Has Arthur been hit by cupid’s arrow?
Actor Arthur Pendragon (26) has been seen walking around London and going to lunch with a mystery woman. The two seemed close as they shopped in Soho. It’s only been a few months since Arthur’s split from model Sophie O’Shea (23) after she cheated on him with his close friend Valiant Dixon (27). Has cupid’s arrow hit the bull’s eye or is it just a rebound? For more on Sophie’s spicy sex scandal, click here!
Arthur becomes Arwen?
Arthur Pendragon (26), who’s currently filming in London for the BBC, has been seen spending more time in the company of Gwen Smith (24) than any of his other friends lately. There hasn’t been any statement from Pendragon, but could this mean that he’s moved on from heartbreak? Sources close to Pendragon say that he and Gwen have been close friends for years and that it was only a matter of time until they got together. For all about Arthur’s previous relationships and whether he’s the right boyfriend for YOU click here.
Arwen’s gettin’ serious!
Arthur Pendragon (27) is notoriously famous for keeping his personal life out of the public eye. Refusals to comment on his relationship with Gwen Smith (25) can’t stop us from rooting for them, though. Gwen has been spotted out and about in London yesterday and – wait for it – there’s something new about her! Take a closer look at the exclusive shot we’ve captured. Yes, that is indeed an engagement ring on her finger! Guess it’ll be time to call her Mrs Pendragon soon?! For more about Arthur’s and Gwen’s happy relationship, click here.
Surprising news from Arwen!
Although we were never able to spot Gwen and Arthur on their wedding day, and Arthur still refuses to wear his wedding ring, Gwen Smith (or Pendragon?) (26) has been seen shopping for – you won’t believe this – baby clothes! She was seen in one of London’s commercial areas, shopping for baby clothes. Take a look at these photos – she definitely wasn’t shopping for a friend. For more pictures of Gwen’s baby bump, and a look at what her and Arthur’s baby might look like in the future, click here!
Gwen Smith rushed to hospital
Gwen Smith (26) has been rushed to the hospital earlier this afternoon. Gwen is rumoured to be secretly married to Arthur Pendragon (28). We don’t have any details yet but it looks like the baby is going to see the light of day soon. With her was family friend Lancelot DuLac (31), who’s been a close friend to her and Arthur for years and has often been seen in London in Gwen’s company – without Arthur! Have he and Gwen been having an affair all this time? Read all about the scoop on these two by clicking here.
Arthur sighs and deletes the email from his agent. Mithian has been telling him for months that he should make an official statement about him and Gwen, but he just doesn’t see the point. The press will write what they want, giving them more fodder would only make things worse.
He shuts off his phone in anticipation of the cabin address to put all devices in flight mode, and pockets it. He’s deliberating putting it inside his cabin bag in the overhead compartment, just as someone hits him in the shoulder with their own carry-on bag.
“Oh, gosh, sorry!” the man apologises immediately, and then proceeds to stuff his own carry-on in the compartment, seemingly determined to wedge it in. The overhead really isn’t all that spacious and it was already crammed when Arthur put his carry-on in.
“Hey,” the man says, and nods at the middle seat next to Arthur. “Do you wanna get up or should I do some acrobatics? I must warn you, my elbows are just as dangerous as my luggage.”
His smile is much brighter than the situation warrants, and his accent is English which means that he must be one in a thousand Brits who doesn’t comply with the social rule of never talking to strangers unless absolutely necessary.
Then again, Arthur’s famous, so most people assume they know him and have no hangups about talking to him either way.
Arthur opts to stand up and step into the aisle to let the man sit down. He’s as tall as Arthur, but that’s where their similarities end. Where Arthur’s blond and tanned, the man’s got black hair and is incredibly pale. He’s skinny, and probably would’ve been able to wedge himself between Arthur and the seat in front of him to get to his own seat without Arthur needing to move, but Arthur’s not really into letting strangers climb over his lap – regardless of how attractive they are.
The man plops down into his seat, and then lifts his arse up again, bracing his shoulders against the seat, to dig the seatbelt out from under him. Arthur does not watch, because that would be rude and creepy, no matter how long the man’s legs seem to be, or how fluffy and touchable his hair looks.
