FIC: "The City Which is to Come" (Merlin BBC)
Title: The City Which is to Come
Author: lotusflower85
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Guinevere, Merlin, Knights, Gaius, Arthur (in flashback) (Arthur/Gwen)
Spoilers: 5x13
Summary: Gwen changes the world by day, and misses Arthur by night.
A/N: Follow on from Against the Dying of the Light - this will end up being a series of vignettes dealing with Gwen’s rule, Merlin’s role as chief advisor and court sorcerer, and the baby!Pendragon.
For we have not here an abiding city, but we seek after the city which is to come - Hebrews 13:14
Guinevere took a deep breath to compose herself before entering the Great Hall. The knights of Camelot were already at their places at the Round Table, and they all rose as she entered, some even giving her respectful nods or slight bows as she walked to her place. It had been several weeks since the announcement of Arthur’s death, and there had been a period of mourning throughout the kingdom. Gwen had kept to her chambers as much as possible in her own private grief, but finally decided that it was time to call her council together.
But she hesitated at the chair where Arthur had once sat, and rested her hand lightly on the back of it. It would feel like usurpation to sit in it, she decided, an insult to her husband’s memory to take his seat without an appropriate passing of time. She did not yet feel like a monarch, like she was worthy to take Arthur’s place. She felt far more comfortable to think of herself as a steward or regent, occupying the throne until her child was born and a Pendragon heir would inherit such an honour.
So Gwen took her usual place to the immediate left of Arthur’s chair and gestured for the knights to be seated. She felt Gaius’ gaze upon her from a few places down and when she turned her head she wasn’t sure if it was pity or disappointment in his eyes. But then she saw Leon nod at her reassuringly and knew that in his opinion at least, she had made the right choice. These were Arthur’s knights, his chosen brethren and she needed their loyalty and support - and for that Arthur’s memory must be honoured on public as it was honoured in her heart.
“Thank you all,” she addressed them with a confidence that surprised herself. “This has been a difficult time for us all, and I will do my best to carry on in my husband’s stead. Of course I will need your help to do this and it is my greatest hope that together, we can continue to protect his great kingdom and her people as Arthur would have wanted.”
It was an impassioned plea for their cooperation as much as a greeting, and Gwen was relieved to see that her words appeared to be well received. They moved onto council matters where Gwen felt more comfortable, and Sir Lionel gave reports of the retreating Saxons, who now had been completely driven from the kingdom, Sir Owain discussed the mood of the populace and thankfully advised that there appeared no opposition to Guinevere taking the throne, and Percival confirmed the news of Morgana’s death and the retreat of the druids back into hiding.
During the reports, however, Gwen couldn’t forget that there were several empty places at the Round Table.
“We need new knights,” she decreed, raising the next point of business. “Sir Leon, I trust that you can see to this,” she addressed him.
Leon nodded. “Of course my Lady,” he agreed, as she knew he would, given that they had discussed the agenda for the meeting beforehand.
“But make sure they are tested to the standard they always have been,” she cautioned. “It will not do to elevate to knighthood men who are not yet ready, simply to swell our ranks.”
Leon nodded again. “I know of several men who distinguished themselves at Camlann,” he told her. “But I will ensure they are put through the appropriate tests and training.”
“Thank you.” Gwen took a deep breath, not looking forward to her next item, because it was something that would alter Camelot far more than the inclusion of commonly-born knights or the introduction of the Round Table.
“I have made a decision,” she told them, looking around the table at each one of her knights and advisors. Some, like Gaius, Leon and Percival, were her dear friends. Others she knew quite well but was not close to, and a few she knew by name only. “One that will change everything, and because of this I first seek your advice and approval.”
Leon looked at her quizzically - she had not discussed the matter with him first, as she had the previous matters the council had deliberated on. Gwen looked to Gaius for reassurance, and he gave her a slight smile and a nod - at least she could count on his support. But Gwen knew that she would need the cooperation of all of the knights if she was to succeed.
“You can send him in now,” Gwen addressed the guard at the door, who nodded and disappeared into the hallway. Gwen took another deep breath, turned back to the table and then started the speech she had spent all night practicing.
“As all of you remember, we were suffering heavy losses at Camlann, and that victory was far from certain. And that in what seemed to be our darkest hour, a miracle occurred.” She spoke slowly, and shifted her gaze from knight to knight, intent that they should head everything she had to say. “Lightening rained down from the sky,” she continued, “a force which seemed to hit only our enemy, and was so precise that not a man of Camelot was lost to it. The white dragon which Morgana had summoned was driven away, and the day was won. This was the work of a sorcerer - some of you may have seen him, on the ridge, casting the lightening down, defeating Morgana and repelling the dragon with a single word.”
“But why, you must have thought, as I did,” she pressed on, ignoring the puzzled or suspicious faces surrounding her. “Why would a sorcerer fight for Camelot, against his magical kin? Why would he help a kingdom in which such acts of sorcery were outlawed? And I tell you the reason is that this sorcerer loves Camelot as much as you or I, and that he is loyal to Arthur, to myself, and to you, with his very soul”
Gwen glanced at the entrance to the hall and saw that the guard had reappeared and nodded to her. “Which is why I have invited him to join us,” she gestured to the doorway.
The reaction of the knights was immediate, as gasps, murmurs and cries of objection filled her ears. A few knights even rose from their seats, hands on the hilts of their swords. Everyone went silent, however, when Merlin appeared with a smile and a wave.
“Hello,” he greeted them genially, and Gwen wished she’d advised him to be a bit more serious. Strangely enough, she had simply assumed that such behaviour would be automatic, but it seemed he’d reverted back to that easy demeanour which seemed immune to criticism. Perhaps it was a conscious choice on his part, to disarm the knights and demonstrate that despite the fine new clothes and outing as a sorcerer, he was still the same Merlin.
“Merlin?” Percival managed to be the first person to recover from the shock.
“The King’s manservant?” Sir Bedivere, one of the older knights who’d once served under Uther, asked with obvious befuddlement. “Is he going to fetch the sorcerer?”
Gwen supressed a smile. “Merlin is the sorcerer.”
“My lady, is this an amusement of some kind?” Leon addressed her quietly.
“This is no joke,” she said loud enough for everyone to hear. “I only discovered this myself recently, but Merlin has magic, and has used it ever since he arrived in Camelot. Not to subvert, or beguile, or cause nuisance,” she added quickly. “But to serve the King and protect the people of Camelot. He has saved all of our lives many times over. Not just at Camlann.”
Sir Ector snorted. “I find that hard to believe - that sorcerer was an old man!”
“Ah, yes, well,” Merlin began. “Long story, about crystals and Morgana and this magic-draining slug thing -”
“Merlin,” Gwen interrupted him gently, reminding him of their agreement that he would keep explanations simple, at least initially.
“Right, yes,” Merlin gave a nervous laugh. “Aging spell, then.”
“My Lady,” Sir Ector turned to her disdainfully, “are you honestly expecting us to believe that this boy is a powerful sorcerer? And even if he is, his intentions cannot be honourable, he has surely bewitched you!”
