"I never once stopped loving you. Never once."
~Guinevere, Episode 4.13, The Sword in the Stone Pt. 2
Gwen couldn't say when she started loving Arthur Pendragon. It had been sometime in between that first, sunlit kiss and the time when Vivian had visited Camelot. Sometime in between there, he'd walked into the room in which she was standing, and her heart had jumped. And it had hit her like the time her brother overestimated his staff's swing when they were young; she was in love with Prince Arthur Pendragon. Despite how unlikely it was that he could care for her in return or that anything could come of it, she never stopped loving him. She told herself that kiss hadn't meant the same to him as to her, but she couldn't stop loving him.
She never thought she would.
Then he became King Arthur, and she loved him. He proposed, and she loved him so much that her heart nearly exploded and she forgot to accept.
Lancelot came, and she still loved Arthur. She would protest that until the day she died. She didn't know what came over her then, but she had loved her fiancé and not Lancelot. She knew she did; she knew Arthur so well, how could she not love him?
For a bit after Arthur burst into the room, screaming with all that pain visible in his eyes, she stopped loving herself. Her shame was so great that she almost wasn't hurt by Arthur's condemnation. Almost. She hated herself, but she loved Arthur.
That was one part of herself that she could never ignore or deny: he was such a large part of her. It was unchangeable, rock-solid… Birds sang, snakes slithered, wind blew, and Guinevere loved Arthur Pendragon.
Except.
Except there was a moment when she didn't.
She was working with the pigs after she had been exiled when the moment came. It wasn't a large moment externally. She figured her face didn't even change expression. She was just working, brooding, hating herself for her own stupidity and infidelity, but pushing that pain to the side and trying to smile.
She would have stew for supper that night, she told herself. That was good. Stew was good. She smiled to herself.
It was at that moment, right after she'd had the thought about the stew, that Arthur Pendragon crossed her mind, and there was no love in her heart. She saw his face in her head, but her heart was not tender.
It wasn't just that there were no butterflies flittering in her stomach. She'd moved passed that sensation a while ago. But the rest of what accompanied the thought of someone she loved – the soft-heartedness, the mere recognition that she would do anything for him – wasn't there.
She was angry. Yes, angry. He had kicked her out of her home. He had made her leave the house that he had promised her she could keep for as long as she lived. He'd promised that, hadn't he? Right after her father had died. He'd told her that her job would never be in danger. And then he exiled her, and she was supposed to be grateful that he hadn't executed her!
Gwen was shocked at her own anger. She wasn't used to fury; it wasn't an emotion that came to her often. She hadn't been so livid since her father was killed. Actually, had she been so angry even then? Uther had killed him wrongfully, but Uther hadn't done it after swearing that she would be safe, that he would give her the world, that they would get married… And Arthur had.
Was this how Morgana felt all the time? The thought hit her unexpectedly. This mood was motivating. If it was, she could see why Morgana always tried to hurt them. It probably relieved the pent up fury. Was Morgana always soaking in these feelings of betrayal and loneliness and resentment?
Gwen felt suddenly very empty inside. Distantly, as she stood up and surveyed the pigs, she realized that she had a choice.
She could be angry, and stop loving Arthur. Maybe even forever. She could turn her back on all that and hate Camelot for abandoning her.
Or she could release the hurt and anger. She felt her love for Arthur coming back, bubbling right under the surface, ready to fill her again and restore the world to its balance.
Loving Arthur hurt. The anger made her feel empowered.
And now she could choose.
Gwen stopped her work and cocked her head to the side, thinking. But… Loving Arthur felt right. And hating him felt almost the coward's way out. It felt like Morgana, and she did not want to be Morgana, did she?
She was not Morgana.
She was Guinevere, and she made her own mistakes.
She let out a deep breath she hadn't realized she was holding as she made up her mind. Then she bent her back and returned to working with the pigs.
Above her, the birds sang, and the light breeze brushed her curls away from her face.
A/N: I recognize that I have been gone for a while. And this is not a replacement for an update of X or Vault, I know. I started a new story… an original one. I didn't want to lose momentum. So I should start updating again pretty soon, but they may be slower than usual. Sorry, Merlin fandom. A protagonist I made up wants to infect my mind.
Erm, review, please?