Arthur sits back down, and buckles his own seatbelt – only now realising that he’s missed the chance to put his phone away after all. Well, he’s not getting up again.
The stranger’s looking at him for just a moment, and then deliberately turns away to start up his Samsung tablet. Arthur wonders if the man recognised him or if Arthur’s managed to hide his identity well enough in the oversized hoodie, and the baseball cap he’s wearing.
Maybe he’s looking at you because of the hoodie and the baseball cap, a voice that sounds eerily like Gwen says inside his head. Arthur sighs, and leans back in his seat, continuously fidgeting with his phone.
Only a few more hours, and he’ll be home to make sure Gwen’s okay.
Merlin wakes with a start, and it takes him a couple of seconds to remember where he is and what he’s doing there.
Plane, London, emergency. Right.
He sits up, stretches his legs (although not far because of the much too small legroom), and then rubs his cheek where he’s been leaning against something soft.
Slowly, he turns his head to the left, only to realise that, oh God, he’s slept on Arthur Pendragon’s shoulder – and drooled on it.
Immediately, Merlin’s cheeks burn with embarrassment. “Oh no, I’m so sorry,” he apologises. “I didn’t mean to do that. You should’ve pushed me away or woken me up. I’m really so sorry. I didn’t get enough sleep last night, and I desperately needed a kip before we land, and did I mention that I’m sorry?”
Arthur looks at him dismissively, smiling in a rather arrogant way that Merlin’s seen from him on screen before. “It’s fine,” he says, sounding even more arrogant than he looks. “I’ll just send you the dry-cleaning bill for all the slobber on my clothes. I think my skin got wet too. You really do drool a lot in your sleep, do you know? I just hope you’re not contagious in any way. Myself, I wouldn’t want to start going around and falling asleep on strangers like some kind of narcoleptic zombie. I suppose that’s what I get for flying economy.”
Merlin’s not entirely sure if this is supposed to be a joke, but if it is, it’s not particularly funny in his opinion. After all, if Arthur had minded that much, he could’ve woken Merlin, and if he was joking, he really needed to work on his comedy skills.
“You’re the one who let me get on with it,” he says, snappier than intended. “And it’s not my fault you had to slum it in cattle class. Next time, do us all a favour and stick to first class or private charters.”
Earlier, he’d contemplated asking Arthur for an autograph before they get off the plane. Now Merlin’s determined not to let on that he knows who Arthur is – or that he’s had an enormous crush on him for the longest time. Because, what he is, clearly, is a self-absorbed wanker of a spoilt prick and thus not crush-worthy.
Arthur doesn’t respond right away, and Merlin quickly turns his attention back to his tablet. Maybe he can channel his anger into reading the case study that he was supposed to learn more about during the conference in Italy, before he was called back for an emergency.
Unfortunately, he keeps getting distracted by how upset he is at finding out that his celebrity crush (and wank fantasy number one) turned out to be such a tosser.
Arthur’s not entirely sure how he managed to offend the man. He was the one who rammed into Arthur when he boarded, and who fell asleep on Arthur’s shoulder and then drooled all over it. All Arthur had meant to do was to share a joke and laugh the whole thing off.
Truth be told, Arthur had kind of been charmed by the whole thing. The man had clearly been dead tired despite his best efforts to stay awake and read something on his tablet. Arthur really isn’t the kind of person who’s comfortable around strangers, let alone with being touched by them. However, there’s something about this man that put Arthur at ease. Going by how easily the man had dropped onto Arthur’s shoulder and then stayed, and by how not at all uncomfortable in any way Arthur had felt, he had sort of hoped to be able to talk to the stranger a little more after he woke up.
He might concede that his attempt at a cheeky smile and conspiratorial tone of voice has gone wrong, though. That’s what he gets for attempting to be funny when he’s exhausted and worried.
Arthur had been too shocked at the man’s outburst to respond right away, and now, every time Arthur so much as inhales audibly, the man sighs in exasperation and glares at his tablet.
No one has ever talked to Arthur like that. Everyone he meets knows who he is, and they all simper and make cow eyes at him, or are – at the very least – unfailingly polite and respectful.
This guy not only suggested crawling all over Arthur to get into his seat at the beginning of their acquaintance, he’s since made it very clear that he thinks Arthur’s arrogant and incredibly rude – except that he used much more colourful language to say as much.