Gwen bristled at the accusation, although she should have expected such a reaction. Very few of the knights knew of her enchantment under Morgana, so Ector could not have known how such words would cut her.
“Merlin perhaps you could provide us with a demonstration of your…abilities?” Leon asked, and Gwen shot him a grateful smile for the deflection as well as what was a reasonable suggestion.
“My pleasure,” Merlin replied. He started whispering what only could be an incantation, and then his eyes glowed orange for a split-second as he raised an outstretched palm towards them. The fire from the candles around the room leapt to the centre of the Round Table and began to dance as beautiful music filled the air. It was captivating and yet utterly benign magic, designed to fascinate but not threaten. Merlin lowered his voice, the chant trailing off as the small lights went back to their respective homes.
“I have not bewitched anyone,” Merlin told them clearly, radiating a confidence few of them had ever seen in him. “I have only ever used my abilities to serve Camelot, and have done since the day I arrived here.”
Seeing that many of the knights were too shocked to say anything in reply, Gwen pressed on. “It is my wish that Merlin represent Camelot in an official capacity,” she told them. “That he take a seat at this table.”
“You would allow a sorcerer to sit beside the knights of Camelot?” Sir Bedivere spluttered.
“A sorcerer who has used his magic for the benefit of Camelot and will continue to do so, yes.” She took a deep breath. “And speaking of which, it is also my desire that we end the ban on magic.”
“My lady, this is going too far,” Sir Bedivere cried. “You are too young to remember the times before the Great Purge, if we allow magic back into Camelot it will be our ruin.”
“You are right, Sir Bedivere,” she addressed him calmly. “I do not remember that time. Because this is our time now. Things have changed, and I cannot accept that magic is inherently evil. It therefore makes no sense to ban it outright.”
“If I may,” Merlin spoke up, and Gwen nodded in assent. “I was born with magic,” he continued. “It is part of me and while I have spent many years hiding those abilities, I cannot deny them. To say to someone with magic that they cannot use it is like saying to someone they cannot use their strength,” he addressed Percival, “or their sword ,” he addressed Leon, “or their intellect,” he smiled at Gwen.
“Dark magic would still be outlawed,” Gwen put in. “Anyone using magic to harm others, or to enchant without a person’s consent, or to perform any magical act in breach of the common laws would still be punished. What I…we are suggesting is that those with the ability should not be persecuted for the use of magic which is harmless.”
“No magic is harmless,” Sir Ector said harshly.
“We have just seen magic which is harmless,” Leon addressed him evenly, and Gwen could see that his words were chosen carefully. “Merlin has proved that he is a sorcerer with magic that has hurt no one. If he wanted to, he could kill us all here where we sit and take the throne of Camelot, but he has not. He fought against Morgana, and perhaps saved all of our lives.”
“I can vouch for Merlin,” Gaius, finally, spoke up. “He has great power, but instead of using it for personal gain, he chose to live as a servant for years to best protect the kingdom. He is the greatest friend and warrior Camelot has known.”
“There, you see,” Leon addressed Bedivere and Ector. “Would you dare doubt Gaius’ loyalty and judgement?”
“I suggest that it is the ban on magic which is harmful to the kingdom,” Gwen added, grateful for Leon’s support. “Arthur firmly believed that the Druids were a peaceful people, and I agree. Yet the ban on magic turned some of them against Camelot, made them vulnerable to Morgana’s war-mongering. If we are truly to unite this land, then we must be inclusive of all good, honest people because of, not in spite of the gifts they were born with.”
Percival, you had been silent up until that point, stood to draw their attention. “I have known Merlin many years,” he began. “He loved Arthur as much as the rest of us did, if not more. I have no doubt he is as loyal to Camelot and to the Queen as anyone could be.” He turned back to Gwen and nodded solemnly. “You have my support, my Lady, on both counts.”
Leon rose and nodded towards her as well. “And mine.”
Gaius rose next, followed one by one by the other knights. Ector and Bedivere shared a look.
“I think this is a mistake, my Lady,” Ector said, “but I have sworn an oath to you and will honour the decision of the council.”
Gwen fought back tears of relief and smiled broadly at them all. “I hope soon you will see that this is not a mistake, but appreciate your support in any case” she addressed Ector, and then turned her attention to Merlin. “Well, Merlin,” she told him, “if you will take your seat.”
Merlin looked as if he was about to burst from pride and happiness, but managed to amble his way to take the seat to the immediate right of what had once been Arthur’s chair.
“I suggest we reconvene tomorrow to discuss how to best to announce the change in law,” Gwen told them when they had all retaken their seats. “I know today’s session has been long, but I beg your indulgence for one final announcement.” She glanced over at Merlin, and he nodded encouragingly. “Some of you may already suspect, if the rumour mill is still active, but let me confirm it,” she said quickly, wanting to moment to be over quickly. “I am with child.”
There was silence once again, and Gwen wasn’t sure how to judge the reaction of her knights. Some had indeed clearly suspected, others seemed shocked and others, confused. She rested her hand over her belly protectively.
“My Lady, this is wonderful news,” Leon congratulated her after a pause.
“An heir for Camelot is indeed a blessing at such a time,” agreed Sir Ector, still eyeing Merlin suspiciously.
“Forgive me, may I ask how long?” Sir Owain asked, a question that no doubt many of them were asking themselves.
“Not long,” she confirmed, and saw a few of the knights exchange knowing looks. Her unorthodox presence at the camp in Camlann had been widely known. “And for that reason I would appreciate your discretion. I am only telling you now because I felt it right you should hear it from me.”
“My Lady, we should announce it immediately,” Bedivere disagreed. “The news will boost morale among the people.”
Gwen shook her head. “No. All going well, the kingdom will have an heir in eight months, but there is no telling if there may be…complications,” she added. “I ask you to keep this confidence as you would any other.”
“We will, rest assured my queen,” Leon said, placing emphasis on her title and giving the other knights a clear look that he would ensure they did so.
**********
At night, she missed Arthur. During the day there was so much to keep her mind occupied, and in the evenings she often shared a meal with Merlin and Gaius, who kept her spirits high. But at night she was alone in the large, silent bedchamber she’d once shared with her husband, where she most keenly felt his absence.
It had been difficult for her to adapt to sharing a bed and quarters with another, after the quiet comforts of her small home in the lower town. She discovered that the time when he’d stayed there had not been an isolated incident in terms of his snoring, and in the first few weeks of their marriage she found it difficult to sleep. She had been exhausted after the battle for Camelot, with their wedding and her coronation all happening in such a short space of time, and of course the increased intimacy of sharing the marriage bed. And yet, every time she thought she might drift off, she would hear the rough sound of his snore and find peace unwilling to come to her.
Of course, he’d noticed eventually.
“You don’t have to stay here,” he told her, one night after, in desperation, she had been forced to wake him up. “Protocol dictates that the Queen has her own chambers.”
She propped her chin on his chest and looked up at him fondly. “I would rather stay with you and not sleep than sleep and be without you,” she told him, for she did not want to be isolated in an unfamiliar room without him. “I have been alone too long.”
