OK this will probably be sad but it was a thought that would not leave me alone. Well yeah. It happens :) A warning, spoilers for season 5 episode 13, and depression. Anyway enough of my madness, on with the story.

Queen Guinevere was sat on her throne. She had finally stopped her anxious pacing, but her mind was racing. Outside in the courtyard, knights were returning from Camlann in small groups. Some of the stragglers were wounded, others were supporting their wounded friends and colleagues. The body count was increasing rapidly. Quickly filling the courtyard with white sheets covering the faces of the dead. Families stood around the falling, their keening sounding to the sky, to the Gods. Were they listening? The sounds of their mourning echoed around the castle. Their heroes unable to hear their voices. Children knelt next to their fathers, mothers and wives clutched their young ones.

Silent tears were falling down the beautiful queens face. She had no idea where her king was. Or even if he was alive. No, she knew he was alive, she could feel it. And he had Merlin. Brave, idiotic Merlin. Merlin who was their saviour. Yes, she had worked it out. From the hints that Gaius had dropped and the small slips Merlin himself had made. She had figured out about their silent, defender, who never sought praise.

This did not stop her tears though. Even Merlin may not be able to save his King this time. With an army after them and time against them. But she was the queen, she could not let such thoughts cloud her mind. She needed to be strong, for their people. For her King.

But even the iron wall that the queen had put up against such thoughts was breaking. Crumbing, rusting. Like a tainted blade. Thoughts slipped past her armour. Regrets. So many things had she wished to tell her king. Arthur. How she had always loved him. That she believed in him. But she had grown to used to the fact that he had always come home. To her.

To calm her thoughts she pictured her beloved. Placing the image firmly in her mind, of him. The way his hair was ruffled from sleep, how his blue eyes bore into hers. Seeing right into her heart. The way he laughed. The small quirks he had. She thought back to the prince that she had first met, and how he had changed. How she had witnessed the change, from arrogant prince to fair and just king.

Arthur had never really been like his father, but still looked up to him. However, he had been his own man enough to look past titles and status. He had married her. A mere servant. And knighted her brother, a commoner. He excelled and was known for his strengths, never his weaknesses.

But it was only when the sound of hooves in the courtyard roused her from her memories, that she realised where her true regret lay. How stupid to have only just truly noticed. How much Arthur, wanted, needed an heir. He had been expectant that she would announce to him that the Pendragon dynasty would continue. His family could truly be melded.

She, Queen Guinevere of Camelot had failed to notice. Failed to mention to her husband. The she was carrying his child. Sure she had suspected. But she had not wanted to tell him in case, as was so common, something should go wrong. But she had failed him. Failed to tell him. Her beloved husband who would sacrifice anything for his kingdom. His people. Had ridden away without the knowledge that he would never hear.

It was then that she saw a young man running towards her. A young man with tousled dark hair and a tear streaked face, pale against the blood red of his neckerchief. That she felt the cord bounding her heart to that of her husbands fray, and snap. Then that she fell to her knees. Greif filling every part of her soul.

She knew then, from the look on that one man's face that her beloved was dead. Her hero. Her King. Her hearts prince.

King Arthur was dead. And he never knew. Never knew because of her. Never knew he was a father.

Well there it is folks. I know it is depressing and angsty and beating herself up and very short. But I had to write it. If there is enough interest (reviews people) the I may follow up with the little prince or princess. But if not shall leave it there.