Fic: Fragment of Light (Arthur/Gwen)
Title: Fragment of Light
Fandom: Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen, Merlin, Elyan, mentions of Lancelot/Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance, angst
Word Count: ~3,800
Warnings: Some sexuality and light language; includes spoilers for 4x09-4x11 based on episode synopses, the teasers, and behind the scene photos.
Summary: Spec fic for 4x11 (includes some spec for 4x09 and 4x10, and I'm almost positive that Saturday will render most of the 4x09 bits AU ... which is why I'm posting this now XD). When Arthur banishes Gwen from Camelot, he must come to grips with his mistake and let go of the life he destroyed. Meanwhile, Gwen struggles with the loss of not only her future but her confidence in the future of Camelot as well.
Disclaimer: I hold no claim of ownership over Merlin.
A/N: In my head this is a two-parter, although I think this first part can stand alone if you don't mind open endings. I do hope to write the second half, but I don't know if I'll have enough time before 4x11. I went back and forth on whether I should post this technically unfinished, but I knew if I didn't post what I had before 4x09 aired I never would. This is unbeta'd and much rougher than I'd prefer. Also, I had planned for part II to focus more on Gwen, so this part is lacking a bit in that respect (at least in terms of analyzing her mindset and how she comes to certain decisions). Sorry about that. =\ This piece was my attempt to sort out my feelings concerning what I consider to be Saturday's worst case scenario, especially my feelings regarding Arthur. Title taken from A Fine Frenzy's "Ashes and Wine." Dedicating the happy bit of this fic to rubberglue. Happy birthday, bb!
“They want your head, Guinevere.” Gwen remains silent, her gaze trained to the side. “What am I supposed to do now?” This catches her attention, and she finally looks at him. Disbelief flickers across her face.
“You are king, Arthur. You do what is right.”
“The court is accusing you of treason! They will accept nothing less than your banishment from the city. I don’t have a choice!”
“You have every choice!” She’s breathing heavily and the muscles in her neck are strained, and Arthur knows it took everything in Gwen’s power not to yell those last words. “You once told me that things would be different. Is this what you call different, Arthur?” She sweeps out her arm. “If you wish to banish me, then I will obey as befits a subject of her king. But do not hide behind the laws and traditions that you were determined to do away with when you asked me to be your queen.”
He sees the hurt in her eyes and he wants to cry, “What did I do that could compare to what you have done to me?” He looks at her, her chest heaving and her hair in disarray, and his mind is consumed by thoughts of her lips pressed against Lancelot’s, her arms urging him closer. Enchantment. It was an enchantment, he reminds himself, but the enchantment only enhanced her feelings; it couldn’t create the betrayal all on its own. Heartbroken and ashamed, he feels the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders. He still loves her - was that ever in question? - and if he can see past his anger he can admit that she loves him as well. But how can he call himself a fair king if he overlooks her actions? Guinevere is wrong. His only choice is her execution or exile, and to call that a choice is almost more laughable than the knowledge that only a few days ago they were celebrating their betrothal with all of Camelot.
“Guinevere, I find you guilty of treason and banish you from the city. To return is on …” Arthur stops and swallows, trying to find the strength to continue his judgment. “Is on pain of death. You have until the end of the week to leave.”
She stares at him, her mouth open in shock, and Arthur realizes with a sinking stomach that never in a thousand years did she expect him to see through his threat. Everything is already a mess, but knowing that … it makes everything infinitely worse.
“As you wish, sire.” She accompanies her words with a deep curtsy. She rises, turns, and says nothing more.
She reaches the end of the hall.
She says nothing of the king he must become …
She opens the door.
… nothing of the kingdom he must guide into a golden age …
She doesn’t look back.
… nothing of the faith she has in him.
For the briefest of moments he sees her shoulders shake. And then the door closes behind her.
His heart stops.
“What did I do that could compare to what you have done to me?” Suddenly he knows. And somehow, her betrayal feels like nothing in the face of his.
*****
It’s three hours later when the last of Arthur’s anger subsides and he realizes the true extent of what he’s done.
Is this what you call different? she had demanded of him. Her words refuse to leave him, and the longer he thinks them over, the harder it is to ignore the guilt clawing at his stomach.
He had spent years fighting for their right to be together - overturning every tradition and turning his back on every marriage treaty that came his way. Yet when his uncle thrust the laws of Camelot beneath his nose.... He couldn’t just bend the laws to his pleasure, but when the laws were unjust … when they were wrong….
He had been blinded - by her mistake; by his anger and grief. The council had seen an opportunity to take advantage of him - to rid the kingdom of the threat of a peasant queen - and, instead of listening to Guinevere and allowing her the chance that she had given him time and time again, he had let them.
It’s another four hours before he works up the nerve (overcomes his pride) and grabs his cloak, praying that Guinevere will be more forgiving than he was - more forgiving than he can possibly deserve.