He smiled down at her, his thumb gently drawing small circles over the small of her back. “As have I.”
“Have you?” She asked somewhat impudently. “Surely a crown prince of Camelot never had to worry about having an empty bed,” she teased. It was pure curiosity and a little bit of playfulness that made her say it - after all, he had known when he had lain with her on their wedding night that she had been a maid, but she had no such indications of his experience. And she wanted to know everything about her new husband.
“Are you asking, my love,” he questioned with a lightness that matched her own, “how many women I have shared a bed with before you?”
“Yes,” Gwen answered with a reassuring smile. “I am no innocent, I know that there were others,” she told him. “I am just curious.”
Arthur smirked. “It is somewhat of an indelicate thing to ask.”
“Luckily I am lowly-born and not accustomed to courtly manners,” she prodded him in the chest playfully.
His laughed softly, and then bit his lip in concentration, stroking her hair gently. “There were a few.”
This troubled her more than she had expected, although she had known that such an answer was likely. She even expected the answer to have been ‘many’ but whether he was sparing her feelings or speaking the truth, the thought of him being with other women, as he had been with her in the wonderful nights since their marriage, was difficult for her, and she immediately regretted asking.
“But none since you,” Arthur added, sensing her discomfort. “Not since the day I first kissed you.” His hand cupped her jaw, his thumb drawing a gentle line along her cheekbone. “I told you once that I had never loved another - that is true.”
She was touched by his openness - as she had been that day in her home. But then she had not returned the sentiment, too frightened by the implications and the perceived impossibilities of their relationship at that point. She’d been troubled by the way kissing him in the tent had made her feel, knowing that she’d been falling ever so much deeper in love with him and approaching the point of no return.
“I have only ever loved you, Arthur,” she told him softly, her heart full at being able to express the emotions she’d kept hidden then.
“Really?” There was doubt and even a bit of hope in his voice. “Not even…” He seemingly could not bring himself to speak the name, but it was obvious his thoughts had fixed on Lancelot and her past indiscretion.
Gwen rubbed his chest gently and looked up into his eyes. “I cared for him very much, I respected his goodness,” she began, wanting to be honest. “I mourned him deeply, not only because I considered him a friend, but because he had died protecting you as I had asked. But I do not believe I ever loved him - not like I love you.”
“Then, why…?”
They had never spoken of it, for he had forgiven her by taking her as his wife and queen, and yet she still wondered whether her slip would always cast a shadow over their marriage, if she would be forever atoning for it. She sat up and turned away from him, drawing her knees up to her chin and clutching them protectively against her chest.
“I cannot give you a better answer now than I did then,” Gwen told him with distress at recalling that awful day when she had banished her from his sight. “During the year that he was here in Camelot, I felt nothing but friendship for him. And even when he returned, I was pleased and relieved to see him, but I was looking forward to our wedding.” She sighed softly, turning over the events in her mind as she had done many times in the past months, searching for an answer to her actions. “And then he came to see me…he said he only wanted to wish me well, to give me a gift.”
“A gift?” Arthur questioned her, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “What was it?”
Gwen wished she’d never started the conversation, but knew it was too late to change the subject. “A bracelet - from the people who had saved him. He said it would bring me luck”
“I have never heard of such a charm, not among those people,” he told her, and she turned back to see his mouth in a firm line, deep in thought. “Was it only after he gave you the bracelet that you were…drawn to him?” he used her own words, the ones she’d spoken in flimsy explanation on the second-worst day of her life.
Gwen shifted slightly, uncomfortably. She rose from the bed, unwilling to be so close from him and recall the details of her betrayal.
“Guinevere, please tell me.” There was a note of pleading in his tone. “I need to hear it.”
She sighed and turned back to him, wrapping her arms around the bedpost and leaning against it for support, keeping the distance between them.
“During the tournament, it was as if I could not think of anything else,” she told him shamefully. “I found myself in his tent, and I didn’t know how I got there. When I realised, I left, but I could not stop myself from agreeing to meet with him later.”
“Do you think…” Arthur took a deep breath, and Gwen could see that he was having difficulty. “Do you think you may have been influenced by magic?”
It had not occurred to her - she had always blamed her own weakness, her unresolved feelings of guilt and affection for Lancelot which had blinded her to what she was doing.
“All I can say is that it felt like a daze,” Gwen told him, thinking back to her state of mind. “Like a dream…and he was the only thing that seemed real.” She looked up at Arthur again with shame and repentance, worried that he would shut her out again, that such words would be too painful for him to hear.
But Arthur seemed to ponder them for several moments, and his expression was thoughtful rather than angry. “What happened to the bracelet?” he asked.
Gwen thought about that for a few moments, remembering the despair and anger at that moment - the heaviness of the cold metal like a shackle on her wrist. “I threw it away - in the cell.” There was silence for several moment, and Gwen found herself hold her breath with trepidation.
“Come here,” Arthur said eventually, reaching out his arms, and she went to him gratefully, crawling back into the bed beside him and into his embrace. “Tell me what this bracelet looked like,” he requested, rubbing her back comfortingly. “And then try and get some sleep - I’ll stay awake so you can.”
She complied, and then in arms feel into a relieved, blessedly uninterrupted sleep.
Three days later, she was in their quarters, staring out the window into the courtyard. Arthur entered the room, and she heard him approach, but he kept his distance and she did not turn to face him. She feared that his quest had not been successful, and that her culpability in betraying him could not be denied.
“We found the bracelet,” he said eventually, without betraying any emotion. “Apparently a prisoner took it from the dungeons and sold it, but we tracked it down.”
She turned around, and saw Arthur with the bracelet in his hand. He placed it on the table and she went over to it. Her hand hovered over it but she was afraid to pick it up. “That’s it,” she confirmed, feeling sick to her stomach. “And?”
His expression was grim. “I had Gaius examine it,” he told her. “He suspects it was enchanted with a powerful infatuation spell.”
Gwen let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She had never been so relieved to hear news of magic in her life. “So…”
“So Lancelot - or the thing impersonating Lancelot, as Gaius tell me - he gave you the bracelet to enchant you - to compromise you.” Arthur’s expression was one of barely-concealed anger, his mouth a firm line. “What you did was not of your own free will.”
Gwen let out a small sob of relief, and she pressed a hand against her mouth to contain it. She had not betrayed Arthur willingly as she had thought - it was magic to blame, not her own character.
“If that thing weren’t already dead…” Arthur continued, but Gwen shook her head and took his face in her hands, one thumb stroking his cheek in an entreaty.
“Do not be angry,” she told him earnestly. “There has been too much hurt caused because of this, we should not let it hurt us further.”
Arthur looked back at her and his rage melted into one of regret and contrition. He slowly fell to his knees before her and clutched at the material of her skirts around her waist. “Can you forgive me?” he asked desperately. “You were innocent and I banished you.” He pressed his cheek against her belly and held her tightly. Shocked by his display of emotion, Gwen placed her hands on his head in a comforting gesture and stroked his hair reassuringly.
