they do," Vivian says, letting out a delicate snort. "But some of us are accustomed to proper delicacies, not peasant fare."

Suppressing a heavy sigh, I try again. "Then tell me what you'd like, dear lady. Chicken? Strawberry tarts? How about some of the bread? Fine stuff it is, especially with some honey butter to top it off."

"I'm not hungry," she insists.

"You said the same thing at breakfast," I argue, wondering if the woman intends to starve herself to death out of sheer spite. "Then again at midday meal. You've got to be famished by now – why don't you just eat something?"

Vivian shoots me a contemptuous look. "If I do, will you shut up?"

It's a small victory, but a victory nonetheless. I relax, giving her a benign smile. "Yes. For the time being."

"How long do we have to stay here anyway?" she inquires after a moment as she nibbles delicately on a slice of cheese. When I don't answer right away, she snaps her fingers in front of my face. " Well?! I asked you a question!"

Unable to help myself, I shoot her a mocking grin. "I thought you didn't want me to talk."

Patience… yeah, I'm finding that more difficult than usual tonight.

"That's not what I meant and you know it," she says, her pretty features twisting into a scowl. "But nevermind. I'm going to my room."

"You can't leave yet. Night's just getting started."

Vivian sniffs as she rises to her feet. "I can do as I please."

"Of course you can," I agree. "But it's the queen's birthday – don't you want to stay for the celebrations? I know it's hard to believe, but it might not be so bad. Hell, maybe you'd even have a good time."

"What did I tell you about using that crude language around me?" she retorts, doing her best to look affronted. "No, I do not want to stay. I have better things to do than sit around listening to one of Arthur's boring speeches. Nor do I have any interest in subjecting myself to whatever cheap spectacles pass for entertainment around here. Now show me to my room."

Biting back a sharp retort, I escort her from the hall, shooting Arthur an apologetic look on our way out. The king responds with a shrug, clearly relieved that Vivian is under my charge rather than his. Indeed, I've shielded everyone from the brunt of her temper over the past week… I'm damned sure going to use their underlying gratitude to my advantage in the future.

"Can you walk a little slower, please?" Vivian demands in a shrill voice. "Or do you expect me to run to keep up with you?"

Although I'm walking at a perfectly normal pace, I make an effort to slow my footsteps. "Better?"

"No, now you're going too slow. I'd like to reach my chamber before next year, you know."

Without warning, something inside me snaps. "Maybe you should continue on by yourself then," I tell her through gritted teeth.

"Pardon me?"

Oh, Arthur's going to kill me, but I don't care anymore. The words just come spilling out… not a damn thing I can do to stop them even if I wanted to. "Look," I say, my voice soft and scathing. "I get that you're determined to be a pain in the ass. Hell if I know why, but you're not the only one who has better things to do tonight. I'm going back to the celebrations."

She stares at me in shock. "How dare you speak to me that way?"

I search for a proper response, but it's a useless effort – each one I come up with is worse than the last.

"You just wait until Arthur hears about this," she sneers, glaring at me with daggers in her eyes. "No, I take that back – that softhearted fool won't do a thing about it. I'll tell my father! Yes, and trust me, Sir Gwaine, he'll have your head for this, he'll…"

But she trails off as I take her hand and raise it to my lips. She's too taken aback to jerk it away as I press a lingering kiss to the backs of her fingers.

"My lady," I purr, giving her my best charming smile. "Whatever punishment your father could mete out will surely be next to nothing compared with the misery of having to put up with you."

Without another word, I turn on my heel and stalk away.

The first drink is easy. Impotent fury drives me to down it in several large gulps, then to go for a second without hesitation. This one is consumed more slowly as I stop several times to glower at the empty chair beside me.

By the third, I'm not even angry anymore, just strangely let down. Why do I feel this way? I knew what I was getting myself into, right? Arthur, Merlin… hell, everyone warned me about Vivian's foul temper. Had I honestly believed that my natural charm would turn her into some sweet, pliable maiden by the end of it all?

Yes, of course I had. Modesty has never been one of my virtues.

"I'm an idiot," I mutter to myself, reaching for my cup again.

"Not sure whether to agree or disagree with you there."

I jump, sloshing ale down the front of my tunic as I turn to face Sir Leon. The other knight offers me a refill, flashing me an apologetic smile before he continues. "If this has to do with Lady Vivian, don't be too hard on yourself. You've been doing the best you can. No one could expect more than that. She's… well, I don't like to speak ill of a lady, but she's insufferable. Always has been."