*****
Arthur pounds on the door, not caring that he has likely awoken everyone in the lower town by now. “Guinevere, please, open up!” When no reply comes, he lets out a groan and leans his head against the wood. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have....” He trails off. How can he even begin to explain everything he shouldn’t have done? “I … I know I have no right to be here after today. But I need to talk to you … to explain … to.... Please, Gwen. I’m begging you.”
“She’s left, sire.” Arthur jumps at the nervous voice and finds a young woman staring up at him.
“What?” His throat feels like sandpaper. And then, stupidly, "Who?"
“Gwen, sire. She left a few hours ago. Sh-she was carrying … she was carrying a-a lot. I don’t think she means to come back.”
Arthur stares at the woman, not really seeing. How is this possible? He had expected to have to beg Gwen's forgiveness, had even entertained the idea that she’d slam the door in his face and refuse to speak to him for weeks, even months. But never, never, had he expected for her to leave after only a few hours.
He recalls the emptiness in her eyes. She had no reason to delay, even for a moment, he thinks bitterly to himself.
“Thank you,” he manages to croak. The woman gives a short curtsy before running off. Arthur turns back to the door and turns the knob.
He enters the house, feeling as if he is in a haze, and even with only the moon serving as his light he knows within moments that the woman was telling the truth. The furniture’s still there, as are the flowers she always uses (used) to decorate the room. But her chest of clothes is open, with nothing left in them save worn pieces of clothing that wouldn’t last a traveler more than a day.
There is nothing - nothing but the things Gwen could not carry or of which she had no need.
Including a silver ring.
*****
Arthur doesn’t know how Merlin found him; he’s too tired to ask. In a fit of madness he had decided to go after her. Never mind that it had been the middle of the night. Never mind that he had no idea where she was headed. He had grabbed the first horse in the stable and ridden until adrenaline had given way to pain and he had stumbled off his horse, sobs racking his frame. But even when the tears had ceased he couldn’t find it in him to return. So he had remained here, staring into the distance, as if Guinevere would appear in the horizon.
Merlin kneels beside him but doesn’t reach out to offer a comforting hand. “Sire?”
Arthur nods, not needing to hear whatever speech he’s sure Merlin’s prepared to convince him to abandon this foolish plan. He stands up, mounts his horse, and heads for Camelot ... but not before a final glance back. He’s not sure what he expects to see. A flash of curls? A lavender skirt?
But he sees nothing.
He had made sure of that.
*****
It is two weeks after discovering this small inn when Gwen hears a knock. Her heart pounds, and for a moment - just the tiniest moment - she thinks (fears? hopes? it frightens her that she no longer knows) that it is Arthur. But when she opens the door, she finds not the king but her brother standing in the hall.
“Elyan!” she gasps, and she pulls him to her before she awakens and realizes all of this is just a cruel dream. “How did you find me?”
“Merlin.” Gwen lets out a small laugh, suddenly grateful that she had given in and written him a week ago.
(Grateful that she has yet to find the strength to continue her journey.)
As she ushers him in, Elyan explains what happened. Or he tries. He doesn’t seem quite willing to give her more than a vague picture (there had been magic - a shrine of some kind? He rushes through that part - and a mistake, such a terrible, terrible mistake….), but one thing he makes clear: Arthur has stripped him of his knighthood, and with nothing else left (for who would come to the forge of a shamed former knight?), he decided to join her.
When she gets over her shock, she hugs him once more and whispers she’s sorry. She knows what serving as a Knight of Camelot had meant to him. It was why she had left before he could discover her banishment and insist on coming with her.
He mumbles his thanks and then pushes back to look at her. “And you? Are you all right? Merlin tried to keep quiet what happened, but you know the court....”
Despite the bitter taste in her mouth, Gwen finds a way to nod. “As well as could be expected.”
“You should have said something before you left,” Elyan says, his voice slightly accusing. “I was fighting for him without even knowing....” He shakes his head in disgust.
Gwen doesn’t know what to say to that, so instead she just nods and offers a simple “I know. I’m sorry.”
He reaches for her hand and squeezes it. “It’s all right. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
She decides it’s best not to tell him that with his news, her heart has broken all over again.
*****
He’s taken to spending his days in his chambers.
The court believes their king to be grieving, and while he cannot think of Gwen without a small panic seizing him, there’s another reason for his absence.
Strewn about the table are the various statutes detailing the laws of Camelot - copies, of course. Geoffrey of Monmouth would likely strangle him if he had defiled the originals as he had these.
“When will you start hearing petitions again, sire?” Merlin asks as he brings Arthur his evening meal. Some of the coldness is beginning to fade from his manservant's demeanor, but Merlin still seems to insist on a distance between them.
(“How could you?” Merlin had cried, bursting into his chambers. “She loves you, Arthur. You know that as well as I.”
“She committed treason!”
“You kill an innocent man and bring war to Camelot, and you dare call what she did treason?”)