“I should have suspected that it was sorcery,” he continued with anguish. “I should have known you would never betray me like that, but I wouldn’t listen to you, to anyone. I was so angry at you, at myself for allowing myself to love you - for fearing that if I let you stay I wouldn’t be able to keep away from you, and the entire kingdom would see my weakness.”
She sank down to the floor with him and pressed two fingers to his lips. “What did you do that I did not believe I deserved?” she comforted him. “How could you suspect foul play when I myself did not?”
“All I could think about was the look you gave Lancelot when we rescued you from Hengist’s men,” Arthur confessed, clearly tormented. “I always feared that I had won you by default.”
Gwen’s hands moved to his shoulders, and she played absentmindedly with the neck of his shirt. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” she told him softly, and it pained her to see him troubled. It had been so long ago, she hadn’t realised that Arthur had harboured doubts about the strength of her love for him. And yet, if she recalled that time in Hengist’s capture, the jealous look Arthur had given them when Lancelot had taken her hand, his hurtful lie that he’d only come because of Morgana, his avoidance of her for many weeks after the fact - she probably should have realised.
“I admit at that time I was confused.” She raised her head again to look him in the eye - he had finally been honest with her about his doubts, and knew he deserved the same in return. “I had known Lancelot only very briefly when he’d first come to Camelot,” she explained. “So when he appeared again, when I was lost and alone and thought death would soon come for me, he seemed everything I needed. And I knew that despite the…moment that you and I had shared, we could never be together. You told me that plainly enough, and I did not disagree.”
“Did he tell you he loved you?” Arthur asked, although it was clear it was costing him to do so. “Did he tell you what I should of but was too afraid to admit?”
“He told me…that he would save me,” she responded, reluctant but keeping to her vow to be honest. “That he would…die before he let any harm come to me,” she continued haltingly. “And I…kissed him and told him that my feelings for him would never fade.”
Arthur suddenly looked ill and glanced away. There was silence for several moments, and Gwen was unsure whether to continue. “Keep going,” he told her eventually, although he continued to look towards the wall rather than at her. “Tell me.”
“He was sacrificing his life for mine,” she tried to justify herself. “It seemed like the right thing to say to comfort him in that, but I cannot deny that in that moment I felt deeply for him. But it was fleeting, Arthur,” she continued passionately, cupping his face him her hands and gently turning him back towards her. “They were the feelings of a girl towards someone who was good and brave, and who had saved her just like in all the stories.” Gwen felt her eyes fill with tears. “But the love I have for you is deep, and abiding, and so much stronger than anything else I have ever felt,” she went on, her voice cracking slightly. “All it took was time for me to realise that. There was no choice to be made - it was always you, I just didn’t know it yet.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, pleased when he returned it fervour, his arms embracing her tightly as he pulled her body against his, heedless of the cold stone floor they were still kneeling on. Then he buried his head in her shoulder, fingers tangling in her hair and she cradled his head, stroking the back of his neck.
“I should never have doubted you, Guinevere,” he mumbled against her shoulder.
She smiled and ran her fingers through his soft blonde hair. “As long as you don’t doubt me now.”
He lifted his head to meet her gaze again, and she was struck by the love and trust in his eyes. Whatever doubts either of them had harboured following their reunion had dissipated, and Gwen had not thought it possible, but she loved him more than ever.
He gave her no verbal response, but his passionate kiss was all the answer she needed.
Gwen wiped away a tear at the memory, and hugged a pillow close to her chest. The memory was potent, but it could not fill the silence of the room, or empty space in the bed beside her. Nor did they help ease her into slumber, for the room was too quiet and her loneliness too heavy.
Once, she’d hated his snoring - now, it seemed, she could not sleep without it.
***********
That same sense of malaise hung over Gwen for several days. There were endless meetings at the Round Table with her council and for hours they discussed the logistics of legalising magic - how it should be announced, what exactly they were legalising, to draw a line between light magic and dark and what the punishments would be. They were making progress, but the long days and often sleepless nights were taking their toll on Gwen.
Her only comfort was in the evenings, when she would share a meal with Merlin and Gaius in her quarters. It made her smile to see Merlin fidget at the table, so unused to being served and Gwen was reminded of her own first days as queen, uncomfortable sitting at the table rather than standing against the wall.
“You almost seem like you miss being a manservant,” she teased him after she’d dismissed the servants so they could talk privately.
Merlin laughed and shrugged. “No,” he told her. “But it was easier, sometimes,” he admitted. “I didn’t have to be the one answering all the questions then.”
The council session had been gruelling, with Sir Ector and Sir Bedivere especially giving Merlin a hard time and demanding explanations from him. Gwen sympathised, for she had also gone from quiet confidant who had given Arthur advice to the person who the others looked to for leadership.
“It does have its perks, though,” Merlin continued more cheerily, tucking in to his chicken leg with gusto.
“Yes, it is rather nice to have quarters to myself again,” Gaius spoke up warmly. “Peace and quiet at last.”
Gwen could not supress a smile and Merlin reacted with mock offence. “You get peace and quiet?” he joked. “After ten years, I no longer have to block out your snoring!”
That sobered Gwen slightly, and her mind once again dwelled on Arthur and the thought that he should be at the table, sharing the meal and joking with them.
“Gwen, are you alright?” Gaius lay a comforting hand on her arm..
“I’m fine,” she forced a smile, but even to her own ears she was unconvincing. She looked down at her untouched dinner, and then at the empty chair at the end of the table none of them would dare sit in. “What do you think Avalon is like?” she asked, turning back to them. “Do you think Arthur can…see us?”
Gaius patted her arm gently. “The mysteries of the spirit worlds are revealed only to those who enter them, and Avalon is the most sacred of secret of them all,” he told her. “But there are always windows between the worlds, and so their inhabitants are all connected with us still, in some way.”
“I have been to the gates of Avalon,” Merlin imparted with an unusually solemn expression. “There are ways to contact those on the other side - we could try.”
Gwen felt a flutter of hope at the thought of, perhaps, seeing Arthur again. They had said their goodbyes at Camlann, but she would give anything to see him one last time. And yet…she knew that she would always want to see him one last time, that she would not be able to stop herself from drifting towards him in death and as a result she may lose herself in life. And that was no way to run a kingdom, it would not be fair the people she was duty-bound to protect. She would long for him always, but knew that she must find her solace in memory only. And, perhaps, in the child she was carrying.
“No,” she told them, and shook her head, wiping a tear that had escaped onto her cheek. “I can’t.”
“I think that is wise, Gwen,” Gaius smiled at her comfortingly. “And for what it is worth, I do believe Arthur is watching over us.”
“He is,” Merlin added with confidence. “I know he is.”
Reassured, Gwen took both of their hands in silent thanks. They were her family, as they always had been, but Gwen felt closer to them both than ever before. She knew that together, they would build the world Arthur had dreamed of, a kingdom of justice and valour that would be a beacon for the generations to come; a world fit for her child to be raised in.
