The day Gwen was crowned queen, she dropped two plates, tried to apologize to a servant for making her work, tore her dress, and ended up crying on the balcony. After an hour, Arthur came and got her, and brought her back inside.

When no one was around during those months, sometimes she would hum to her belly. She knew Arthur wouldn't mind or anything, but she just wanted to do it when it was her and the baby.

She didn't talk about the baby to her husband much at all.

She didn't like mentioning it to him, and seeing (before he could hide it) that he was terrified; scared stiff. And not just because Morgana had practically declared war on the king's unborn heir.

No, Arthur was scared because he thought she was going to die.

And that scared Gwen, because if she died, Arthur might turn into his own father.

Guinevere died quietly of old age.

While Merlin wasn't satisfied, he knew it was the best he could have ever hoped for.

When Merlin returned without Arthur, Guinevere had him arrested.

Once she collected herself, she had him released with an apology and an explanation that she would be working on lifting the ban for magic.

She didn't tell him that, just for a moment, she had considered blaming him for all the disasters. It would have been so easy. It would have, she was sure, stopped the pain.

"Oh, don't deceive me; oh, never leave me; how could you use a poor maiden soul?"

The singing servant girl never would understand why her innocuous song caused the queen to suddenly go red in the face and demand she leave at once. Guinevere had been acting unusual ever since her brother's death, yes, but even in her grief, this was incomprehensible.

"Maybe one day," Gaius said to Tom as he handed the man his potion, all the while keeping his eyes on the little curly-haired girl peeking over the counter. "Maybe one day she can assist me in here."

Not a single servant believed that Guinevere had truly been enchanted after the incident with Dragoon. But they also didn't know that the relationship was not over.

As a result, whispers of harsh words and rumors followed her for quite a while – words like "minx" and "social-climber".

After one "whore" that was a little too loud, Gwen turned around with tears rising to face the blond girl who had spoken. Guinevere said nothing, just stared at her. Then Merlin came forward and took Gwen's arm, leading her from the kitchen.

Guinevere did not believe in revenge.

But nor did she complain too loudly when Merlin made sure the girl had a spider in her shoe every day for a few weeks.

"Gwen, it's cold, you should go home."

Guinevere wrapped her cape tighter around herself and said to Merlin, "Do you think she thought we didn't love her?"

Merlin sighed. "Maybe," he said.

"I loved her."

"I know," Merlin said. "But being loved isn't the same as letting yourself believe you're loved."

Gwen gave him a funny look, and he remembered that Gwen was not a doubter. Not really.

"I know, I know, I'm going on… But you really thought Lancelot liked me?"

"Gwen, he kissed you."

Gwen was eight when the young noble boy who lived in the household where her mother worked kissed her, a bit confused because of his excitement.

Gwen sat down and started crying, and the poor flustered Leon brought her flowers the next day to make up for it.

"Yes, Gwen, Arthur enjoyed spending time at your house. I mean he seems like he did. Why wouldn't he? You're a great kisser."

"Merlin, I can't believe you just said that."

Arthur's hand was warm on her upper arm as he turned to face her, smiling. Beaming with happiness. Gwen breathed it all out. Married.

Arthur leaned in and kissed her lovingly, and she looked like she might fly to pieces.

"What's wrong?" he asked.

"I've never done this before," she whispered.

"What?" he chuckled. "This?" And he kissed her again.

"Oh, no," she said. "That, I've done before."

"Guinevere!" Leon called out when she returned, not quite as banished as she had been. He hugged her, and pushed her back, and said quietly, "Arthur was not the same without you."

His eyes were shining, and he said, "Really, neither were we."

"You're the only girl I'll ever love," Elyan told her once, when she was about five and he was about seven.

"Even when you get married?"

"I'm not getting married," Elyan bragged. "I'm going to be an explorer."

"Can't an explorer be married?"

"No, silly," Elyan told her. "He has to die young, like the hero the bard tells about, and I wouldn't want to leave a wife behind."

"But you'll leave me behind."

"You'll be fine," he said. "Besides, I need a girl to miss when I'm away."

Gwen was down with a sickness for a week, and came out of her house to find that Gwaine had broken Leon's arm, Lancelot had stormed off to go start a quest out of righteous anger, Arthur had shattered his favorite vase, and Merlin was nowhere to be found.

She resolved to not get sick again.

"You've grown so much," Gaius told her, looking her over with sad eyes. "You know, I feel that I'll come to regret not making you be my assistant."

It was mean, she knew, to ask Lancelot to protect Arthur for her. She knew very well that he would do anything she asked, at any cost.

But for once she let herself not care, because getting Arthur home was more important.

Gwen was working feeding pigs. She was vaguely certain that it reminded her of an old story a priest had once told her. A boy leaving his father. In this case, she hadn't left anyone, but betrayed someone, and then been kicked out. But she didn't focus too much on it, because the pigs were hungry.

"Well, they look fat and happy," said one passerby, an idle man. "For pigs, that is."

"They are," Gwen said, and since she was a little lonely, she continued. "I take good care of them – man who owns them even let me name two of them."

"What are their names?"

Gwen couldn't help grinning. "That one," she said, pointing, "is Arthur, and that one is Lancelot."

When Guinevere was forty and her beauty was fading and so was her popularity with certain neighboring rulers, she had it revealed to her that Arthur was not the only person Merlin would risk his life to save from an assassin's arrow.

Next to him, Gwen woke up sobbing.

"Oh, my gods… Gods…" she was muttering. "I killed him. I killed that poor boy."

So Arthur rolled over and wrapped his arms around her and let her cry, cursing Morgana and her enchantments.

"You're under arrest," Gwen told the boy, sipping her wine. "You'll be informed as to your sentence."

"You used to be so kind!" snarled the captive.

The girl simply sighed. "And then I became queen, and learned to temper that with justice."

Guinevere dedicated special time to mourning Gwaine as well as Arthur, and secretly she saved some of her tears for Mordred and Morgana as well.

"Gwen, what would I do without you?" Morgana sighed as her servant twisted her hair up for her.

"A lot less flirting, milady," Gwen answered, and her mistress laughed.

In the end, it was her son who had to write her epitaph and his speech.

He started it on her leadership, and then her wisdom, and then her kindness, but everything failed until the elderly Court Magician popped his head in and suggested he write it on the Queen's unfailing service to others.

It was smooth writing after that.

She didn't think she'd ever be able to forgive herself for her betrayal with Lancelot. She thought that she wasn't a good enough person to ever move on from that.

But she was wrong.

"No, really," Gwen insisted to the laughing servant girl next to her, giggling herself. "We don't do it on purpose. There's just always a problem, and you know how he gets in trouble, and the next thing you know the two of us get to run around and investigate! We're the ones who figured out the eyedrop trick."

The girl laughed and said she wished she did something so exciting with her beau.

Gwen thought about telling her Merlin wasn't her beau, but decided she didn't really care enough, nor was she quite awkward enough, to do so.

Guinevere told Leon that he, at least, should call her Gwen, since he was the last friend around who might do it. But he would not, and so she waited for Merlin to come home. Except he never did.

Once, Arthur left a rose and a note on her table, just because, telling her how he loved her, and she couldn't stop smiling the whole day.

Guinevere loved her father. She loved him as much as a daughter could.

And it was because of that love, rather than despite it, that she made such a valiant attempt to love Arthur's father.

But she wasn't good enough to do so.

Gwen pushed a curl out of her face and bundled what she was holding while she stared at the man in the stocks with a sigh.

She respected courage.

So she took a few steps forward and smiled.

"Hi. I'm Gwen."