People have been staring at him, some of them even turning around in their seats or craning their necks to get a good look at who was thrashed so thoroughly.
If Arthur weren’t so embarrassed and annoyed by the whole thing, he’d be much more impressed by the man’s attitude.
(He would also, possibly, find it a little bit hot, and, equally possibly, be inclined to consider that with a person like that as his partner, the press would have a feisty opponent who wouldn’t be cowed by the nonsense they write.)
Arthur pulls the hoodie lower and sinks deeper into his seat for the rest of the flight.
At least Pendragon – Merlin refuses to call him by his first name anymore – is as eager and quick to get off the plane as Merlin. Merlin doesn’t care that it’s probably because Pendragon doesn’t want to spend any more time near Merlin than he has to.
However, Merlin does care that when he exits terminal five at Heathrow to find a cab, the only one left is the one that Pendragon has already flagged down.
Merlin glares at the sky for a second to tell the universe exactly what he’s thinking of it right now, and then rushes forward.
“I need that cab!” he calls just as Pendragon’s about to climb into the backseat.
“Excuse me?” Pendragon says, eyes wide as saucers.
“I need that cab,” Merlin repeats.
“I don’t care,” Pendragon says, looking unimpressed, and yeah, okay, Merlin can see why Pendragon wouldn’t care about Merlin’s demand.
“Listen,” Merlin says. “I need to go to the hospital. It’s an emergency, and I don’t know what’s going on that this is the only cab lined up at the moment, but I really cannot wait for another one to arrive.”
Pendragon frowns as Merlin for a moment, still blocking the door. After at least half a minute has passed in which they’ve tried to stare each other down unsuccessfully, the cabbie clearly has enough. He grunts unhappily, and then calls back to them: “What hospital?”
“King’s College Hospital,” Merlin says tersely. It’s over an hour by car to get there and he really can’t afford to waste more time.
“Hop in,” the cabbie calls sounding, if anything, even more annoyed than before. “That’s where this one’s going as well.”
For a moment, Merlin thinks Pendragon will continue to fight him, but then he folds himself into the back seat behind the driver, and Merlin quickly drops into the seat on the other side, as far away from Pendragon as possible, and pulls the door shut.
Neither of them says anything to the other the entire seventy-five minutes it takes them to reach the hospital, and it looks like, for once, the cabbie has no desire to chat at them. Merlin’s grateful for it, and calls the hospital as soon as they’re out of the airport, just to let them know he’s on the way, and, traffic willing, will be there soon. Pendragon doesn’t call anyone, but he’s on his phone, texting, the entire ride.
Merlin tips the driver way too much but he’s truly earned it for getting them here so fast, and for dropping them off at the back entrance where he’s not even supposed to stop. Merlin’s glad for it though, and he shoots off into the hospital, not waiting to see where Pendragon’s going.
The quiet in the cab had been as unnerving as it had been soothing. Arthur’s grateful that the man didn’t feel the need to make inane small talk, or interrogate Arthur about why he’s heading for the hospital. At the same time, he wishes he’d had something to distract him from his worries.
At the hospital, Arthur doesn’t see where the man heads off to, and he doesn’t care. His agent told him to avoid the main entrance if possible, because the media are camped out there and just waiting for Arthur to show up. It’s a bit of a miracle that the cabby drops them off at A&E without being asked, and Arthur adds a hundred quid to the fare as he exits the cab, to say thank you.
Lance, thankfully, texted him where to find them, but given that he’s entering the hospital from the wrong side, Arthur has to spend the next couple of minutes searching for a directory, and ends up taking two wrong turns before he finally locates Gwen’s room on the fourth floor.
When he arrives over twenty minutes later, he only finds Lance there.
“What’s happened? Where is she?” Arthur asks, looking around the room wildly as if he expects Gwen to be hiding in the loo or inside the closet.
“They took her to the theatre already,” Lance replies, and Arthur can hear how tired and worried he is.
The pregnancy has been going well, except for this last trimester when Gwen was ordered to rest because there were complications that would endanger her and the baby if she didn’t take care of herself.
As it is, the baby’s three weeks early, which is why Arthur was out of town in the first place. His shoot was supposed to end by next week, and he would’ve been back in plenty of time to be here for Gwen when the baby came.
