Gwen had begun to fear going to her home. Her life had become a constant state of the unknown, ever since the marriage. That's what she had referred to it as since it had happened. The Marriage. The moment when her life had stopped. A noble man, James Uniregan, had taken a liking to her. Found her beautiful. He had tried courting her but she wasn't interested. It wasn't that he wasn't good looking. He was handsome, certainly, tall and slim, with dark hair and dark eyes. But his personality didn't appeal to Gwen. He was arrogant and sure of himself. And so when she hadn't warmed to him, he had bought her affection. Literally. He had payed her father money for her hand in marriage. Her father had refused at first, of course, but then they had threatened him. Gwen had made him say yes. She didn't want her father dead. And so she had come to resent James. But that wasn't why she feared her home.

No, she feared home because of how he had changed. In public he was sweet and kind, nice to her in every way. Some could say he even doted upon her. But when they were alone, it was like a mask was being removed. He would snap at her, and act as though she were an object he owned. But that wasn't all. Of course, the bruises on her arms were easy enough to hide. The long sleeves of her dress took care of that. But others weren't so easy to explain. Her lies had become more and more creative as his threats had scared her. Of course he seemed to immediately regret his actions. But that didn't stop him from repeating them.

And all the while Gwen lived in silence. Because if she told anyone, who would believe her? She was simply a servant.

Prince Arthur had grown up with Guinevere, she had been his only and most loyal friend for many years. As they grew into maturity, he began to value her not only for her friendship, but something deeper. She may not be of royal birth, but she was a princess to him - in every way.

They had always met, every Friday under a great oak tree in a field. When they were children these meetings often were places of play, and adventure, but as they grew older it began to get more serious and they left their childish wanderings behind. It was then and there, that when he was eighteen, he asked if he could kiss her. She said yes.

Slowly, she grew quiet, and wouldn't answer his questions when they met in their place, so very alone. He begged her to tell, and promised that he'd never tell a soul, but Guinevere wouldn't tell, and slowly she never came again.

For months, Arthur waited under that great oak, rain or shine, to see if she would come running back to his arms. But she never did.

Gwen knew she was lying to herself. She had told herself it was better if she didn't see Arthur. She was only leading him along, into something that could never be. And she was married now. But that wasn't why she'd stopped meeting him. She'd stopped because James had told her to, more with his actions than his words. He feared she would leave him, although she never would. He had threatened the life of her father.

Gwen found every opportunity to leave the home she shared with James, but those times were becoming less and less, and it was harder for her to go out in public. The bruises that she bore on her arms and face were appearing more and more frequently, and questions had started to arise. She was scared. So scared.

Arthur had heard of Guinevere's marriage, of course, everyone had. Lord James bore her on his arm like a jewel. But that jewel faded more and more, even as it was exposed to the public and the sunlight. He watched in silence as her face grew cast with both sorrow, and dark impressions that could only have been made by the hand of a man. But there was nothing he could do, absolutely nothing. All Arthur could do was watch, and wait, hoping that one day someone would be Guinevere's deliverance. Little did he know, that fate would give him the chance to be that person.

Gwen had tried not to let people notice the bruises. But it was hard. She didn't seem to realize that she was getting thinner. Her clothes clung to her body in awkward places, and her cheeks seemed almost sunken. She avoided looking at her reflection whenever possible. The only thing she wanted was to be free. Because she felt like a prisoner, and there was no other way to say it. She wished for when she had been free to do what she pleased, without fearing the pain it would bring. And the tears that fell down her cheeks were always silent, and forgotten. No one seemed to be there. She didn't think anyone cared anymore.

Thoughts of Gwen nearly began to take Arthur over. It was all he thought of, day and night. It hurt him to see her in so much pain, and so much desperation. At night he would we stare up at the stars, unable to sleep, overwhelming thoughts swarming his head. Her captivity was his own. As Arthur stood up, in the hours of the night, he would run his fingers along the edges of his sword and wonder how it would feel to challenge Lord James...and defeat him. However, challenging a noblemen was no easy task. He may be prince, but if the challenge was revoked his father's honour would be considered scarred. That would be unforgivable.