I nod, grateful that it was Leon who overheard me rather than one of the others. Less chance of mockery this way, which I'm definitely not in the mood for just now. "Not sure why I bothered, to tell you the truth," I admit, though I cringe at the obvious disappointment in my voice.

"Because the odds were stacked against you."

"What?"

Leon chuckles, giving me an appraising look. "You like a challenge… the more impossible, the better. Like to play the hero, and you do your damnedest to see the best in everyone. Also, Lady Vivian happens to be exceptionally beautiful…"

"It's not about that," I interrupt, avoiding his eyes. Having been raised at court, Leon is usually too well mannered to speak so frankly, but give him enough alcohol and he has an unnerving way of getting right to the truth of the matter. It's a quality I usually appreciate; right now, it just makes me uncomfortable.

"Maybe not," he concedes. "But you've never been one to take defeat so hard. I don't think it would hurt to figure out what's different this time around."

I respond with a grunt. No doubt he's right, but I'd rather put it from my mind until I feel a bit more settled. Fortunately, Leon seems to sense this and doesn't press me further.

Rising to my feet, I attempt to steady myself as I glance around the hall. It's nearly empty now – the king and queen have long since retired, followed by the other knights, officials, and courtiers. Only the servants remain behind, their faces drawn with weariness as they scurry about cleaning up after the night's revelers. Despite myself, I can't help feeling guilty for prolonging their duties. Try as I might, I've never gotten used to being waited on.

"Off to bed?"

I nod at my companion. "Seems like a good idea. Think I've drank my weight in ale tonight."

"That makes two of us," Leon agrees. "Well, good luck with Lady Vivian. I know she's difficult to deal with, but at least she'll be leaving the day after tomorrow, right?"

After the week I've had, full of sulking, insults, and constant complaints, that reminder should give me a great deal of relief.

Strangely enough, it doesn't.

Vivian looks even lovelier than usual when I show up at her door the following morning. Her hair is loose, tumbling in a wild cascade of golden curls down her back, her rose colored gown accentuating the bloom of color in her cheeks and her deep blue eyes. She's so beautiful, in fact, that it takes me a moment to understand the reason for it. She hasn't made a special effort with her appearance. She's still furious, which has an odd way of highlighting her beauty rather than diminishing it. Even her thunderous scowl is strangely appealing, catching me off guard with the sudden impulse to kiss her until it melts away.

Of course, I don't do any such thing. I might be brave to the point of recklessness at times, but in this case, I rather like my genitals and don't fancy the idea of being parted from them anytime soon.

"Good morning," I say instead, forcing myself into a respectful bow. "Are you ready for your morning ride?"

She snorts. "Not really, though I suppose being dreadfully bored outside is better than being cooped up in here all day."

"Expect you're right about that."

Patience is easier to come by this morning, probably because I still feel guilty for snapping at her last night. Beyond that, I'm a touch hungover, too weary to think up any snide comebacks much less utter them aloud. I just want a quiet, pleasant ride, immediately followed by a healthy dose of Gaius' famous tonic and a long nap.

Naturally, this is nothing more than wishful thinking. Vivian keeps up a relentless stream of complaints during our walk to the stables, reaching new levels of viciousness in her sniping remarks. At first, I don't know what to make of it – while she's never been what I'd call pleasant, her griping has never been half so cruel. Is this about last night then? The new trace of bitterness in her voice makes it seem so… but she strikes me as someone who has been genuinely hurt. Yes, this is more than a simple case of injured pride.

I want to apologize. It no longer matters whether she deserved to be put in her place. I don't want her hurting over something I've done, can't be bothered to wonder why I'm so intensely uncomfortable with being the cause of her distress. I don't like it… I want to make it right somehow. But what do I say? Is there any explanation I can offer that she would accept?

Before I have too much time to dwell on the matter, we arrive at our destination.

"Don't touch me!" she hisses as I reach out with the intention of helping her mount. "I can manage by myself."

Taking in her tiny figure, her cumbersome skirts, then the height of the waiting mare, I give her a dubious look. "I don't think that's a good idea," I tell her, keeping my voice soft and gentle. "Here, just let me boost you up."

"Try it, and I'll scream," she snaps. "I don't want your filthy hands anywhere near me."

I glance at my freshly washed hands, letting out a heavy sigh. "Well then at least let me summon one of the other knights. I really don't think you should…"

But she's already gripping the saddle, attempting to heave herself up with a series of muttered curses and frustrated grunts. My instincts scream at me to assist her, to hell with whether she likes it or not. But before I have a chance, her foot slips out of the stirrup, catching the horse directly in the flank.