Author: lotusflower85
Fandom: Merlin (BBC)
Rating: PG-13
Characters/Pairings: Guinevere, Merlin, Knights, Gaius, Arthur (in flashback) (Arthur/Gwen)
Spoilers: 5x13
Summary: Gwen changes the world by day, and misses Arthur by night.
A/N: Follow on from Against the Dying of the Light - this will end up being a series of vignettes dealing with Gwen’s rule, Merlin’s role as chief advisor and court sorcerer, and the baby!Pendragon.
For we have not here an abiding city, but we seek after the city which is to come - Hebrews 13:14
Guinevere took a deep breath to compose herself before entering the Great Hall. The knights of Camelot were already at their places at the Round Table, and they all rose as she entered, some even giving her respectful nods or slight bows as she walked to her place. It had been several weeks since the announcement of Arthur’s death, and there had been a period of mourning throughout the kingdom. Gwen had kept to her chambers as much as possible in her own private grief, but finally decided that it was time to call her council together.
But she hesitated at the chair where Arthur had once sat, and rested her hand lightly on the back of it. It would feel like usurpation to sit in it, she decided, an insult to her husband’s memory to take his seat without an appropriate passing of time. She did not yet feel like a monarch, like she was worthy to take Arthur’s place. She felt far more comfortable to think of herself as a steward or regent, occupying the throne until her child was born and a Pendragon heir would inherit such an honour.
So Gwen took her usual place to the immediate left of Arthur’s chair and gestured for the knights to be seated. She felt Gaius’ gaze upon her from a few places down and when she turned her head she wasn’t sure if it was pity or disappointment in his eyes. But then she saw Leon nod at her reassuringly and knew that in his opinion at least, she had made the right choice. These were Arthur’s knights, his chosen brethren and she needed their loyalty and support - and for that Arthur’s memory must be honoured on public as it was honoured in her heart.
“Thank you all,” she addressed them with a confidence that surprised herself. “This has been a difficult time for us all, and I will do my best to carry on in my husband’s stead. Of course I will need your help to do this and it is my greatest hope that together, we can continue to protect his great kingdom and her people as Arthur would have wanted.”
It was an impassioned plea for their cooperation as much as a greeting, and Gwen was relieved to see that her words appeared to be well received. They moved onto council matters where Gwen felt more comfortable, and Sir Lionel gave reports of the retreating Saxons, who now had been completely driven from the kingdom, Sir Owain discussed the mood of the populace and thankfully advised that there appeared no opposition to Guinevere taking the throne, and Percival confirmed the news of Morgana’s death and the retreat of the druids back into hiding.
During the reports, however, Gwen couldn’t forget that there were several empty places at the Round Table.
“We need new knights,” she decreed, raising the next point of business. “Sir Leon, I trust that you can see to this,” she addressed him.
Leon nodded. “Of course my Lady,” he agreed, as she knew he would, given that they had discussed the agenda for the meeting beforehand.
“But make sure they are tested to the standard they always have been,” she cautioned. “It will not do to elevate to knighthood men who are not yet ready, simply to swell our ranks.”
Leon nodded again. “I know of several men who distinguished themselves at Camlann,” he told her. “But I will ensure they are put through the appropriate tests and training.”
“Thank you.” Gwen took a deep breath, not looking forward to her next item, because it was something that would alter Camelot far more than the inclusion of commonly-born knights or the introduction of the Round Table.
“I have made a decision,” she told them, looking around the table at each one of her knights and advisors. Some, like Gaius, Leon and Percival, were her dear friends. Others she knew quite well but was not close to, and a few she knew by name only. “One that will change everything, and because of this I first seek your advice and approval.”
Leon looked at her quizzically - she had not discussed the matter with him first, as she had the previous matters the council had deliberated on. Gwen looked to Gaius for reassurance, and he gave her a slight smile and a nod - at least she could count on his support. But Gwen knew that she would need the cooperation of all of the knights if she was to succeed.
“You can send him in now,” Gwen addressed the guard at the door, who nodded and disappeared into the hallway. Gwen took another deep breath, turned back to the table and then started the speech she had spent all night practicing.
“As all of you remember, we were suffering heavy losses at Camlann, and that victory was far from certain. And that in what seemed to be our darkest hour, a miracle occurred.” She spoke slowly, and shifted her gaze from knight to knight, intent that they should head everything she had to say. “Lightening rained down from the sky,” she continued, “a force which seemed to hit only our enemy, and was so precise that not a man of Camelot was lost to it. The white dragon which Morgana had summoned was driven away, and the day was won. This was the work of a sorcerer - some of you may have seen him, on the ridge, casting the lightening down, defeating Morgana and repelling the dragon with a single word.”
“But why, you must have thought, as I did,” she pressed on, ignoring the puzzled or suspicious faces surrounding her. “Why would a sorcerer fight for Camelot, against his magical kin? Why would he help a kingdom in which such acts of sorcery were outlawed? And I tell you the reason is that this sorcerer loves Camelot as much as you or I, and that he is loyal to Arthur, to myself, and to you, with his very soul”
Gwen glanced at the entrance to the hall and saw that the guard had reappeared and nodded to her. “Which is why I have invited him to join us,” she gestured to the doorway.
The reaction of the knights was immediate, as gasps, murmurs and cries of objection filled her ears. A few knights even rose from their seats, hands on the hilts of their swords. Everyone went silent, however, when Merlin appeared with a smile and a wave.
“Hello,” he greeted them genially, and Gwen wished she’d advised him to be a bit more serious. Strangely enough, she had simply assumed that such behaviour would be automatic, but it seemed he’d reverted back to that easy demeanour which seemed immune to criticism. Perhaps it was a conscious choice on his part, to disarm the knights and demonstrate that despite the fine new clothes and outing as a sorcerer, he was still the same Merlin.
“Merlin?” Percival managed to be the first person to recover from the shock.
“The King’s manservant?” Sir Bedivere, one of the older knights who’d once served under Uther, asked with obvious befuddlement. “Is he going to fetch the sorcerer?”
Gwen supressed a smile. “Merlin is the sorcerer.”
“My lady, is this an amusement of some kind?” Leon addressed her quietly.
“This is no joke,” she said loud enough for everyone to hear. “I only discovered this myself recently, but Merlin has magic, and has used it ever since he arrived in Camelot. Not to subvert, or beguile, or cause nuisance,” she added quickly. “But to serve the King and protect the people of Camelot. He has saved all of our lives many times over. Not just at Camlann.”
Sir Ector snorted. “I find that hard to believe - that sorcerer was an old man!”
“Ah, yes, well,” Merlin began. “Long story, about crystals and Morgana and this magic-draining slug thing -”
“Merlin,” Gwen interrupted him gently, reminding him of their agreement that he would keep explanations simple, at least initially.
“Right, yes,” Merlin gave a nervous laugh. “Aging spell, then.”
“My Lady,” Sir Ector turned to her disdainfully, “are you honestly expecting us to believe that this boy is a powerful sorcerer? And even if he is, his intentions cannot be honourable, he has surely bewitched you!”