Gwen slept uneasily. She feared what James would do to her when she was asleep, and so she slept lightly, and as a result had two or three hours every night in which her worries were erased. Even then, her face was creased with lines of worry. It wasn't the captivity that scared her most, it was the thought that this could last for the rest of her life. She could be trapped with this man for the rest of her days. She didn't know why he had wanted to marry her. It was clear he just wanted someone to smile beside him, and do what he asked. Or perhaps a person to practice his blows upon.

Finally, the Prince could stand it no longer. His sleepless nights taunted him, as he knew hers must do the same.

Arthur issued a challenge to Sir James, unknown to his Father, to meet him in the town square, a fight to the knight's rules and to the death.

Gwen had heard of the challenge from Merlin before she heard of it from James. She didn't know how to feel. She didn't know why Arthur had issued the challenge, for one thing. Unless he knew. But she didn't think that was possible. In her mind, she had covered up her tracks flawlessly. But she was also scared. James was as good a swordsman as Arthur. She feared for Arthur. And then she felt guilty. James was her husband, and she was supposed to be faithful to him.

James knew. He knew that Gwen didn't fear for his life. And he made her know it. The bruises on her neck had taken a long time to cover up, and she still felt as though her breath would not come properly, even the next day as she walked out to the courtyard with James.

Arthur and Merlin attracted much attention as they came to meet the Prince's opponent. Arthur did indeed look very formidable, arrayed in full armor, and flashing his sword before him.

Four knights of Camelot, Arthur's trusted friends and one's bound to secrecy, stood to corners of a makeshift arena.

Positions were given, and both men prepared themselves to either go to their deaths or stand in victory. Both knew that only one person would go home that night.

Arthur came with the knowledge that Sir James was a skilled adversary, but did not expect so much.

After several unsuccessful advances, Arthur finally succeed in wounding his opponent, with a slice across his torso.

Gwen gasped, hands covering her mouth. She hated watching fights, but she couldn't look away. And when James was wounded she didn't know how to feel. Would he die? And was it so terrible that she hoped he would?

The older knight recoiled, knocking Arthur over the head, and sending him running, while his blood began to poor over the gray stones, turning them a dark crimson.

Arthur groaned, and was sent flying, the air knocked right out of his lungs. His sword flew from his grasp, and Sir James stood over him, poised to strike.

When all seemed to late, Arthur swung his legs to the left, underneath the other knight's feet, sending him sprawling. Quick to regain his sword, Arthur repositioned himself, holding it over James's neck.

"What? Too much of a coward to kill a man?" His challenger breathed heavily.

Arthur's sword came down, and the man drew his last breath.

Gwen had tears in her eyes and she couldn't explain why. There was nothing left for her to do now. She sank to her knees, her small body wracked with sobs. But it wasn't because James was dead, not at all. She didn't really know why she was crying.

Arthur ran to Guinevere's side, and gently comforted her, taking up one of her soft hands, and kissing it tenderly.

"You're safe." He said, his voice calm and low. "You never have to be with him again."

Gwen almost seemed to collapse into Arthur, her whole body shaking. "You saved me." She whispered through dry lips. It seemed like it had been years since she had been able to speak.

"Shh. Sh.." Arthur soothed. "Don't talk. Just cry. It's alright to cry."

The crowd had dispersed by now, and they were...alone. It was like when they were eighteen. She wasn't that little girl he used to see.
Gwen couldn't say that she was fixed. She didn't think she'd ever be fixed. But just being here with Arthur, being held by him, made her feel a better. Certainly better. Not whole but...closer.

It didn't make sense, but Arthur took her into his arms, and carried her out to that old oak tree. It was the only place that made sense. A quiet calm settled over him, as she lay there in his arms, her head resting on his shoulder, in complete trust.

"How did you know?" Gwen whispered. She couldn't put her feelings into words. She just needed to be near him. She closed her eyes and listened to his heartbeat. It was the only thing that seemed real.

"I was always there. I watched everything. Because I loved you. And...all I finally could think off was how I needed you, and after a few years, I couldn't watch you hurt anymore. Because I love you."

Arthur confessed, setting her down under the tree, and joining her, and holding tightly to her hand. Gwen bit back more tears that threatened to overflow. "You...You're..." She couldn't seem to articulate what she wanted to say, "I love you." She said finally.

The way Arthur felt with his arms around and her head on his chest, then and there, brought him back to that place, so many years before. It was under that great oak tree, where splendid adventures had occurred, tears had fallen, and at long last a romance had blossomed. At long last, he felt he could reply, "I love you more.