"Guinevere."

Gwen glanced up from her place on the dungeon floor. "Arthur," she breathed. She stared at him for a moment, just making out the outline of him through the bars of the prison door. Her breath caught as she realized that this would very likely be the last time they saw each other, the last time she would speak his name. She wanted nothing more than to rush over and grab his hands through the bars, to feel his skin on hers one last time, but as she shifted she felt the weight of the chains around her wrists. She would barely make it halfway.

"You shouldn't be here," she said, her voice barely carrying across the cell. Despite her words, despite the anxiety that gnawed at her stomach at the thought of what would happen if someone were to discover him, she was grateful for his presence. The idea of spending her final hours alone, the idea that she had been forgotten in this dark cell.…

It frightened her more than the fate that awaited her.

"There's nowhere else I should be," he countered. Suddenly his head disappeared from view, followed by the sound of a slight jingling, and Gwen realized he was looking for a key.

"Arthur, no …" she whispered, instinctively jumping up from her place on the ground. Her plea went unheeded, however, and a moment later Arthur was inside with her, grabbing her wrists and releasing her from the shackles.

"What are you doing?" she demanded, already knowing the answer.

"I won't let you die, Gwen." His voice was hoarse but his tone determined. "The guards are asleep – Merlin slipped them something – if we leave now it'll be hours until anyone notices you're gone. And by then we— "

"Arthur!" Gwen had been strong these past few days. Even tonight, knowing what the dawn would bring, she had managed to keep her tears at bay. Uther was to rob her of her life – of her future – but she had sworn to herself that he would not rob her of her dignity. But facing Arthur's desperation, knowing that come tomorrow he could be a broken man, was more than she could stand. She felt the tears well up in her eyes, and she desperately tried to blink them away as she reached up to cup Arthur's face. "Arthur, you can't."

"You are not going to die, Guinevere," he repeated, and though she could barely make out his face in this darkness she knew that his eyes were flashing, a grim determination settling into his features.

Gwen lowered her hand and shook her head. "No, Arthur, I am." She felt a sob rise at the back of her throat at this acceptance, but she stifled it with a quick intake of breath. She swallowed, reminding herself that she needed to stay calm, that Arthur needed her to stay calm. She grabbed his hand, her shaking fingers twining through his clammy ones. "You can't leave Camelot, Arthur," she told him, voice as steady as she could manage. "You can't place yourself in self-exile. The people need you – need the king you will become."

"I could return – we would return!" he objected, and she cringed at the pleading tone in his voice.

"They would never forgive you, Arthur. Nor would they forgive me, the servant girl who stole away their future king." She rubbed the back of her hand with her thumb, preparing him for the undeniable truth. "And we would never forgive each other."

"Gwen!" Arthur's grip had tightened around her hand. Despite his tone she knew her words hadn't offended him; they had reminded him of the truth that he himself had tried to bury. Gwen slid down the stone wall until she was once again sitting and pulled Arthur with her. She wrapped her free arm around his waist and tucked her head beneath his chin. Closing her eyes at the feel and sound of his heartbeat, in that moment she wondered why she had spent so many months denying herself this closeness. Again and again she had pushed him away when she, of all people, knew that life was anything but fair, that it would not hesitate to rip either of them from this world as it had her mother and her father. But, a part of her still that naïve girl who had once believed in the king who had now sentenced her to death for a second time, she had assumed that they had time, that the day would come when their love would not be so uncertain, and then.… Now, curled up against Arthur for the first and last time, she felt her chest tighten at the knowledge of all the time she had wasted.

"We're not those people," she whispered finally. "We can't be that selfish. Sometimes … sometimes I wish we were. There were days when I wondered what it would be like to just run away and leave all of this behind – the pointless rules, the titles – but then we wouldn't be the people we fell in love with. We wouldn't be us, and I can't … I wouldn't change…. " It was too much. A sob finally escaped her and she turned into Arthur, letting her tears soak his tunic. It was Arthur's turn to wrap his arm around her, and he pulled her closer to him until she almost sat on his lap. He kissed the top of her head, and Gwen felt him take in a deep breath.

"You could leave," he said, and by the way he stiffened beneath her Gwen knew this was his final option, the out he hoped he'd never have to give her. "I'd send Merlin with you to– to make sure you're okay. I'd say he was off doing some sort of chore – no one would blink an eye at him taking days to finish it – and he'd stay with you until you found someone – maybe Gwaine. You could try to convince him that there's more to life than drinking. Or join him. Whatever makes you happy, I don't mind." Gwen let out a shaky laugh that was muffled by his chest, but this momentary respite couldn't prevent her heart from dropping. Leaving wasn't an option. It had never been an option, at least not one she could take. She had known it the moment Uther pronounced her sentence, but Arthur... "There's still time, Gwen. You can escape."

"I can't." She squeezed his hand, hoping that this small gesture of reassurance would somehow soothe him. "Uther would know what you had done – what Merlin had done. I won't endanger Merlin, and I won't risk your father stripping you of your birthright. Not again. The people need to believe in you, Arthur. I won't take that away from them."