Gwen bristled at the accusation, although she should have expected such a reaction. Very few of the knights knew of her enchantment under Morgana, so Ector could not have known how such words would cut her.
“Merlin perhaps you could provide us with a demonstration of your…abilities?” Leon asked, and Gwen shot him a grateful smile for the deflection as well as what was a reasonable suggestion.
“My pleasure,” Merlin replied. He started whispering what only could be an incantation, and then his eyes glowed orange for a split-second as he raised an outstretched palm towards them. The fire from the candles around the room leapt to the centre of the Round Table and began to dance as beautiful music filled the air. It was captivating and yet utterly benign magic, designed to fascinate but not threaten. Merlin lowered his voice, the chant trailing off as the small lights went back to their respective homes.
“I have not bewitched anyone,” Merlin told them clearly, radiating a confidence few of them had ever seen in him. “I have only ever used my abilities to serve Camelot, and have done since the day I arrived here.”
Seeing that many of the knights were too shocked to say anything in reply, Gwen pressed on. “It is my wish that Merlin represent Camelot in an official capacity,” she told them. “That he take a seat at this table.”
“You would allow a sorcerer to sit beside the knights of Camelot?” Sir Bedivere spluttered.
“A sorcerer who has used his magic for the benefit of Camelot and will continue to do so, yes.” She took a deep breath. “And speaking of which, it is also my desire that we end the ban on magic.”
“My lady, this is going too far,” Sir Bedivere cried. “You are too young to remember the times before the Great Purge, if we allow magic back into Camelot it will be our ruin.”
“You are right, Sir Bedivere,” she addressed him calmly. “I do not remember that time. Because this is our time now. Things have changed, and I cannot accept that magic is inherently evil. It therefore makes no sense to ban it outright.”
“If I may,” Merlin spoke up, and Gwen nodded in assent. “I was born with magic,” he continued. “It is part of me and while I have spent many years hiding those abilities, I cannot deny them. To say to someone with magic that they cannot use it is like saying to someone they cannot use their strength,” he addressed Percival, “or their sword ,” he addressed Leon, “or their intellect,” he smiled at Gwen.
“Dark magic would still be outlawed,” Gwen put in. “Anyone using magic to harm others, or to enchant without a person’s consent, or to perform any magical act in breach of the common laws would still be punished. What I…we are suggesting is that those with the ability should not be persecuted for the use of magic which is harmless.”
“No magic is harmless,” Sir Ector said harshly.
“We have just seen magic which is harmless,” Leon addressed him evenly, and Gwen could see that his words were chosen carefully. “Merlin has proved that he is a sorcerer with magic that has hurt no one. If he wanted to, he could kill us all here where we sit and take the throne of Camelot, but he has not. He fought against Morgana, and perhaps saved all of our lives.”
“I can vouch for Merlin,” Gaius, finally, spoke up. “He has great power, but instead of using it for personal gain, he chose to live as a servant for years to best protect the kingdom. He is the greatest friend and warrior Camelot has known.”
“There, you see,” Leon addressed Bedivere and Ector. “Would you dare doubt Gaius’ loyalty and judgement?”
“I suggest that it is the ban on magic which is harmful to the kingdom,” Gwen added, grateful for Leon’s support. “Arthur firmly believed that the Druids were a peaceful people, and I agree. Yet the ban on magic turned some of them against Camelot, made them vulnerable to Morgana’s war-mongering. If we are truly to unite this land, then we must be inclusive of all good, honest people because of, not in spite of the gifts they were born with.”
Percival, you had been silent up until that point, stood to draw their attention. “I have known Merlin many years,” he began. “He loved Arthur as much as the rest of us did, if not more. I have no doubt he is as loyal to Camelot and to the Queen as anyone could be.” He turned back to Gwen and nodded solemnly. “You have my support, my Lady, on both counts.”
Leon rose and nodded towards her as well. “And mine.”
Gaius rose next, followed one by one by the other knights. Ector and Bedivere shared a look.
“I think this is a mistake, my Lady,” Ector said, “but I have sworn an oath to you and will honour the decision of the council.”
Gwen fought back tears of relief and smiled broadly at them all. “I hope soon you will see that this is not a mistake, but appreciate your support in any case” she addressed Ector, and then turned her attention to Merlin. “Well, Merlin,” she told him, “if you will take your seat.”
Merlin looked as if he was about to burst from pride and happiness, but managed to amble his way to take the seat to the immediate right of what had once been Arthur’s chair.
“I suggest we reconvene tomorrow to discuss how to best to announce the change in law,” Gwen told them when they had all retaken their seats. “I know today’s session has been long, but I beg your indulgence for one final announcement.” She glanced over at Merlin, and he nodded encouragingly. “Some of you may already suspect, if the rumour mill is still active, but let me confirm it,” she said quickly, wanting to moment to be over quickly. “I am with child.”
There was silence once again, and Gwen wasn’t sure how to judge the reaction of her knights. Some had indeed clearly suspected, others seemed shocked and others, confused. She rested her hand over her belly protectively.
“My Lady, this is wonderful news,” Leon congratulated her after a pause.
“An heir for Camelot is indeed a blessing at such a time,” agreed Sir Ector, still eyeing Merlin suspiciously.
“Forgive me, may I ask how long?” Sir Owain asked, a question that no doubt many of them were asking themselves.
“Not long,” she confirmed, and saw a few of the knights exchange knowing looks. Her unorthodox presence at the camp in Camlann had been widely known. “And for that reason I would appreciate your discretion. I am only telling you now because I felt it right you should hear it from me.”
“My Lady, we should announce it immediately,” Bedivere disagreed. “The news will boost morale among the people.”
Gwen shook her head. “No. All going well, the kingdom will have an heir in eight months, but there is no telling if there may be…complications,” she added. “I ask you to keep this confidence as you would any other.”
“We will, rest assured my queen,” Leon said, placing emphasis on her title and giving the other knights a clear look that he would ensure they did so.
**********
At night, she missed Arthur. During the day there was so much to keep her mind occupied, and in the evenings she often shared a meal with Merlin and Gaius, who kept her spirits high. But at night she was alone in the large, silent bedchamber she’d once shared with her husband, where she most keenly felt his absence.
It had been difficult for her to adapt to sharing a bed and quarters with another, after the quiet comforts of her small home in the lower town. She discovered that the time when he’d stayed there had not been an isolated incident in terms of his snoring, and in the first few weeks of their marriage she found it difficult to sleep. She had been exhausted after the battle for Camelot, with their wedding and her coronation all happening in such a short space of time, and of course the increased intimacy of sharing the marriage bed. And yet, every time she thought she might drift off, she would hear the rough sound of his snore and find peace unwilling to come to her.
Of course, he’d noticed eventually.
“You don’t have to stay here,” he told her, one night after, in desperation, she had been forced to wake him up. “Protocol dictates that the Queen has her own chambers.”
She propped her chin on his chest and looked up at him fondly. “I would rather stay with you and not sleep than sleep and be without you,” she told him, for she did not want to be isolated in an unfamiliar room without him. “I have been alone too long.”