And then everything is a blur of motion overlaid by screams of terror. Vivian is clinging desperately to the saddle, her legs dangling over the side as the mare takes off at a headlong gallop. I see everything… I know what's about to happen… I feel like the breath has been sucked from my body as I rush across the courtyard in their wake. There's nothing I can do, no way to prevent the horrifying conclusion as the animal rears and throws off its offending burden. Her fragile body is hurled through the air like a ragdoll, hitting the ground with a sickening thud.

Well, it isn't a thud, exactly. There's the awful sound of flesh slamming into stone, of course, but also something else… an unfamiliar, much sharper noise that I don't have time to question as I let out a hoarse shout and rush to her side.

"Vivian?" Oh shit. "Vivian?!"

No doubt she'd scold me for not using her proper title if she were conscious. I don't give a damn about propriety, however, can't concern myself over the liberties I'm taking as I run my hands over her limp body. There's a pulse, yes, strong and steady… I can feel the gentle rise and fall of her chest. A few bumps and scrapes… nothing to worry about there. My biggest concern is the cut on her forehead, from which a thin trickle of blood is seeping into her hair.

Why was I so angry with her last night? I can hardly remember now. At the moment, there's nothing I wouldn't give to have her open her eyes, even just to scowl at me and offer up one of her tart insults.

"Vivian? Can you hear me?"

When a few more attempts to rouse her have no effect, I see no other choice. Scooping her into my arms, unnerved by how light and fragile she feels, I race up the palace steps, tear through the corridors, and then kick open the door to the physician's quarters. I hear voices along the way, pick up on my name being called in tones of obvious concern, but it barely registers… the only thought in my mind, drumming over and over like a heartbeat, is I can't let her die. I can't let her die.

Both Gaius and Merlin are present when I burst into the chamber. The latter seems alarmed by the abrupt entrance, but the former has clearly had a lot of experience with frantic intrusions. With a curt nod, he gestures toward the narrow bed; I carefully lower Vivian to rest upon the pillows and then take a step back, fighting to control my harsh panting long enough to explain what happened.

Soon enough, I am soothed by the physician's placid bedside manner, breathing a sigh of relief when the prognosis is given.

"She'll have a nasty headache when she wakes up, but she's in no danger. Merlin can take over from here – I have a couple of urgent cases I must see to in the lower town."

After Gaius leaves, Merlin tends to Vivian's scrapes and abrasions, humming quietly to himself as he works. Now that my fears have been put to rest, I watch my friend with genuine interest. I rarely have the chance to see him at work this way. Whenever I do, I can't help thinking his talents are wasted on scrubbing floors and polishing armor. His hands are steady and sure, long, graceful fingers expertly spreading pungent smelling ointment over the wounds.

It isn't until he reaches the hem of Vivian's tattered skirt that he hesitates, awkwardly clearing his throat before speaking. "I-ah… I need to take this off. Check the rest of her injuries, you know. She should be awake in a few hours though if you want to come back."

Clearly my friend is trying to get rid of me. What's more surprising, however, is how reluctant I am to leave Vivian's side. Why? Gave me a scare, she did. That's all. It would've been terrible for her to have gotten herself killed while under my charge… Arthur would've never forgiven me, and my own guilt doesn't bear thinking. Of course I want to stay, just to make sure she's all right.

"Think I'll stick around," I tell Merlin, keeping my voice casual. "Just go on with what you're doing – nothing I haven't seen before."

Merlin's eyes grow wide. "You mean you and Lady Vivian…?"

"No! No, of course not. Just talking about women in general."

"Right," Merlin says, shifting uncomfortably. "Well, could you at least turn around?"

Smirking to myself, I present him with my back. "Better?"

"Yes. Now stay that way until I'm finished. This won't take long."

As soon as I hear the sound of ripping fabric, I'm stunned by the onslaught of visuals that flood through my mind, taken aback by my body's instant reaction. A solid week of pretending I'm not attracted to the woman, gone in an instant. Suddenly, it's all I can think about… sweet, lush breasts, slender waist, silky thighs… the pleasure that lies between them. Temperamental or not, Vivian is still a breathtaking beauty, I tell myself in sudden desperation. A man can hardly help… but it doesn't mean…

And then my jumbled thoughts are interrupted by a sharp intake of breath. It's a sound of pure shock, one I respond to by instinct as I spin around, my eyes darting from Merlin's bewildered expression to the woman lying half naked on the bed.

"What the hell is that?" I blurt out before I can stop myself.