Arthur accepts the plate and answers, “I am almost done combing through these.”
“And then?” Merlin stares at him expectantly. “Surely a review of the kingdom’s laws does not demand so many comments.”
“And then.... And then I turn Camelot into the kingdom I-” Arthur stops as he realizes what he was about to say. The kingdom I promised Guinevere it would become. He clears his throat. “The kingdom it’s meant to be,” he finishes.
Merlin scrutinizes him for a good minute, and for a moment Arthur fears his friend will laugh scornfully at his feeble proclamation. But then Merlin’s gaze falls on the top parchment - Whoever commits high treason against the crown ... - the official words almost hidden by Arthur’s writing, and his face softens.
“This won’t bring her back,” Merlin reminds him, not unkindly.
Arthur swallows and looks down. “I know. But I have remained stagnant for too long. I said there would be change, and where better to begin than the laws that guide our land?” From the corner of his eye, Arthur swears he sees Merlin swell with pride. He wants to smile, but a thought nags his brain: would Gwen have been proud, too? Or would even this not have been enough to restore the light to her eyes?
He clenches his fingers and wonders when he will let go of the life he single-handedly destroyed.
*****
“When will we leave?” Elyan asks over their third supper together.
Gwen stills and finds she has lost her appetite. Elyan clears his throat and she finally answers, “Soon.”
But days go by and they remain at this inn on the outskirts of Camelot. Gwen helps out in the kitchen in exchange for lodging, food, and a few coins, and Elyan goes off with the innkeeper’s husband to chop wood or hunt. Each night Gwen promises herself that tomorrow, tomorrow they will leave for Ealdor (Hunith had been kind when Gwen met her all of those years ago, and truth be told, she could think of nowhere else to go - there’s John and Mary, but they would ask questions that she cannot bear to answer). But when morning comes she cannot bring herself to ready the horses.
Crossing that border … somehow, it feels like defeat.
*****
She smiles at him from the floor as she dances with one of her knights. Arthur recognizes the gesture for what it is - an invitation. And though he knows he should accept - that at this point it is his duty to accept - his mind thinks only of Guinevere.
Arthur claims exhaustion and begs leave of the court. He doesn’t miss the disappointment that flashes across Mithian’s face and the faces of everyone else in attendance. “She would make a good queen,” he had heard the nobility whisper after only a day, and it had taken everything in him not to storm out. They had never given Gwen half the chance they had given Princess Mithian. They had leapt at the chance to discredit Guinevere, and he....
He shakes his head of the thought.
After this past week, Arthur doesn’t doubt that they were right about the visiting princess, but the idea of giving his mother’s crown to someone other than Guinevere makes his stomach turn.
Camelot must come first … but in this he is not yet ready to forsake all his selfish desires.
Arthur finally arrives at his chambers and has to steady himself when faced with the silence. Gwen had made a habit of waiting for him in the evenings - her smile wide, her embrace warm, and her counsel wise.
He chances a glance at his night table. Slowly, hesitantly, he walks over and opens the top drawer, revealing a silver ring set upon a scrap of purple fabric.
“Arthur?”
“Hmm?”
He held her close, his fingers drawing lazy circles on her hip as her own traced the scars on his chest. He shivered when the metal of her ring brushed against his skin, the sensation new but very welcomed.
“When I’m … when I’m queen,” Gwen said, and her face flushed, a delightful combination of embarrassment and pleasure, “I’d like my own quarters. For carrying out my duties, I mean,” she added quickly. “I’d still wish to share a bed with you.”
“I should hope so!” Arthur exclaimed, pretending to be offended. Gwen swatted at him good-naturedly. Arthur laughed and shifted until he was above her. “So if not to share your bed with another, what did you intend to do in these quarters of yours? Organize a coup and depose me?”
“Only if you proved an unfit ruler,” she replied, staring up at him innocently. Her hands trailed slowly down his chest.
“And if I did?” he asked. “You would do away with me so easily? Do not you love me?”
“Oh, greatly, my lord,” Gwen said, mimicking his affected tone, “but I’m afraid my love for you will be no match for my duty to our people.” Arthur’s heart fluttered at her words. Our people. Our.
“I see.” Arthur pressed his lips gently against hers, but before Gwen could deepen the kiss he moved to the column of her throat. “I suppose … I must ensure … that I never … give you cause … to doubt me then,” he said between his ministrations.
“I suppose - oh! - I suppose you shouldn’t,” she said breathlessly. Distracted by her skin, Arthur forgot their conversation and moved to her collarbone, starting a path down her body.
“I was serious, Arthur,” she said after a few moments.
“Hmm?” His mouth vibrated against her skin.
“About … about the quarters.” She tangled her fingers into his hair as he continued his journey.
“Mhmm.”
“I- ahhh- Arthur.” She pulled gently on his hair, urging him to end the distraction. Regretfully he pushed himself up, only to find his betrothed biting her lip and staring at him anxiously.
“Gwen?”