Trust the little bugger to thwart all their plans.
Arthur sits down next to Lance on the couch, putting an arm around him. “She’ll be okay. If they took her in for the c-section, then that means the specialist is here, right? You said they were only waiting for the surgeon to arrive.”
Lance nods. “Yeah. They took her not too long ago. She was already prepped and everything, and then they whisked her away, maybe half an hour before you got here. Sorry I didn’t let you know right away.”
“Don’t be silly,” Arthur admonishes him. “You had other things on your mind.”
He squeezes Lance’s shoulder, and from here on out, all they can do is wait.
The hours tick by, and occasionally a nurse will drop by to give them an update on Gwen, but other than that, they’re left to themselves in the private room that Arthur’s made sure to get for Gwen.
At some point, Arthur fetches them coffee and snacks from the cafeteria, and even manages to talk Lance into eating something with him.
It’s much later when a nurse wheels Gwen back into the room. She’s still asleep from the anaesthesia, and looks much too pale and small in the bed, but she’s alive, and that’s all Arthur cares about for the moment.
“The baby?” Lance asks, sounding every bit as anxious as he looks.
“Is fine,” the nurse says, smiling. “We’ll take you to see your baby soon,” he promises, and Arthur relaxes instantly.
“The surgeon will be by in a little bit to talk to you about the surgery and further care for your wife,” the nurse says, and both Arthur and Lance nod absentmindedly. They don’t even notice when the nurse leaves them alone with Gwen.
It takes a little over half an hour until someone else walks into the room, and Arthur puts it down to stress and the change in clothes that he doesn’t recognise the man from the plane immediately.
He’s dressed in blue scrubs, glaring pink and electric blue running shoes on his feet, and he looks every bit as good as he did when Arthur saw him for the first time, despite appearing even more tired and stressed now.
“Well, I guess that explains why we were going to the same hospital,” the man – Dr Emmerson – says. There’s a mischievous smile playing around his lips and Arthur’s not quite sure what to make of it. Last time he saw him, Emmerson didn’t think all that much of Arthur.
“You must be Mr DuLac,” Dr Emmerson says to Lance. He holds out his hand, and Lance, still a bit sluggish from residual anxiety and probably a sudden drain of adrenaline, stares at Dr Emmerson unblinkingly for several seconds before he nods slowly.
“Maybe you’d prefer to get some sleep before I give you more information about your wife’s surgery?” Emmerson suggests, clearly noticing that Lance isn’t up to taking in anything beyond the fact that his wife and child are okay.
“You can tell me,” Arthur puts in. “I’ll update him once he’s more coherent.”
Emmerson frowns at Arthur, and they end up in another weird staring contest which, once again, neither of them wins nor loses because they get interrupted by Lance.
“You can tell Arthur,” he confirms. “Most people mistake him for Gwen’s husband anyway. Might as well put him to work as one for a change.”
Arthur huffs a laugh because that’s the most Gwen-like thing to say, and it pleases Arthur that Lance has adopted some of her humour.
“Very well,” Emmerson says, and then breaks the operation down for Arthur and Lance, and what to expect for the next couple of weeks while Gwen recovers and the baby is held in the neonatal ward until it’s reached the ideal size and weight to be taken home.
“Is it a boy or a girl?” Lance asks finally.
“It’s a bit early to tell,” Emmerson says, grinning brightly. “But if it turns out that your child’s gender matches the binary assigned by society, then, according to its genitals, it’s a girl.”
Arthur needs a couple of seconds to parse that statement, and by the looks of it, Lance is even slower to catch up, but eventually, they both break into a bright smile.
“A tiny Gwen!” Lance exclaims. “I’ve got a daughter, Arthur!”
Arthur laughs with him, and they hug tightly, only interrupted by Dr Emmerson clearing his throat noisily.
“Mr DuLac, if you like you can go see your child now. Ask for Percy at the nurse’s station. He’ll take you to them.”
Emmerson clearly meant to sound aloof, but it’s obvious how happy he is for Lance and Gwen as well. Arthur wishes he could go with Lance to see the baby, but he guesses that would be too many people in the ward at once – especially since he’s not actually related to the child in question.
Lance, exuberant as ever and decidedly more awake now, hugs Dr Emmerson tightly, startling him into a surprised laugh, and then all but runs from the room to find nurse Percy.
