*FLASHBACK*

Gwen sat nervously on the throne. It had been days since she had received the seal. She had begun to doubt herself. No matter how hard she tried to believe that Arthur would return to her, she had to face the facts.

No, she reminded herself. He's with Merlin. Merlin can save him. He will. He must.

Guinevere tried to believe this, that Arthur would return. After all, she never got to say a proper goodbye. He can't be dead. He can't.

Her train of thought was interrupted when she heard the faint sound of hooves. Without thinking, she broke into a run. It was only until she made it outside that she saw the truth. She had a moment of false hope when she saw Merlin. That feeling vanished at the sight of his red puffy eyes. Merlin caught her gaze, and gave a small, sorrowful shake of his head.

Sir Leon went over to talk to Merlin, to confirm his suspicions. Gwen watched as Sir Leon solemnly bowed his head and gave Merlin a reassuring pat on the back.

He turned back around to speak to Guinevere. "My lady..." he started, but she was already gone.

Gwen knew it wasn't lady-like to be running, but she could not break in front of her people. She heard people call out as she passed them, but she did not slow. She could already feel the tears welling up in her eyes. She stifled a sob when she started up the stairs.

She finally reached her chambers and shut herself inside, crying. A few tried to come in, to "help" with the situation, but there was nothing to help. They could not bring Arthur back.

Guinevere cried herself to sleep that night, clutching one of his shirts. It smelled like him.

*PRESENT*

It had been a month since the news. People were starting to move on, to forget. Not Guinevere.

She woke up crying. She had dreamt about Arthur again last night. She always did.

Gwen turned and looked at the other side of the bed - the part where he used to sleep. She lightly grazed her fingers over it and felt the slight dent from where he used to lay. This half had become somewhat of a sacred ground to Guinevere.

She spoke no louder than a whisper when she said, "I love you Arthur."

Guinevere let herself cry the silent tears that had haunted her, when she was interrupted by the words, "My lady."

She looked up, wiping away the tears, and saw her new servant, Annabeth.

"I'm sorry, my lady, I should have knocked, but... they're waiting for you in the dining hall," she said nervously, as if the queen were about to bite her head off.

Gwen nodded. "Thank you, Annabeth. I had nearly forgotten," she said calmly.

Annabeth curtsied. "Do you need anything else, my lady?" she started as Guinevere started to stand up.

"That will be all. Thank you," she said.

Annabeth curtsied again and left, leaving Gwen to her grief. She walked over to his old desk, which remained untouched, and picked up the shirt that had been left there. Even after a month, it still smelled of him. She hugged it tightly, and then started to dress herself.

On her way out, she grabbed the sample of one of his shirts. She took it everywhere, for luck, and to remind herself of what she once had.

Before she left for the feast, she glanced out the window, out at the kingdom that Arthur had built. Magic was now used freely, as long as it was not to harm. Merlin was now respected and valued for his powers, but that meant little to him. He grieved for Arthur, as Guinevere did. He had lost his spirit. He walked slowly now, and it was rare to see him smile. Only Guinevere could do that, for they shared the same loss.

Merlin had said that Arthur would be summoned again at Albion's greatest need.

"Why can't it be now," Gwen whispered. "I need you."

Over the years, Camelot grew used to life without a king, for Guinevere never remarried. There was an heir to the throne, however. It was a few months after that she learned that she was carrying the king's child. Guinevere watched her son grow up, and she died many years later of old age. All that she wished was that they could have seen him grow up together, that they could have grown old together. She knew that was unlikely, for, some day, he would not have returned. She just wish it hadn't been so soon. But it was his destiny.

He was the once and future king.