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She could feel the warmth of his hand as it rested, oh so gently, against her abdomen. She couldn't be certain, but Gwen thought there was a slight tremor on his fingertips. His palm didn't quite settle on her.
She wished the barrier of her gown weren't there.
'You -' he began but didn't finish. Eyes wide and maybe a bit misty, Arthur looked at her. Stared at her.
He just stood there and looked for all the world like a man fighting back tears. That was a definite lip wobble, there. And Gwen willed him not to cry, because if he cried she'd cry and then they'd both be crying and she took so much care to plan this moment so that she could remember it (and retell it) and have it be A Perfect Moment. Snot and sniffles would most definitely ruin all her planning.
He took a big, deep, noisy breath and... held it in. Then proceeded to pale a bit and this was not going according to plan. At all.
'Arthur?' she whispered. He shook his head.
'Are you sure? You've checked? You mean it? I think I need to sit down', it all came out in a single rush of air and Gwen took a moment to marvel at her ability to turn King Arthur, beloved ruler, fearsome warrior, into a tall shuddering heap of shocked paleness.
Because he was really, really pale.
Slowly she took his hands and guided him to the bed and sat them both on its edge, her thumbs rubbing steady circles on the outsides of his wrists.
'I did', she answered. 'And yes, I mean it'.
After some more silence and deep breaths from him, Gwen was beginning to worry. And fidget.
Then there was a 'Gwen'. Low and soft, like a whispered secret. And suddenly he was kissing her and she wasn't sure she ever wanted to breathe again because this was just like that first time when her heart was sure to burst from her chest and all she could think of was yes yes yes.
When he broke apart, Arthur rested his forehead against hers and, without even opening his eyes, asked her to say it again.
She did.
And there were tears rolling down her cheeks even though she'd told herself in a very stern fashion that she would not cry, this would not be a tearful moment, this would be a moment of swirling dances across the room and Arthur's tight embrace and their laughter and happiness and yet there she was, crying.
'Gwen.' He kissed her tears away, burying a hand in her hair and pressing tingles into her skin with the other one, as it slid over shoulder and down her arm until their fingers were entwined. 'Gwen. Gwen. Gwen.'
She was smiling and crying and he was still floored but so, so enthusiastic, she could feel his heart beating a desperate staccato under her fingertips as she pushed him away from her in order to remove his shirt, because what she'd planned to be a simple, joyful moment of innocent cuddling and maybe some kissing had turned into so much more.
It was now her need hold him as closely and intimately as possible, because they'd created a life together and she just felt like expanding and spreading and bursting because her body didn't seem large enough to hold all of this emotion in. So she cried and he smiled and she tugged at his shirt and he untied her gown and it was just the two of them (and their baby) with their joy.
Afterwards, while Arthur rested his head on her belly and she played with his hair, Gwen thought she would have to make up a story (with no crying and no nudity) for when she told about her Perfect Moment to her brother. And Merlin. And possibly Gwaine.
Though the wonder on Arthur's eyes, the tone of reverence on his voice when he looked up at her and said 'you're pregnant', like it just hit him, would definitely have to stay on any retelling she might do.