"Gueneviere" called Arthur. The maidservant turned and walked up to him, standing much closer to him than she would have done just one week ago. She looked deeply and expectantly into his eyes. He coughed a little selfconsiously. "What happened while I was staying with you...I'm afraid my father would never understand"
She looked up at him, a mixture of dissapointment and pity on her face. "You don't have to explain", she said softly, "Perhaps when you are King things will be different."
Uther called his name from the far end of the cloister. He reluctantly broke off his conversation with Gueneviere leaving so much unsaid and turned away. His father the King was calling him and there was no disobeying such a summons.
He walked slowly, occasionally glancing back over his shoulder at the maidservant who in return stood and watched him until he rounded a corner. He sighed deeply and ambled a few paces behind his father who for the moment did not heed him, being deep in conversation with a member of the Council about how best to make amends to Odin for the death of his son in a duel with Arthur.
The Prince kept his head down, focusing on nothing. His hand was cradling the wound in his chest that had been inflicted by the assasin's lance. The blow had been dangerously close to his heart. Gaius had said that if the spike had penetrated just a tiny bit deeper then he would have died. The wound ached but was bearable. As he followed his father he thought back on the events of the last few days.
For as long as he could remember - possibly from before he could even walk or talk properly - he had been instructed in the ways of the Royal Court; how to eat, how to fight with honour, the differences between the nobility and the peasant classes, with whom to make alliances, what constituted appropriate behaviour in matters of the heart...the list was endless. Arthur had never before questioned this education. He had simply accepted it. As sure as he would one day rule Camelot, he had always trusted that his father would one day choose a bride for him based on the pedigree of the woman in question and - more importantly - on the need for alliance with a neighbouring Kingdom. Love had never been a part of the equation and Arthur had never felt it's absence.
Until now.
As he thought on it, Arthur realised that love had never really been a big part of his upbringing. He had begun to acknowledge this when he travelled with Merlin to Ealdor. Watching Hunith and Merlin being so unashamedly demonstrative in their affection for eachother and seeing the unconditional love shining in the eyes of his manservant for his mother had made Arthur quite breathless. He had never known anything like it. Arthur's father obviously cared for him but he had never been demonstrative. Arthur couldn't remember his father ever uttering the words, "I love you" to him even when he was small. His nurses had treated him well enough when he was a child, but they had always tended to his needs and demands out of a sense of duty rather than from real affection. Sometimes he caught that look of unconditional love in Merlin's eyes directed at himself. Not often, but when it happened it warmed him in a hitherto unknown place deep in his soul.
He was born to be a King, and so had been treated with deference for his entire life. He had never been scolded for speaking down to the servants around him, or to peasants in general. In his world it was the acceptable way. He had been flabbergasted when he had first met Merlin and the boy had called him out for his mistreatment of his squire. He had been indignant in the extreme - and more so when Merlin continued to accuse him of arrogance even after being made aware that Arthur was in fact Crown Prince of Camelot. But in retrospect Arthur had to concede - albiet reluctantly - that there was some truth in Merlin's criticism of the man that he had been back then. By some cruel trick of the gods he had ended up with the insolent wretch as his manservant and the boy had proven time and time again that those of noble birth did not have the monopoly on bravery or gallant behaviour. For this reason Arthur was willing to accept the boy's ongoing criticisms of him. Sometimes. The Prince smiled wryly as he thought about this. Although irritating, the boy did challenge him and make him question the world around him more than he ever had before and this was refreshing.
And now Gwen was doing the same. He had been stunned into silence by her tirade back in her small house in the lower town. She had accused him of being arrogant and thoughtless. It had stung him to the core - more so than Merlin's attacks on his character in fact, for he had known Gwen for many years and until recently had simply seen her as another member of the Castle Household sent to serve him. Now he was beginning to see her as so much more than that. She had dilligently and gently nursed him through his fever after the Questing Beast had almost killed him. Whilst doing so, thinking him unconscious she had told him that he would become a 'great King and a great man'. She had displayed selflessness and bravery in the battle against Kanaan's men in Ealdor. She had risked her own life to save his by flinging herself on top of him during the attack of the gargoyles summoned to life by Cornelius Sagan. He wondered if she had done such things to protect her own mistress Morgana.
He frowned a little as he recalled the kiss he had shared with Gwen. It had not been planned. It had been a spur-of-the-moment demonstration of his respect, fondness and thanks to her for what she had given up for him during the week of the tournament when he had taken over her humble household. It had meant to be a mere brushing of lips; a way to let her know that he was showing humility and accepted her as an equal. He had been surprised when Gwen had leant into the kiss and lingered there. He had been even more surprised to find himself doing the same. As they kissed it was as though his heart was expanding and filling his entire chest.
It was the same feeling he got on those oh so rare occasions when Merlin was pleased by Arthur's decisions and actions and gave him that special look. It was how he felt when Merlin had come to his chambers whilst he was recovering from the bite of the Questing Beast and told him that he would be happy to be his servant until the day he died.
It was a feeling that, now he had experienced it, he craved and wondered how he had lived without it all these years. It was something that filled his thoughts and compelled him to seek out the company and approval of those people that made him feel like this.
In an instant he realised that it was Love. He was In Love. With Gwen? With Merlin? With them both?
'May the gods help me' he thought, heaving a great sigh as he finally drew up alongside his father. He acknowledged and lamented the fact that his treasonous heart (which had apparently come so close to being pierced through) desired things that it could never have.