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Gwen woke up happy.
Granted, she was stuck in the middle of the woods with the only three men in her life that she’d kissed, going on a long journey through enemy territory. But she’d spent the last few days alone, scared, and without hope, so this situation was most definitely a step up, even if it was uncomfortable and confusing.
Except Lancelot had gone. Merlin was putting out the fire and she could see Arthur’s back standing by the tree line, doing something to his sword, but no Lancelot anywhere. When she asked, Merlin approached her like a skittish horse as he gave her Lancelot’s message. The words swam around in her head.
Some things are not meant to be…you changed him forever.
She couldn’t hold back her tears. Lancelot had been the one thing keeping her going, the one bright spot in her dangerous situation. She had opened her heart to him and had a fire lit within her in return. It had settled to rest in her breast beside the quiet light that was her love for Arthur. The flames were fading now with grief and she flinched away from the thought of them. She couldn’t think about Lancelot so she rounded on Merlin.
“And Arthur? Why is he here? What plea of Morgana’s is he quailing under?”
She could see the conflicting emotions on his face, loyalty to Arthur and friendship to her warring within him, but she did not back down. Arthur’s comment the night before had appeared cowardly and insulting to her and she’d gone to bed resolving never to speak to him again.
Merlin stepped toward her, looking around furtively as if to make sure Arthur was nowhere near, and lowered his voice.
“Gwen, Arthur came charging out here. No one could stop him. He hasn’t slept, barely ate, and pretty much afflicted me with the same restrictions. He risked both our lives in a terrible, dark, smelly venture I don’t even want to think about and he would not admit why. When he did finally condescend to open his royal mouth and tell me something, he said it…well, without hope. I can’t tell you what he said, but, Gwen, you have to know that he-”
“Merlin!” interrupted Arthur’s voice, causing both of them to jump, “shut up! We have a long walk ahead of us and unless you want to be dragged behind my horse the whole way after that, you will keep your mouth shut and get moving.”
He looked absolutely furious and Gwen shuddered for an instant before she became angry again. Yet she silently walked with them and tried to arrange her thoughts in the convenient silence. They never said a word all the way over the mountains back to the horses; even Merlin was quiet instead of rambling like he usually did. Whether that was in deference to her or fear of Arthur she didn’t know.
Gwen was angry and frustrated for a long time on that walk. Why now? Why did Arthur do this now? Right when the spark of feeling she’d had for Lancelot had burst into flame? The love she’d harbored for Arthur these long months was something she’d had to constantly bury under other feelings, but now it was fighting its way back toward the surface, its light breaking through to shine on her heart with a clarity she didn’t want to face.
She contemplated long on Merlin’s words to her. She tried to understand Arthur’s mind and his actions. She knew it was an extraordinary thing that the heir to the throne would risk his life for a mere servant girl, no matter how fond he might be of her. She pictured him defying his father, riding into danger, all for her, only to find her practically in the arms of another man. She could only imagine what the sight of him with another woman would have done to her, yet he had behaved nobly, neither acting in anger toward Lancelot nor scorning her. Now it seemed to her that his comment about Morgana being the only reason he was there was more for her sake than she realized, to put Lancelot off the scent of Arthur’s regard for her so he would not feel threatened. Apparently it had not worked and she had to deflect a stab of grief at the thought.
She was hurt that Lancelot had not even said goodbye, had done so much for her, yet then left her without a word. He was brave and good and stubborn and safe, yet he was gone and she missed him. She could not help but blame Arthur for the loss even if that was not fair.
Yet by the time they got back to the horses her heart was softened sufficiently enough to not be angry with him, but confused enough that she wished she were anywhere else but with Arthur.
There were only two horses and she wondered what they would do, not wanting to make Merlin walk all the way back, but knowing it wasn’t her decision to make. In the end Arthur made it for them all. He turned to her and extended his hand. He was looking at her for the first time since her rescue and his face was blank, but she could see the emotions he was fighting to keep out of his eyes. He was very hurt, she realized. It was an emotion she didn’t usually attribute to him, his arrogance a shield against any weapon of sentiment. But she had hurt him, she realized, her and no one else. It was a rather humbling realization.
“I would be honored if you would ride with me, Guinevere.”
He was the only one who regularly called her Guinevere and it had always made her feel special and honored. Today it made her feel like crying.
She took his hand and got on the horse. He swung up behind her and took the reins in his right hand. He held it out so that he wasn’t touching her. There was just enough room for both of them, but they were closer than she was comfortable with right then. His chainmail was cold against her back and she couldn’t help but picture the entire man behind her as being cold and unyielding to her forevermore. It was a galling thought but she still didn’t know how to bridge that gap or if she even wanted to.