He smiled down at her, his thumb gently drawing small circles over the small of her back. “As have I.”
“Have you?” She asked somewhat impudently. “Surely a crown prince of Camelot never had to worry about having an empty bed,” she teased. It was pure curiosity and a little bit of playfulness that made her say it - after all, he had known when he had lain with her on their wedding night that she had been a maid, but she had no such indications of his experience. And she wanted to know everything about her new husband.
“Are you asking, my love,” he questioned with a lightness that matched her own, “how many women I have shared a bed with before you?”
“Yes,” Gwen answered with a reassuring smile. “I am no innocent, I know that there were others,” she told him. “I am just curious.”
Arthur smirked. “It is somewhat of an indelicate thing to ask.”
“Luckily I am lowly-born and not accustomed to courtly manners,” she prodded him in the chest playfully.
His laughed softly, and then bit his lip in concentration, stroking her hair gently. “There were a few.”
This troubled her more than she had expected, although she had known that such an answer was likely. She even expected the answer to have been ‘many’ but whether he was sparing her feelings or speaking the truth, the thought of him being with other women, as he had been with her in the wonderful nights since their marriage, was difficult for her, and she immediately regretted asking.
“But none since you,” Arthur added, sensing her discomfort. “Not since the day I first kissed you.” His hand cupped her jaw, his thumb drawing a gentle line along her cheekbone. “I told you once that I had never loved another - that is true.”
She was touched by his openness - as she had been that day in her home. But then she had not returned the sentiment, too frightened by the implications and the perceived impossibilities of their relationship at that point. She’d been troubled by the way kissing him in the tent had made her feel, knowing that she’d been falling ever so much deeper in love with him and approaching the point of no return.
“I have only ever loved you, Arthur,” she told him softly, her heart full at being able to express the emotions she’d kept hidden then.
“Really?” There was doubt and even a bit of hope in his voice. “Not even…” He seemingly could not bring himself to speak the name, but it was obvious his thoughts had fixed on Lancelot and her past indiscretion.
Gwen rubbed his chest gently and looked up into his eyes. “I cared for him very much, I respected his goodness,” she began, wanting to be honest. “I mourned him deeply, not only because I considered him a friend, but because he had died protecting you as I had asked. But I do not believe I ever loved him - not like I love you.”
“Then, why…?”
They had never spoken of it, for he had forgiven her by taking her as his wife and queen, and yet she still wondered whether her slip would always cast a shadow over their marriage, if she would be forever atoning for it. She sat up and turned away from him, drawing her knees up to her chin and clutching them protectively against her chest.
“I cannot give you a better answer now than I did then,” Gwen told him with distress at recalling that awful day when she had banished her from his sight. “During the year that he was here in Camelot, I felt nothing but friendship for him. And even when he returned, I was pleased and relieved to see him, but I was looking forward to our wedding.” She sighed softly, turning over the events in her mind as she had done many times in the past months, searching for an answer to her actions. “And then he came to see me…he said he only wanted to wish me well, to give me a gift.”
“A gift?” Arthur questioned her, and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. “What was it?”
Gwen wished she’d never started the conversation, but knew it was too late to change the subject. “A bracelet - from the people who had saved him. He said it would bring me luck”
“I have never heard of such a charm, not among those people,” he told her, and she turned back to see his mouth in a firm line, deep in thought. “Was it only after he gave you the bracelet that you were…drawn to him?” he used her own words, the ones she’d spoken in flimsy explanation on the second-worst day of her life.
Gwen shifted slightly, uncomfortably. She rose from the bed, unwilling to be so close from him and recall the details of her betrayal.
“Guinevere, please tell me.” There was a note of pleading in his tone. “I need to hear it.”
She sighed and turned back to him, wrapping her arms around the bedpost and leaning against it for support, keeping the distance between them.
“During the tournament, it was as if I could not think of anything else,” she told him shamefully. “I found myself in his tent, and I didn’t know how I got there. When I realised, I left, but I could not stop myself from agreeing to meet with him later.”
“Do you think…” Arthur took a deep breath, and Gwen could see that he was having difficulty. “Do you think you may have been influenced by magic?”
It had not occurred to her - she had always blamed her own weakness, her unresolved feelings of guilt and affection for Lancelot which had blinded her to what she was doing.
“All I can say is that it felt like a daze,” Gwen told him, thinking back to her state of mind. “Like a dream…and he was the only thing that seemed real.” She looked up at Arthur again with shame and repentance, worried that he would shut her out again, that such words would be too painful for him to hear.
But Arthur seemed to ponder them for several moments, and his expression was thoughtful rather than angry. “What happened to the bracelet?” he asked.
Gwen thought about that for a few moments, remembering the despair and anger at that moment - the heaviness of the cold metal like a shackle on her wrist. “I threw it away - in the cell.” There was silence for several moment, and Gwen found herself hold her breath with trepidation.
“Come here,” Arthur said eventually, reaching out his arms, and she went to him gratefully, crawling back into the bed beside him and into his embrace. “Tell me what this bracelet looked like,” he requested, rubbing her back comfortingly. “And then try and get some sleep - I’ll stay awake so you can.”
She complied, and then in arms feel into a relieved, blessedly uninterrupted sleep.
Three days later, she was in their quarters, staring out the window into the courtyard. Arthur entered the room, and she heard him approach, but he kept his distance and she did not turn to face him. She feared that his quest had not been successful, and that her culpability in betraying him could not be denied.
“We found the bracelet,” he said eventually, without betraying any emotion. “Apparently a prisoner took it from the dungeons and sold it, but we tracked it down.”
She turned around, and saw Arthur with the bracelet in his hand. He placed it on the table and she went over to it. Her hand hovered over it but she was afraid to pick it up. “That’s it,” she confirmed, feeling sick to her stomach. “And?”
His expression was grim. “I had Gaius examine it,” he told her. “He suspects it was enchanted with a powerful infatuation spell.”
Gwen let out a breath she didn’t know she’d been holding. She had never been so relieved to hear news of magic in her life. “So…”
“So Lancelot - or the thing impersonating Lancelot, as Gaius tell me - he gave you the bracelet to enchant you - to compromise you.” Arthur’s expression was one of barely-concealed anger, his mouth a firm line. “What you did was not of your own free will.”
Gwen let out a small sob of relief, and she pressed a hand against her mouth to contain it. She had not betrayed Arthur willingly as she had thought - it was magic to blame, not her own character.
“If that thing weren’t already dead…” Arthur continued, but Gwen shook her head and took his face in her hands, one thumb stroking his cheek in an entreaty.
“Do not be angry,” she told him earnestly. “There has been too much hurt caused because of this, we should not let it hurt us further.”
Arthur looked back at her and his rage melted into one of regret and contrition. He slowly fell to his knees before her and clutched at the material of her skirts around her waist. “Can you forgive me?” he asked desperately. “You were innocent and I banished you.” He pressed his cheek against her belly and held her tightly. Shocked by his display of emotion, Gwen placed her hands on his head in a comforting gesture and stroked his hair reassuringly.
