Arthur has to be good with words because one day he will be king of Camelot and his word will be law. But this doesn't mean that he is actually good with words, not the ones that he really wants to say.
To everyone else, he can say what he means and mean what he says. When it comes to Gwen, however, his tongue trips over the simplest of words and the meaning is lost before he can fix it.
He resolves to himself and the tree he is currently looking at that he will speak his mind the next time he has an opportunity to speak to her alone. The moment comes sooner than he thinks, for in the middle of deciding this course of action, Gwen appears in front of him.
She doesn't notice him at first because the garden they are both in is full of places to stay unseen. She moves with a grace that has him mesmerised, picking out flowers and humming to herself. He could stay here and watch her all day. His conscience, however, won't let him stay hidden and he forces himself to walk towards her. The tramp of his boots startles her and she whips round to face him. A warm smile blooms on her face and it's all Arthur can do to not pull her towards him and kiss her.
"Guinevere," he says, letting her name roll off his tongue. He knows he is the only person to call her by her full name, and he doesn't why this pleases him so much, but it does. She dips into a curtsey and he wishes she wouldn't do that because she is his equal, not matter what anyone else might say. "Good morning, sire," she says in return, and he almost curses out loud. He wishes she would call him Arthur.
"I didn't expect to find you here, Guinevere."
"I'm just picking some flowers to put in Lady Morgana's room, sire."
He moves towards her, ostensibly to speak to her but really to admire her up close. She's wearing the lilac dress that he likes so much and wonders how her eyes can shine the way they are now. Is it because of him? He hopes so.
Arthur reaches down into the basket Gwen is holding and pulls out a rose, twirling it between his fingers. "Beautiful," he says, holding up the rose but looking straight at her. A blush spreads over her cheeks and she looks at the ground, embarrassed by his attention. He means it; oh, he really means it. He wants to catch the blush for himself and keep it.
Now, his conscience urges him. His resolution to say what he wants to so desperately is holding steady, and he opens his mouth to speak. This is the moment he has been waiting for.
Gwen's head snaps up and away towards the castle, and then Arthur hears what has caught her attention - it's Morgana, calling her name. Gwen looks apologetic and curtseys again. "Good day, sire," she says before he can stop her, and she walks away.
The moment is gone, his words unspoken. He sighs and longs for the day he can say what he means to her and mean what he says. Until then, he will have to keep his words to himself.