They rode in silence for some time, Merlin lagging so far behind them that she knew it was on purpose and she didn’t know whether to bless or curse him for it. She wondered at Arthur not telling him to hurry up before she realized that maybe he’d rather they didn’t have an audience. She didn’t know what to think about that. Was he planning on reprimanding her or just scorning her with his silence?
“Are you all right?” he finally asked, tone formal.
“I’m fine,” she said softly. She was still upset enough to have to force herself to go on in stilted tones. “Thank you, my lord, for coming for me. It is a great honor to be so noticed.”
“Don’t- don’t,” he said sharply, before clearing his throat and continuing on in a quieter voice. “It was nothing. I needed to come because…I had to make sure that you were all right. Not to say that you owe me anything as I know that there is nothing between…but I could not bear it if anything were to happen to you, Guinevere.”
Her heart stopped for a moment and she felt awful, but she was still so unsure of where she stood with him, and what she even wanted.
“My lord, you do me a kindness,” she said, resisting the urge to turn and look at him. She wanted to see his face. She longed to unbend and speak freely, but she couldn’t with the sudden guilt weighing on her. “I don’t deserve it when you came all this way and found- we owe you our lives.”
He stiffened against her back and she flinched.
“I am sure Lancelot would have found a way out,” he said after a moment and she wanted to roll her eyes at his false modesty. He’d saved them completely and he knew it. “He is a brave and honorable man. It is no wonder you would- well, you are a free woman,” he continued. “You are free to love wherever or whomever you wish.”
“Not so, my lord,” she said, daring to point out the obvious.
She could feel him just breathing for a few minutes and knew she'd somehow broken an unspoken rule to never refer to what had passed between them.
“But in this instance you are free and you know you have made no promises to anyone else. You have done nothing wrong.”
She started to cry again and she was furious with herself for doing so but the gentleness in his voice was something she heard so rarely that it broke her heart.
His hand lifted like he wanted to comfort her, but then dropped to his side again.
“You have done me the courtesy of being honest with me,” she said, “and I wish to do the same with you.”
“You owe me nothing,” he said and that made her mad again, which was exactly what she needed.
“Do not tell me what I do or do not owe, Arthur Pendragon. I have as much a right to tell you how I feel as you do to me, no matter that I’m just a serving girl.”
He was silent again for a minute or two and she wondered if his regard for her would save her from the stocks for her remark.
“You are right and I apologize,” he said. “Please tell me whatever you wish.”
“I don’t think I do wish now,” she said.
“Guinevere,” he said in that wheedling, arrogant tone that shouldn’t be attractive and yet somehow was.
She could feel his breath, warm on her neck, and she shivered.
“Fine, just give me a minute,” she said and tried to organize her thoughts. It was a much harder task than usual. “I- When I met Lancelot there was an initial attraction between us but I never thought I would see him again. I thought on him, but not with any design. And then when you stayed with me it had a…different effect as you are probably well aware." She could almost feel him smirking behind her and longed to smack him, but she didn't think that was yet a viable option within their fragile conversation. "I knew that there was nothing that could come of it so I did not dare hope. But when I saw Lancelot again I was so terrified, Arthur, I was so alone, and I thought I was going to die.” His fingers tightened on the reins in front of her and she wished she could see his face. “And he saved me. He gave me hope and he valued me and it made me feel a renewal of what I felt before. That tears me in two because I would not harm anyone who was dear to me, but I fear that no matter what, I will be doing exactly that. I will lose either way.”
He didn’t speak for a long time. When he did she could hear the restraint in his voice.
“I am sorry. I do not know how to advise you. Only you can know your heart. Just…know I would not stand in the way of your happiness.”
“Obviously no one would,” she said, thinking of Lancelot making the stupid gesture he had made by leaving, “and that is part of the problem. I do not know what is worse, whether someone makes your choices for you, or if you are left to muddle through the choices yourself.”
“There is a chance for you in one direction,” he said, “and as much as I may wish it, there… can be none in the other.”
“I know, but that does not make it any easier.”
“I know.”
She stayed silent for a moment and reexamined her feelings for the hundredth time that day. The fire she felt for Lancelot was still there, the embers glowing dimly, and she felt they would always be there; for if she had changed him forever, he had also changed her. She knew that her feelings for him would never fully go away just as she had told him, and she didn’t want them to, but she did not regret their fading. Fire was passionate and spontaneous and delightful, but she feared the heat and the changeability of it. It was too likely to scorch and run rampant, something to be desired, but not possessed.
Because the love she had for the man riding with her was better than fire. It was a light, warm and alive, seeming brighter and brighter, chasing away the dark, sometimes too cold and brilliant to bear, but ever constant, ever growing, needing nothing else to sustain it but itself. She realized that it was what she craved and what she needed, what she would choose if given the choice. Even if the light was always just beyond her reach.