“It’s just.… “ Gwen licked her lips. “When I said I wanted quarters to see out my duties … I meant duties like yours.”
“I know.”
“Laws and … and treaties, and making sure there’s enough grain for the year.”
“Gwen, I know.”
“I know it isn’t common,” she continued, rushing through her words. “I know in the past a queen never had a say in more than feasts and entertainment.”
“Gwen, don’t be-”
“But I want more than that!” her voice grew stronger, and Arthur could barely hide his smile at her passion. “I can’t just stand by. If I have the power to help the people, I want to use it.”
“Guinevere!” This time Gwen heard him. Arthur took advantage of her silence to lace his fingers through hers, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. “I know. God, Gwen, of course. Why do you think I fell in love with you?” Gwen let out a small breath, her eyes barely holding back tears. She reached up and brushed away the hair that had fallen into his eyes, and then moved her hand to cup his face. “I love you, too, you know,” she whispered. “So very-”
Drunken voices echo through the hall and Arthur returns to the present. His gaze falls on the ring once again, and he slams the drawer shut.
Not for the first time, he wonders what he has done.
*****
“Are you all right?”
Gwen glances up from her untouched meal to find Elyan’s worried gaze upon her. It’s his tenth meal at the inn’s tavern and Gwen’s 24th. It’s growing more difficult to come up with excuses not to move on - she knows Elyan began to suspect long ago that it has very little to do with wanting to save up money as she so claimed.
Gwen smiles softly and says, “Of course,” before returning her attention elsewhere - anywhere. Anything to make sure she doesn’t give herself away.
For several minutes there’s nothing but the drone of the other guests, but then Elyan’s nervous voice says, “I heard you last night. When you thought I was asleep. It … it wasn’t the first time, either.”
Gwen’s grip tightens around her fork. She stares for so long that her vision threatens to go black.
“Gwen....”
“I left the only home I’ve ever known. It’s been difficult” is all she says, still refusing to meet his gaze. She doesn’t need to see his face to know that her brother is frowning. “Is that all?” he presses.
She finally looks up. “Please, Elyan,” she begs. She isn’t ready. Not yet. She’s not sure if she will ever be. She lost too much that afternoon in the council chambers.
Elyan nods, giving in. Gwen lets out a sigh of relief, but it is short lived.
“King Arthur is too busy trying to find himself a queen,” she hears from the table next to theirs. The speaker’s talking in hushed tones, but he isn’t nearly quiet enough. Gwen reaches out and stills Elyan’s hand, which had just reached for his last bite of food. When he gives her a disgruntled look, she flashes her eyes in the direction of the men to their side. “With that princess keeping him … occupied … he won’t notice the invasion until it’s too late. It’s a wise investment. The witch will reward all those who join her before she claims her throne, and make no mistake, she will succeed. If the king isn’t busy courting, then it’s only because he’s mourning the loss of his whore.” Gwen feels Elyan’s hand twitch beneath hers and she tightens her grip - now is not the time to defend her honor. She listens as they discuss the details of the invasion, and it isn’t until they finish and Elyan places his other hand on top of hers that Gwen realizes hers is drenched in cold sweat. He nods slowly before leading her upstairs until they’re safely in their room with the door locked shut.
Limbs shaking, Gwen settles down on the bed. “An army is headed for Camelot,” she lets out. The words seem to crawl beneath her skin. “Arthur … he’ll be caught unawares, and in the state he’s in now....” Gwen had seen the look on his face as she left him standing alone. It had been his decision that had broken them, but she knew better than to pretend she was the only one who had lost something that day.
“An army is slow, Gwen. From here it’s only a two days’ ride to Camelot.”
Slowly, hope replaces her fear. “If we leave now- ”
“There’s no ‘we,’ Gwen.” Elyan’s voice is harsh. “If you return, it’s on pain of death, remember?”
Gwen shakes her head. “No, Arthur would never do that.”
“Are you willing to bet your life on that?”
“Yes!” she cries out, and it’s not only Elyan who’s shocked by her conviction.
Gwen’s protestation hangs in the air between them until Elyan narrows his eyes and demands, “Even if he didn’t arrest you or, god forbid, execute you, do you really want to return after what he did?”
Gwen looks down at her hands. She had left Camelot convinced that she had deceived herself once again, only this time she had invested not just her hopes but her heart as well - all in this one man - only to have her entire world shatter in a single day. Yet when she heard of the gathering army.... She can claim that it is nothing more than concern for the subjects of Camelot … but that doesn’t demand her presence.
Gwen closes her eyes. On that day in the council chambers, she had never imagined that he would banish her. Why, then, is she so certain that he wouldn’t surprise her once more?
After everything you’ve been through, how much faith could you possibly have left? a voice challenges. Another voice, hesitant yet overpowering, answers: Enough.
She looks back at Elyan. “We’ll set out at first light.”