That leaves Arthur alone with Emmerson in Gwen’s room. An awkward silence stretches, and for once, neither of them is making eye contact with the other.
“So,” Emmerson says at length. “Not married after all.”
Arthur groans. “You do know who I am. You knew the whole time, didn’t you?”
Emmerson smirks. “I did,” he says, sounding much too gleeful. He holds out his hand, then.
“Merlin Emmerson, neonatal surgeon, and––” he furrows his brow, apparently thinking hard. “Drooling narcoleptic zombie,” he finally adds.
Arthur laughs, and takes Emmerson’s hand. “Arthur Pendragon, actor, and self-absorbed wanker,” he returns.
Emmerson doesn’t so much as flinch. “Maybe less self-absorbed,” he concedes. “Definitely a wanker though.”
“Hey!” Arthur protests, but there’s no heat in it.
“Do you have to shout?” a groggy voice sounds from behind them, and Arthur whirls around to find Gwen blinking blearily at them.
“I just had major surgery and you have nothing better to do than to flirt with the medical staff,” she accuses Arthur, and Arthur can feel his cheeks heat up.
He was not flirting. Much.
Emmerson comes to his rescue, thankfully, and quickly introduces himself to Gwen.
He gives her the short version of what he told Arthur and Lance earlier, and concludes by giving her the same answer to the question of whether it’s a boy or a girl that he gave them.
Gwen, despite just waking up from anaesthesia and having undergone a strenuous c-section, smiles warmly at the man and nods. “We’ll keep an eye on what our kid grows up to be. No point of forcing it into anything it doesn’t want, right?”
Emmerson smiles at her, and nods. “Quite right.”
He squeezes Gwen’s arm gently. “We’ll let you get some rest. I’ll arrange for you to see your baby as soon as possible.”
“Thank you, Doctor,” Gwen says, eyes already closing again.
Arthur takes the hint and follows Emmerson out of the room.
So, his emergency case turned out to be Gwen Smith – the Gwen Smith that Merlin has been quietly jealous of ever since it was rumoured that she and Arthur were a couple. Only now it turns out that they’re not, that it’s all been a fabricated story by the press that no one bothered to deny.
It also turns out that Arthur is a loyal friend because he interrupted an important movie shoot in Southern Italy to come back and be here for his friends in case something went wrong, or to share their joy.
Merlin doesn’t want to be impressed but dammit, he can’t help it. He’s glad that his original impression of Arthur isn’t entirely wrong. That his co-stars were right when they kept going on and on about what a good guy Arthur is, and that he’ll do anything for a friend or even just anyone who’s a decent human being.
“So,” Arthur says, interrupting Merlin’s thoughts. Merlin realises he’s been lingering outside Gwen’s room for no reason at all, and he quickly clears his throat.
“Yes, Mr Pendragon?” he asks, remembering his manners and his professionalism before he can call Arthur by his first name.
“It’s Arthur,” Arthur says, and Merlin’s heart beats a little faster at the small gesture. “And I just wanted to ask if I could maybe buy you a coffee or dinner or a neck pillow as thanks for taking care of my best friend and her kid?”
Merlin smiles warmly. “Dinner sounds good to me, Arthur. Thanks.”
Arthur single again?
Arthur Pendragon (28), known for being a private person, tweeted to congratulate his friend Lancelot DuLac (31) on his child’s birth. Pendragon later replied to a tweet from a fan to explain that “Lance and Gwen have been happily married for a while, and hoping for a child. I’m very happy for them.” Check out Arthur’s tweets here. Was there never anything between him and Gwen? Click here for more pictures, and decide for yourself!
Arthur’s new paramour!
Guess what! Only a few months after the split from Gwen (27) (read the whole story here), Arthur Pendragon (28) has a new sweetheart – and this time he’s gone in the other direction! Merlin Emmerson (29) is tall, skinny, white – and male! A doctor at the King’s College Hospital in London, Emmerson performed surgery on Gwen DuLac (née Smith) when her baby was born. That’s where he and Arthur first met. Last night, Emmerson was Arthur’s date to a red carpet event, and they seemed cosy. Let’s hope this relationship lasts longer than the last one. Click here for more pictures of Merthur!