She was reminded of the first time she met Lancelot and a teasing Merlin had asked her who she would choose, Arthur or Lancelot. At the time she had been glad to say that she would never have to choose. It had been Merlin she was besotted with back then and she had to laugh at the memory. But now that choice he'd offered was before her and this time she knew the answer.
“I do not expect anything,” she said slowly, “and I cannot say that it is easy to decide this, but if there was a choice, I- then I would take the road where there was no hope. Because regardless of any other feeling, that is the road I love.”
She could hear his breath quicken and she chanced a glance back at him. His face was set straight ahead but then he looked down at her and she could see the joy in his eyes. She blushed and turned back toward the road. Slowly, she felt his left arm circle around her waist and she felt warm all over.
“Is this all right?” he asked, his voice made deeper for some reason, the reverberations rumbling against her back.
“Yes,” she said slowly and then leaned back against him, never minding how uncomfortable it was with his chainmail on, and felt his cheek against her head.
“Did you mean that?” he asked, his arm tightening.
“I don’t suppose I would have said it if I didn’t,” she said, her tone exasperated.
He threw back his head and laughed and she loved the sound. Arthur was not truly merry often, but when he was, it was never this carefree.
“Oh, my Guinevere,” he said, “I am glad.”
She closed her eyes and tried to hold on to the moment for it could not last. This moment would end the exact instant they came to Camelot and she wanted it to be forever.
“I understand it does not change anything,” she said.
He sobered instantly.
“No, I am sorry. I would change those laws, but my father would never do so.”
“Your father will not be king forever,” she reminded him.
“But I cannot hold you till then.”
“You do not need to hold me, I shall hold myself. And I…I will not put anyone in this situation again.”
“What, getting kidnapped? I have to say that’s rather a relief because it is a bit of a bother coming to get you. In case you hadn’t noticed I am rather busy being prince and all.”
She swatted the arm holding her waist and he caught her hand in his and held it.
“I meant any situation where you have to wonder what road I am going to choose,” she said, feeling exasperated at his pride, yet rather glad they weren’t being quite as serious as before.
“You need only say you wish to choose another road and it will be done,” he said.
“And that I never will,” she said firmly, daring to raise her un-captured hand to the side of his face and he leaned into her touch.
“Thank you,” he said into her hair.
“Always, my lord,” she said.
They rode this way for a long time, speaking seldom, as if needing to be quiet and concentrate on each other. It was one of the best and worst experiences of Gwen's life, held in an exquisite restraint; just on the cusp of true happiness, but knowing that even that little bit of it was far better than anything else she'd ever known.
When they reached the borders of Camelot Arthur pulled the horse to a halt and got down. She was reluctant for him to remove his arm and he appeared to be just as reluctant to remove it. He pulled her off the horse and she cast her eyes down when his hands stayed on her waist.
“It would not bother me, but it will not look good if I ride into Camelot with a serving girl on my horse. Merlin can walk the rest of the way.”
“Do not spoil this by abusing Merlin,” she said, teasing.
He laughed again and bent down.
“I would not think of Merlin right now, no. But I fear we must very soon for even he can’t be so slow as to not be here presently. In fact, I believe that is him I hear coming.”
“Then I would make the most of the time,” she said, hardly believing her own daring.
He smiled as if delighted with her audacity and lowered his head still farther and kissed her. His lips were warm and rough and he did not linger long, but she could still feel his kiss long after he was gone.
“I love you, too,” he whispered before disappearing to the other side of the horse and she could hear him start to berate Merlin, who she could now hear approaching their position.
She took a moment to process the idea of Prince Arthur being in love with the lowly Guinevere. It was a heartening and yet humbling thought with almost no idea of fulfillment in sight.
Merlin cast a knowing glance at her when Arthur helped her onto the horse and she glared at him. He laughed and then went silent as Arthur asked him exactly what was so funny. The two relapsed into their usual banter as they went on. Merlin smiled cheekily up at her as they traveled and she had never been more grateful for his friendship.
She rode back to Camelot in a daze. She could hardly believe her experiences of the last few days. Her life had nearly been taken from her, she had found a noble man and lost him, she had been scared and hurt and angry and happy. She’d been to the height and depth of every emotion and even though she had the heart of the prince of Camelot, she was as far away from him as ever.
Arthur helped her down from her horse but this time his hands did not linger. He led her silently up the stairs to a frantic Morgana’s embrace. Suddenly, it occurred to Gwen that she was home. She had missed Morgana terribly so she put her arms around her mistress and the force of their hug turned her around to face Arthur. She looked into his eyes and tried to say everything with her own that she could. She did not even know what she was saying, what apologies she was offering, what thanks she was giving, what frustration and love she was sending, but she tried her best. He looked at her, sadness pervasive now that they were back, yet somehow he was steady and resolved for all that, and then Arthur turned and went back down the stairs and all that she was left with was the light in her heart. It would have to be enough for now.