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“They’ve left, Gwen—both of them.”
“Oh.” It’s the only word that manages to escape her lips, the only word she trusts herself to utter without revealing that her world is turning on its head. Gwen just manages to grab hold of a nearby table, preventing her knees from collapsing. How has this happened? When? They had just returned! Arthur and Merlin had just returned, safe and alive and here. She hadn’t even had a chance . . . she hadn’t seen. . . .
She knew that Arthur would pursue the dragon. She knew he would not stand idly by as fire ravished his kingdom and its people. She knew, just as well, that Merlin would follow his prince to this certain death.
She just never imagined that they would leave without a word—that he would leave without so much as a goodbye.
“They’ll be all right,” Gaius assures her, placing a hand on Gwen’s shoulder. The gesture is meant to be comforting but only feels cold. When Gwen looks into Gaius's eyes, she knows he no more believes his words than she does.
Gwen needs space—a moment alone to collect her thoughts so she can push them aside and return to serving her kingdom as she should (as Arthur is doing right now). She nods, offering Gaius a smile that is no more convincing than his declaration. Gaius furrows his brow, but a wail from a patient forces him to leave any questions unasked.
She is alone—at least as alone as one can be in the middle of a make-shift hospital. She breathes in deeply, willing her hands to stop shaking, to bury her emotions so she can be a source of comfort so desperately needed.
She shouldn’t be surprised; she doesn’t understand why she is. The ones who left her never said a word before they disappeared into the hazy horizon. Why, then, should it be any different with Arthur?
Because you trusted him. Furiously she brushes away a stray tear with the back of her hand. Trusted him, yes. But trusted him to what? To become the king this kingdom so desperately needed?
To stay by her side?
This thought—no, realization—shakes Gwen, and that unfamiliar feeling of panic takes hold once more. She lets go of the table, fingers curling into twin fists. They could never be. She has said as much so many times before. He has said as much before. And yet . . .
Never underestimate the power of love. I’ve seen it change many things.
It can’t change this, she thinks to herself, feeling her nails dig into the soft flesh of her palms, and neither can you.
Looking up she takes in the chaos: at the men, women, and children clinging to one another as they wait for the overworked physician to see to them. With one last thought of the man she might have loved, Gwen pushes past all the regrets and what-ifs and walks over to tend to the wounded.
(She wonders, dimly, how long it will take until the image of Arthur’s knowing smile fades from her memory, or how long until she can no longer remember the feel of his beating heart beneath her palm. She wonders when she will finally allow herself to recognize this loss—for herself and for the kingdom they both so dearly love.)
The next few hours are a flurry of faceless people rushing past. She tends to everyone who comes her way, but she is barely aware of her surroundings as she cleans out one wound and wraps another, over and over. She can’t let her mind wander. If she does . . . if she does then all she will see is Arthur, limp and barely breathing as he was those many months before.
And then someone grabs her by the shoulder, shakes her out of her daze and breathes life back into her with two simple words: They’re back.
Suddenly, Gaius stands before her. Gwen blinks, not sure that she understands. “They’re back?” she repeats, and as soon as she utters those two words they register, and she finds her mind begin to race, chanting, Don’t be a dream, don’t be a dream, don’t be a dream . . . .
Gaius turns around and Gwen doesn’t need to be told to follow. Within moments they’ve run down to the castle gates and she can see two figures—tired, worn, and almost beaten—emerge from the fog. Arthur and Merlin. They’re here. They're alive and safe and returned.
They’re in public. They’re in public and she doesn’t care because she’s realized that there is so much more to lose (so much more she almost lost). She runs to him, throwing her arms around his neck and holding him close, reassuring herself that this is real, that she doesn’t need to remember the feel of his beating heart beneath her palm because she can feel it against her cheek, pressed into the crook of his neck.
We can never be, and she finds, to her surprise, that she no longer believes these words to be true. Hours ago Arthur was dead and all her hopes, her dreams, her future were dead with him. And yet here he stands, his arms wrapped tightly around her, his hands grasping her waist.
Never underestimate the power of love. I’ve seen it change many things, and she believes it at last, believes that these words have more power than we can never be. She wonders, her mind alight, how long until these words will come to pass; how long until everything will finally change.
Or whether it already has.