Fandom: Merlin
Characters/Pairings: Arthur/Gwen, Merlin, Elyan, mentions of Lancelot/Gwen
Rating: PG-13
Genre: Romance, angst
Word Count: ~3,800
Warnings: Some sexuality and light language; includes spoilers for 4x09-4x11 based on episode synopses, the teasers, and behind the scene photos.
Summary: Spec fic for 4x11 (includes some spec for 4x09 and 4x10, and I'm almost positive that Saturday will render most of the 4x09 bits AU ... which is why I'm posting this now XD). When Arthur banishes Gwen from Camelot, he must come to grips with his mistake and let go of the life he destroyed. Meanwhile, Gwen struggles with the loss of not only her future but her confidence in the future of Camelot as well.
Disclaimer: I hold no claim of ownership over Merlin.
A/N: In my head this is a two-parter, although I think this first part can stand alone if you don't mind open endings. I do hope to write the second half, but I don't know if I'll have enough time before 4x11. I went back and forth on whether I should post this technically unfinished, but I knew if I didn't post what I had before 4x09 aired I never would. This is unbeta'd and much rougher than I'd prefer. Also, I had planned for part II to focus more on Gwen, so this part is lacking a bit in that respect (at least in terms of analyzing her mindset and how she comes to certain decisions). Sorry about that. =\ This piece was my attempt to sort out my feelings concerning what I consider to be Saturday's worst case scenario, especially my feelings regarding Arthur. Title taken from A Fine Frenzy's "Ashes and Wine." Dedicating the happy bit of this fic to rubberglue. Happy birthday, bb!
“They want your head, Guinevere.” Gwen remains silent, her gaze trained to the side. “What am I supposed to do now?” This catches her attention, and she finally looks at him. Disbelief flickers across her face.
“You are king, Arthur. You do what is right.”
“The court is accusing you of treason! They will accept nothing less than your banishment from the city. I don’t have a choice!”
“You have every choice!” She’s breathing heavily and the muscles in her neck are strained, and Arthur knows it took everything in Gwen’s power not to yell those last words. “You once told me that things would be different. Is this what you call different, Arthur?” She sweeps out her arm. “If you wish to banish me, then I will obey as befits a subject of her king. But do not hide behind the laws and traditions that you were determined to do away with when you asked me to be your queen.”
He sees the hurt in her eyes and he wants to cry, “What did I do that could compare to what you have done to me?” He looks at her, her chest heaving and her hair in disarray, and his mind is consumed by thoughts of her lips pressed against Lancelot’s, her arms urging him closer. Enchantment. It was an enchantment, he reminds himself, but the enchantment only enhanced her feelings; it couldn’t create the betrayal all on its own. Heartbroken and ashamed, he feels the weight of the kingdom on his shoulders. He still loves her - was that ever in question? - and if he can see past his anger he can admit that she loves him as well. But how can he call himself a fair king if he overlooks her actions? Guinevere is wrong. His only choice is her execution or exile, and to call that a choice is almost more laughable than the knowledge that only a few days ago they were celebrating their betrothal with all of Camelot.
“Guinevere, I find you guilty of treason and banish you from the city. To return is on …” Arthur stops and swallows, trying to find the strength to continue his judgment. “Is on pain of death. You have until the end of the week to leave.”
She stares at him, her mouth open in shock, and Arthur realizes with a sinking stomach that never in a thousand years did she expect him to see through his threat. Everything is already a mess, but knowing that … it makes everything infinitely worse.
“As you wish, sire.” She accompanies her words with a deep curtsy. She rises, turns, and says nothing more.
She reaches the end of the hall.
She says nothing of the king he must become …
She opens the door.
… nothing of the kingdom he must guide into a golden age …
She doesn’t look back.
… nothing of the faith she has in him.
For the briefest of moments he sees her shoulders shake. And then the door closes behind her.
His heart stops.
“What did I do that could compare to what you have done to me?” Suddenly he knows. And somehow, her betrayal feels like nothing in the face of his.
*****
It’s three hours later when the last of Arthur’s anger subsides and he realizes the true extent of what he’s done.
Is this what you call different? she had demanded of him. Her words refuse to leave him, and the longer he thinks them over, the harder it is to ignore the guilt clawing at his stomach.
He had spent years fighting for their right to be together - overturning every tradition and turning his back on every marriage treaty that came his way. Yet when his uncle thrust the laws of Camelot beneath his nose.... He couldn’t just bend the laws to his pleasure, but when the laws were unjust … when they were wrong….
He had been blinded - by her mistake; by his anger and grief. The council had seen an opportunity to take advantage of him - to rid the kingdom of the threat of a peasant queen - and, instead of listening to Guinevere and allowing her the chance that she had given him time and time again, he had let them.
It’s another four hours before he works up the nerve (overcomes his pride) and grabs his cloak, praying that Guinevere will be more forgiving than he was - more forgiving than he can possibly deserve.