“I should have suspected that it was sorcery,” he continued with anguish. “I should have known you would never betray me like that, but I wouldn’t listen to you, to anyone. I was so angry at you, at myself for allowing myself to love you - for fearing that if I let you stay I wouldn’t be able to keep away from you, and the entire kingdom would see my weakness.”
She sank down to the floor with him and pressed two fingers to his lips. “What did you do that I did not believe I deserved?” she comforted him. “How could you suspect foul play when I myself did not?”
“All I could think about was the look you gave Lancelot when we rescued you from Hengist’s men,” Arthur confessed, clearly tormented. “I always feared that I had won you by default.”
Gwen’s hands moved to his shoulders, and she played absentmindedly with the neck of his shirt. “I didn’t know you felt that way,” she told him softly, and it pained her to see him troubled. It had been so long ago, she hadn’t realised that Arthur had harboured doubts about the strength of her love for him. And yet, if she recalled that time in Hengist’s capture, the jealous look Arthur had given them when Lancelot had taken her hand, his hurtful lie that he’d only come because of Morgana, his avoidance of her for many weeks after the fact - she probably should have realised.
“I admit at that time I was confused.” She raised her head again to look him in the eye - he had finally been honest with her about his doubts, and knew he deserved the same in return. “I had known Lancelot only very briefly when he’d first come to Camelot,” she explained. “So when he appeared again, when I was lost and alone and thought death would soon come for me, he seemed everything I needed. And I knew that despite the…moment that you and I had shared, we could never be together. You told me that plainly enough, and I did not disagree.”
“Did he tell you he loved you?” Arthur asked, although it was clear it was costing him to do so. “Did he tell you what I should of but was too afraid to admit?”
“He told me…that he would save me,” she responded, reluctant but keeping to her vow to be honest. “That he would…die before he let any harm come to me,” she continued haltingly. “And I…kissed him and told him that my feelings for him would never fade.”
Arthur suddenly looked ill and glanced away. There was silence for several moments, and Gwen was unsure whether to continue. “Keep going,” he told her eventually, although he continued to look towards the wall rather than at her. “Tell me.”
“He was sacrificing his life for mine,” she tried to justify herself. “It seemed like the right thing to say to comfort him in that, but I cannot deny that in that moment I felt deeply for him. But it was fleeting, Arthur,” she continued passionately, cupping his face him her hands and gently turning him back towards her. “They were the feelings of a girl towards someone who was good and brave, and who had saved her just like in all the stories.” Gwen felt her eyes fill with tears. “But the love I have for you is deep, and abiding, and so much stronger than anything else I have ever felt,” she went on, her voice cracking slightly. “All it took was time for me to realise that. There was no choice to be made - it was always you, I just didn’t know it yet.”
She leaned forward and kissed him, pleased when he returned it fervour, his arms embracing her tightly as he pulled her body against his, heedless of the cold stone floor they were still kneeling on. Then he buried his head in her shoulder, fingers tangling in her hair and she cradled his head, stroking the back of his neck.
“I should never have doubted you, Guinevere,” he mumbled against her shoulder.
She smiled and ran her fingers through his soft blonde hair. “As long as you don’t doubt me now.”
He lifted his head to meet her gaze again, and she was struck by the love and trust in his eyes. Whatever doubts either of them had harboured following their reunion had dissipated, and Gwen had not thought it possible, but she loved him more than ever.
He gave her no verbal response, but his passionate kiss was all the answer she needed.
Gwen wiped away a tear at the memory, and hugged a pillow close to her chest. The memory was potent, but it could not fill the silence of the room, or empty space in the bed beside her. Nor did they help ease her into slumber, for the room was too quiet and her loneliness too heavy.
Once, she’d hated his snoring - now, it seemed, she could not sleep without it.
***********
That same sense of malaise hung over Gwen for several days. There were endless meetings at the Round Table with her council and for hours they discussed the logistics of legalising magic - how it should be announced, what exactly they were legalising, to draw a line between light magic and dark and what the punishments would be. They were making progress, but the long days and often sleepless nights were taking their toll on Gwen.
Her only comfort was in the evenings, when she would share a meal with Merlin and Gaius in her quarters. It made her smile to see Merlin fidget at the table, so unused to being served and Gwen was reminded of her own first days as queen, uncomfortable sitting at the table rather than standing against the wall.
“You almost seem like you miss being a manservant,” she teased him after she’d dismissed the servants so they could talk privately.
Merlin laughed and shrugged. “No,” he told her. “But it was easier, sometimes,” he admitted. “I didn’t have to be the one answering all the questions then.”
The council session had been gruelling, with Sir Ector and Sir Bedivere especially giving Merlin a hard time and demanding explanations from him. Gwen sympathised, for she had also gone from quiet confidant who had given Arthur advice to the person who the others looked to for leadership.
“It does have its perks, though,” Merlin continued more cheerily, tucking in to his chicken leg with gusto.
“Yes, it is rather nice to have quarters to myself again,” Gaius spoke up warmly. “Peace and quiet at last.”
Gwen could not supress a smile and Merlin reacted with mock offence. “You get peace and quiet?” he joked. “After ten years, I no longer have to block out your snoring!”
That sobered Gwen slightly, and her mind once again dwelled on Arthur and the thought that he should be at the table, sharing the meal and joking with them.
“Gwen, are you alright?” Gaius lay a comforting hand on her arm..
“I’m fine,” she forced a smile, but even to her own ears she was unconvincing. She looked down at her untouched dinner, and then at the empty chair at the end of the table none of them would dare sit in. “What do you think Avalon is like?” she asked, turning back to them. “Do you think Arthur can…see us?”
Gaius patted her arm gently. “The mysteries of the spirit worlds are revealed only to those who enter them, and Avalon is the most sacred of secret of them all,” he told her. “But there are always windows between the worlds, and so their inhabitants are all connected with us still, in some way.”
“I have been to the gates of Avalon,” Merlin imparted with an unusually solemn expression. “There are ways to contact those on the other side - we could try.”
Gwen felt a flutter of hope at the thought of, perhaps, seeing Arthur again. They had said their goodbyes at Camlann, but she would give anything to see him one last time. And yet…she knew that she would always want to see him one last time, that she would not be able to stop herself from drifting towards him in death and as a result she may lose herself in life. And that was no way to run a kingdom, it would not be fair the people she was duty-bound to protect. She would long for him always, but knew that she must find her solace in memory only. And, perhaps, in the child she was carrying.
“No,” she told them, and shook her head, wiping a tear that had escaped onto her cheek. “I can’t.”
“I think that is wise, Gwen,” Gaius smiled at her comfortingly. “And for what it is worth, I do believe Arthur is watching over us.”
“He is,” Merlin added with confidence. “I know he is.”
Reassured, Gwen took both of their hands in silent thanks. They were her family, as they always had been, but Gwen felt closer to them both than ever before. She knew that together, they would build the world Arthur had dreamed of, a kingdom of justice and valour that would be a beacon for the generations to come; a world fit for her child to be raised in.