The Guard (CS/Merlin Crossover)

6- Long Live the King

"Gwaaaaaiiiiiineeeeee!!!!" Emma yelled as she ran down the corridor to make her "knightly" wake-up call. The day after her last guard was dragged off, Gwaine was assigned to watch after her until they left, which was ideal. Anything she wanted to do would have involved Gwaine anyway; even if they didn't, it was fun having him around. They- Snow and Charming- thought that it would help her be more compliant if the princess had a more amiable face with her, and it certainly did. Her parents were not only at ease that the choice made the princess happier and more complacent, they had requested to take Gwaine with them as Emma's permanent guard.

Arthur promptly denied, Gwaine was a most trusted and skilled knight, and he would be foolish to let him go. The Charmings were disappointed by the decision, but impressed by Arthur's firmness and attitude despite having just attended Uther's burial.

So every morning since then, she woke the knight up, actually all the knights (they sleep on the same floor), with yelling from down the hall.

"Princess," Gwaine stepped out from behind his door, for once prepared. He wore brown pants, a faded baby blue tunic, and a brown belt with a sheath for his sword. He'd even combed his untameable dark mane.

"Oh look who's already up!" Emma teased. "Next thing you know you'll be waking me up!"

"I don't suppose so. I only woke up so early because Merlin came in about twenty minutes ago with a bucket of water. We're having something of a prank war... More on that later. Where are we off to today, Princess?" He asked as they started back up the corridor.

"Tomorrow is Arthur's coronation, and I have nothing to give him. My parents said not to worry about it, but I feel like I have to you know?"

"Yes. Luckily for you, I know an amazing marketplace," Gwaine grinned when Emma raised her eyebrows in question. They left the castle and walked amongst the stalls of the only market place in the city. Emma waddled in self-pity because she didn't feel like anything was present worthy. Finally, they came upon a blacksmith with ready made swords and daggers lain on a table for sale.

Emma spotted a gorgeously fierce yet elegant dagger at the very end as they passed and made Gwaine halt. The blade was a foot of lustrous steel, double edged, the guard rounded upward toward the blade, the grip was wrapped in fine red leather, and the wheel pommel was encrusted with a zircon gem. She picked it up, turning it in her hands, testing the blade's sharpness on her finger.

"Fine blade," Emma murmured.

"That it is little lady," the blacksmith grinned as he noticed them. "That's one a my finest. Made for kings, it is."

Gwaine smirked knowingly and Emma asked to buy it from him as long as he could engrave it for her that moment. The blacksmith set to work, and the duo made another round before returning to check if he'd finished.

"There you are milady," the blacksmith placed the dagger in front of her, newly engraved. Emma smiled mischievously as she sheathed the dagger to place it in her cloak and paid the man.

"What did you have engraved?" Gwaine asked her, not having paid much attention.

"Well to you and everyone else, it will read 'King Arthur'," Emma pulled him along the crowds more hurriedly now.

"And to you?"

"I'll tell you if you beat me to my chambers," the princess ran through the citadel, the knight left to chase after her. Of course after late nights of exploring the castle, Gwaine took a few shortcuts and was leaning against her door once she stumbled up to him. "Fucking cheater," she heaved.

He chuckled as she opened he door and they fell on her bed tiredly. "Well what are you gonna do?"

"Watch," she grabbed the blade around where the engraving was and murmured until a faint light glowed around her hand and the metal was heated red around her hand. The knight observed carefully, entranced as ever. The light died down, and she let go of the dagger. When he read the engraving, he saw the words "King Arthur."

"I don't understand, it still says 'King Arthur." Emma grinned at his misunderstanding.

"Good. That means it worked!"

###

"Emma, you didn't have to get him anything, we've already arranged a gift," Snow told her daughter as her family and Gwaine made their way to the coronation ceremony.

"I know Mom, but I wanted to,"Emma stared at the ornate red glass box encasing the sheathed knife. She really hated being without her cloak to shove stuff in her pockets. Gowns provided no concealment unless you wanted to kick something under your skirt.

"When did you become such a thoughtful, beautiful young lady?" Charming wrapped his arm around her shoulders and tucked her into his side. Gwaine resisted the urge to snicker as the princess gave him a sideways glance.

"Although it wouldn't hurt to be so considerate toward your guards," Snow lectured. Emma rolled her eyes, and Gwaine fought harder and harder not to giggle. The group finally entered the throne room, sitting near the front next to Merlin and Guinevere. The princess and her friends conversed until the trumpets sounded for Arthur.

"Ooh, here comes King Clotpole," Merlin whispered. Gwen elbowed him causing him to giggle. I swear these men are actually little girls, Emma thought, though that wouldn't have been a bad monicker.

Arthur's ceremony was simple and short, though he wore that melancholy cloud around him. At the end, he stood, crown on his head, and they all chanted "Long live the king!"

##

"My lord," Emma handed Arthur the delicate red box.

"This was unexpected Princess Pest," Arthur smiled briefly as he opened the box. She nodded  and he said, "I guess you can no longer call me Prince Prat." The princess gave a wicked smile as he read the little red letters across the blade: King Cretin.

"You've got to be kidding me," Arthur laughed and embraced her. "Thank you, Emma." He whispered.

"For what?"

"I dunno, making me laugh I guess. Your parent's anecdotes about you are quite funny too."

"Yeah, okay Cretin," she stepped back and tucked a blonde curl behind her ear. They smirked at each other, that moment to be kept between themselves.

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A/n: short and sweet I know, sorry.