*****
Arthur pounds on the door, not caring that he has likely awoken everyone in the lower town by now. “Guinevere, please, open up!” When no reply comes, he lets out a groan and leans his head against the wood. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have....” He trails off. How can he even begin to explain everything he shouldn’t have done? “I … I know I have no right to be here after today. But I need to talk to you … to explain … to.... Please, Gwen. I’m begging you.”
“She’s left, sire.” Arthur jumps at the nervous voice and finds a young woman staring up at him.
“What?” His throat feels like sandpaper. And then, stupidly, "Who?"
“Gwen, sire. She left a few hours ago. Sh-she was carrying … she was carrying a-a lot. I don’t think she means to come back.”
Arthur stares at the woman, not really seeing. How is this possible? He had expected to have to beg Gwen's forgiveness, had even entertained the idea that she’d slam the door in his face and refuse to speak to him for weeks, even months. But never, never, had he expected for her to leave after only a few hours.
He recalls the emptiness in her eyes. She had no reason to delay, even for a moment, he thinks bitterly to himself.
“Thank you,” he manages to croak. The woman gives a short curtsy before running off. Arthur turns back to the door and turns the knob.
He enters the house, feeling as if he is in a haze, and even with only the moon serving as his light he knows within moments that the woman was telling the truth. The furniture’s still there, as are the flowers she always uses (used) to decorate the room. But her chest of clothes is open, with nothing left in them save worn pieces of clothing that wouldn’t last a traveler more than a day.
There is nothing - nothing but the things Gwen could not carry or of which she had no need.
Including a silver ring.
*****
Arthur doesn’t know how Merlin found him; he’s too tired to ask. In a fit of madness he had decided to go after her. Never mind that it had been the middle of the night. Never mind that he had no idea where she was headed. He had grabbed the first horse in the stable and ridden until adrenaline had given way to pain and he had stumbled off his horse, sobs racking his frame. But even when the tears had ceased he couldn’t find it in him to return. So he had remained here, staring into the distance, as if Guinevere would appear in the horizon.
Merlin kneels beside him but doesn’t reach out to offer a comforting hand. “Sire?”
Arthur nods, not needing to hear whatever speech he’s sure Merlin’s prepared to convince him to abandon this foolish plan. He stands up, mounts his horse, and heads for Camelot ... but not before a final glance back. He’s not sure what he expects to see. A flash of curls? A lavender skirt?
But he sees nothing.
He had made sure of that.
*****
It is two weeks after discovering this small inn when Gwen hears a knock. Her heart pounds, and for a moment - just the tiniest moment - she thinks (fears? hopes? it frightens her that she no longer knows) that it is Arthur. But when she opens the door, she finds not the king but her brother standing in the hall.
“Elyan!” she gasps, and she pulls him to her before she awakens and realizes all of this is just a cruel dream. “How did you find me?”
“Merlin.” Gwen lets out a small laugh, suddenly grateful that she had given in and written him a week ago.
(Grateful that she has yet to find the strength to continue her journey.)
As she ushers him in, Elyan explains what happened. Or he tries. He doesn’t seem quite willing to give her more than a vague picture (there had been magic - a shrine of some kind? He rushes through that part - and a mistake, such a terrible, terrible mistake….), but one thing he makes clear: Arthur has stripped him of his knighthood, and with nothing else left (for who would come to the forge of a shamed former knight?), he decided to join her.
When she gets over her shock, she hugs him once more and whispers she’s sorry. She knows what serving as a Knight of Camelot had meant to him. It was why she had left before he could discover her banishment and insist on coming with her.
He mumbles his thanks and then pushes back to look at her. “And you? Are you all right? Merlin tried to keep quiet what happened, but you know the court....”
Despite the bitter taste in her mouth, Gwen finds a way to nod. “As well as could be expected.”
“You should have said something before you left,” Elyan says, his voice slightly accusing. “I was fighting for him without even knowing....” He shakes his head in disgust.
Gwen doesn’t know what to say to that, so instead she just nods and offers a simple “I know. I’m sorry.”
He reaches for her hand and squeezes it. “It’s all right. I’m just glad you’re okay.”
She decides it’s best not to tell him that with his news, her heart has broken all over again.
*****
He’s taken to spending his days in his chambers.
The court believes their king to be grieving, and while he cannot think of Gwen without a small panic seizing him, there’s another reason for his absence.
Strewn about the table are the various statutes detailing the laws of Camelot - copies, of course. Geoffrey of Monmouth would likely strangle him if he had defiled the originals as he had these.
“When will you start hearing petitions again, sire?” Merlin asks as he brings Arthur his evening meal. Some of the coldness is beginning to fade from his manservant's demeanor, but Merlin still seems to insist on a distance between them.
(“How could you?” Merlin had cried, bursting into his chambers. “She loves you, Arthur. You know that as well as I.”
“She committed treason!”
“You kill an innocent man and bring war to Camelot, and you dare call what she did treason?”)