"Gwen, please." His voice cracked, causing Gwen's stomach to turn. She didn't want to die. She couldn't pretend that she wasn't afraid or that her mouth didn't turn dry at the thought of everything she would never have. But all of this paled in comparison to the realization that Arthur could turn into just as bitter a man and his father – that she would be the cause. "You were the one.… That night, you told me that I'd be a great king one day." Gwen shut her eyes as memories flooded her mind. He had laughed at her bashfulness, his boyish face lighting up as she ducked her head to hide her blush. Had they really been so young once? "You're the one who made me realize that I didn't have to follow in my father's footsteps, that I could be king and care for the people. You had faith in me – you. And I can't … I can't do this without you, Guinevere. I can't."

At these words Gwen turned and moved back so they were face-to-face. She could barely make out his features and she was sure that he could no better make out hers, but she needed him to hearthis, needed him to understand that his future and the future of Camelot would not die with her. "Yes, you can. And you will."

His hands grabbed at her arms, gripping her tightly. "But, I— "

"Shh," she whispered, leaning her forehead against his. "Shh." His grasp eased and she cupped his face again, this time with both hands, and smoothed away the skin. When she felt most of his panic melt away she continued: "You won't be a great king because of anything I said, Arthur. You'll be a great king because that's who you are. Your heart belongs to the people and you would willingly sacrifice your life for theirs. But if you let this moment define you for the rest of your life, if you let my death destroy the great future that awaits you, that awaits Camelot…. Arthur, if I'm to die tomorrow, I want to die knowing that you will do everything in your power to ensure that your kingdom is fair and just." She stopped as his tears fell against her fingers. She tried to brush them away, but more followed, so instead she leaned in closer – letting their noses brushing against each other – and whispered, "Promise me, Arthur. Promise me that I can die knowing that, one day, it will be different. Leave me that much. Please."

He managed to murmur back, "I promise. For you."

Gwen shook her head. "For Camelot." She felt him nod and she placed a grateful kiss against his cheek.

For several minutes there was silence save for the sounds of their breathing. His fingers drew small circles against her waist, and Gwen's drifted down until they traced his lips. She felt him still beneath her touch. She swiped the pad of her thumb against his bottom lip one last time before dropping her hands to his shoulders and closing the gap between them. She had meant for it to be soft, another source of comfort, but within moments he had parted her lips, his tongue sliding against hers in a desperate kiss. One hand flew to her waist and another into her hair. He pulled him to her so that she straddled him – the skirt of her dress hiked up and her chest flush against him. Despite the fear that the guards might wake she moaned into his mouth. Her own hands found their way beneath his tunic, and he gasped as her cool fingers came into contact with his skin.

"Guinevere," he groaned, and his hand on her waist inched up. There was no bodice in his way – she had rid herself of it long ago – and his fingers soon brushed against the side of her breast. Gwen's breath hitched at the contact, and she felt tears sting her eyes. She had imagined this. She had imagined what it would be like to kiss Arthur with abandon, to have him touch her in such an intimate way. In her dreams – dreams that had seemed more and more attainable in the recent months – she had imagined the days following their wedding, when they would spend hours just exploring and learning and being terribly, embarrassingly in love.

That single touch had been a reminder of what she would never have.

His lips started making their way along her jaw, down the column of her neck, to her collarbone.… Gwen desperately tried to gulp air, every effort becoming more painful than the last. Months of this, years, an entire future …When his hand found its way underneath the fabric of her dress and finally cupped her breast she let out a strangled cry, unable to hide her distress any longer. He stilled at the noise, letting his hand fall and looking up at her. Gwen tried to slow her breathing, but when nothing seemed to ease her trembling and labored gasps Arthur pulled her into an embrace.

"I'm sorry," he mumbled into her hair. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't have— "

"No, it wasn't ... I just ... I can't …." She clenched the fabric of his tunic with both hands as if she were holding on for dear life. … an entire future, a lifetime in each other's arms.

Her brief panic finally subsided until all that remained were the salty tracks of tears down her face. Her grip on Arthur's tunic weakened until her hands, as if too tired to maintain their hold, dropped to her sides.

"I'll never love another," she heard him whisper into her ear. "As long as I live, Guinevere, I'll always.… " She felt him shudder, and despite the heaviness of her arms she managed to wrap them low around his back. "I'm scared, Guinevere. I don't want to be alone."

Gwen shut her eyes and willed herself not to give into the fresh wave of tears. "You won't be," she promised him when she trusted herself to speak, although her voice was hoarse. "You'll have Merlin and Morgana. And you'll have Camelot. You'll be all right."

"How can you be so certain?" And suddenly there was that boy again – the one from the woods so many years ago – the one who was lost and unsure and just searching for faith. Faith she had given him. Faith he would always have.

"Because," she answered simply, "I have faith in you. And nothing can take that away." She shifted so she was sitting next to him, but she immediately curled back into his embrace. Arthur's hand reached up and began to slowly stroke her arm.

"You should leave soon," Gwen said after a few minutes. "It won't be long until the guards come round."

"I know," Arthur replied, but he didn't move, and Gwen knew that he would stay here until they came for her – until the breaking of dawn. Her last sunrise. She should have objected, should have insisted that he leave, but if this was her last night then she would allow herself to be selfish – just this once.

She nestled deeper into Arthur's embrace, grateful that she could spend these final moments reminded that all was not lost.

Hope remained. Arthur would see to it.

If nothing else, she had faith.