Arthur accepts the plate and answers, “I am almost done combing through these.”
“And then?” Merlin stares at him expectantly. “Surely a review of the kingdom’s laws does not demand so many comments.”
“And then.... And then I turn Camelot into the kingdom I-” Arthur stops as he realizes what he was about to say. The kingdom I promised Guinevere it would become. He clears his throat. “The kingdom it’s meant to be,” he finishes.
Merlin scrutinizes him for a good minute, and for a moment Arthur fears his friend will laugh scornfully at his feeble proclamation. But then Merlin’s gaze falls on the top parchment - Whoever commits high treason against the crown ... - the official words almost hidden by Arthur’s writing, and his face softens.
“This won’t bring her back,” Merlin reminds him, not unkindly.
Arthur swallows and looks down. “I know. But I have remained stagnant for too long. I said there would be change, and where better to begin than the laws that guide our land?” From the corner of his eye, Arthur swears he sees Merlin swell with pride. He wants to smile, but a thought nags his brain: would Gwen have been proud, too? Or would even this not have been enough to restore the light to her eyes?
He clenches his fingers and wonders when he will let go of the life he single-handedly destroyed.
*****
“When will we leave?” Elyan asks over their third supper together.
Gwen stills and finds she has lost her appetite. Elyan clears his throat and she finally answers, “Soon.”
But days go by and they remain at this inn on the outskirts of Camelot. Gwen helps out in the kitchen in exchange for lodging, food, and a few coins, and Elyan goes off with the innkeeper’s husband to chop wood or hunt. Each night Gwen promises herself that tomorrow, tomorrow they will leave for Ealdor (Hunith had been kind when Gwen met her all of those years ago, and truth be told, she could think of nowhere else to go - there’s John and Mary, but they would ask questions that she cannot bear to answer). But when morning comes she cannot bring herself to ready the horses.
Crossing that border … somehow, it feels like defeat.
*****
She smiles at him from the floor as she dances with one of her knights. Arthur recognizes the gesture for what it is - an invitation. And though he knows he should accept - that at this point it is his duty to accept - his mind thinks only of Guinevere.
Arthur claims exhaustion and begs leave of the court. He doesn’t miss the disappointment that flashes across Mithian’s face and the faces of everyone else in attendance. “She would make a good queen,” he had heard the nobility whisper after only a day, and it had taken everything in him not to storm out. They had never given Gwen half the chance they had given Princess Mithian. They had leapt at the chance to discredit Guinevere, and he....
He shakes his head of the thought.
After this past week, Arthur doesn’t doubt that they were right about the visiting princess, but the idea of giving his mother’s crown to someone other than Guinevere makes his stomach turn.
Camelot must come first … but in this he is not yet ready to forsake all his selfish desires.
Arthur finally arrives at his chambers and has to steady himself when faced with the silence. Gwen had made a habit of waiting for him in the evenings - her smile wide, her embrace warm, and her counsel wise.
He chances a glance at his night table. Slowly, hesitantly, he walks over and opens the top drawer, revealing a silver ring set upon a scrap of purple fabric.
“Arthur?”
“Hmm?”
He held her close, his fingers drawing lazy circles on her hip as her own traced the scars on his chest. He shivered when the metal of her ring brushed against his skin, the sensation new but very welcomed.
“When I’m … when I’m queen,” Gwen said, and her face flushed, a delightful combination of embarrassment and pleasure, “I’d like my own quarters. For carrying out my duties, I mean,” she added quickly. “I’d still wish to share a bed with you.”
“I should hope so!” Arthur exclaimed, pretending to be offended. Gwen swatted at him good-naturedly. Arthur laughed and shifted until he was above her. “So if not to share your bed with another, what did you intend to do in these quarters of yours? Organize a coup and depose me?”
“Only if you proved an unfit ruler,” she replied, staring up at him innocently. Her hands trailed slowly down his chest.
“And if I did?” he asked. “You would do away with me so easily? Do not you love me?”
“Oh, greatly, my lord,” Gwen said, mimicking his affected tone, “but I’m afraid my love for you will be no match for my duty to our people.” Arthur’s heart fluttered at her words. Our people. Our.
“I see.” Arthur pressed his lips gently against hers, but before Gwen could deepen the kiss he moved to the column of her throat. “I suppose … I must ensure … that I never … give you cause … to doubt me then,” he said between his ministrations.
“I suppose - oh! - I suppose you shouldn’t,” she said breathlessly. Distracted by her skin, Arthur forgot their conversation and moved to her collarbone, starting a path down her body.
“I was serious, Arthur,” she said after a few moments.
“Hmm?” His mouth vibrated against her skin.
“About … about the quarters.” She tangled her fingers into his hair as he continued his journey.
“Mhmm.”
“I- ahhh- Arthur.” She pulled gently on his hair, urging him to end the distraction. Regretfully he pushed himself up, only to find his betrothed biting her lip and staring at him anxiously.
“Gwen?”
“It’s just.… “ Gwen licked her lips. “When I said I wanted quarters to see out my duties … I meant duties like yours.”
“I know.”
“Laws and … and treaties, and making sure there’s enough grain for the year.”
“Gwen, I know.”
“I know it isn’t common,” she continued, rushing through her words. “I know in the past a queen never had a say in more than feasts and entertainment.”
“Gwen, don’t be-”
“But I want more than that!” her voice grew stronger, and Arthur could barely hide his smile at her passion. “I can’t just stand by. If I have the power to help the people, I want to use it.”
“Guinevere!” This time Gwen heard him. Arthur took advantage of her silence to lace his fingers through hers, his thumb stroking the back of her hand. “I know. God, Gwen, of course. Why do you think I fell in love with you?” Gwen let out a small breath, her eyes barely holding back tears. She reached up and brushed away the hair that had fallen into his eyes, and then moved her hand to cup his face. “I love you, too, you know,” she whispered. “So very-”
Drunken voices echo through the hall and Arthur returns to the present. His gaze falls on the ring once again, and he slams the drawer shut.
Not for the first time, he wonders what he has done.
*****
“Are you all right?”
Gwen glances up from her untouched meal to find Elyan’s worried gaze upon her. It’s his tenth meal at the inn’s tavern and Gwen’s 24th. It’s growing more difficult to come up with excuses not to move on - she knows Elyan began to suspect long ago that it has very little to do with wanting to save up money as she so claimed.
Gwen smiles softly and says, “Of course,” before returning her attention elsewhere - anywhere. Anything to make sure she doesn’t give herself away.
For several minutes there’s nothing but the drone of the other guests, but then Elyan’s nervous voice says, “I heard you last night. When you thought I was asleep. It … it wasn’t the first time, either.”
Gwen’s grip tightens around her fork. She stares for so long that her vision threatens to go black.
“Gwen....”
“I left the only home I’ve ever known. It’s been difficult” is all she says, still refusing to meet his gaze. She doesn’t need to see his face to know that her brother is frowning. “Is that all?” he presses.
She finally looks up. “Please, Elyan,” she begs. She isn’t ready. Not yet. She’s not sure if she will ever be. She lost too much that afternoon in the council chambers.
Elyan nods, giving in. Gwen lets out a sigh of relief, but it is short lived.
“King Arthur is too busy trying to find himself a queen,” she hears from the table next to theirs. The speaker’s talking in hushed tones, but he isn’t nearly quiet enough. Gwen reaches out and stills Elyan’s hand, which had just reached for his last bite of food. When he gives her a disgruntled look, she flashes her eyes in the direction of the men to their side. “With that princess keeping him … occupied … he won’t notice the invasion until it’s too late. It’s a wise investment. The witch will reward all those who join her before she claims her throne, and make no mistake, she will succeed. If the king isn’t busy courting, then it’s only because he’s mourning the loss of his whore.” Gwen feels Elyan’s hand twitch beneath hers and she tightens her grip - now is not the time to defend her honor. She listens as they discuss the details of the invasion, and it isn’t until they finish and Elyan places his other hand on top of hers that Gwen realizes hers is drenched in cold sweat. He nods slowly before leading her upstairs until they’re safely in their room with the door locked shut.
Limbs shaking, Gwen settles down on the bed. “An army is headed for Camelot,” she lets out. The words seem to crawl beneath her skin. “Arthur … he’ll be caught unawares, and in the state he’s in now....” Gwen had seen the look on his face as she left him standing alone. It had been his decision that had broken them, but she knew better than to pretend she was the only one who had lost something that day.
“An army is slow, Gwen. From here it’s only a two days’ ride to Camelot.”
Slowly, hope replaces her fear. “If we leave now- ”
“There’s no ‘we,’ Gwen.” Elyan’s voice is harsh. “If you return, it’s on pain of death, remember?”
Gwen shakes her head. “No, Arthur would never do that.”
“Are you willing to bet your life on that?”
“Yes!” she cries out, and it’s not only Elyan who’s shocked by her conviction.
Gwen’s protestation hangs in the air between them until Elyan narrows his eyes and demands, “Even if he didn’t arrest you or, god forbid, execute you, do you really want to return after what he did?”
Gwen looks down at her hands. She had left Camelot convinced that she had deceived herself once again, only this time she had invested not just her hopes but her heart as well - all in this one man - only to have her entire world shatter in a single day. Yet when she heard of the gathering army.... She can claim that it is nothing more than concern for the subjects of Camelot … but that doesn’t demand her presence.
Gwen closes her eyes. On that day in the council chambers, she had never imagined that he would banish her. Why, then, is she so certain that he wouldn’t surprise her once more?
After everything you’ve been through, how much faith could you possibly have left? a voice challenges. Another voice, hesitant yet overpowering, answers: Enough.
She looks back at Elyan. “We’ll set out at first light.”