Hi, all! It's been a while since I posted any new stories (or edited the old ones!) Needless to say, life has been a crazy wave of work, but I miss making fanfiction.

This little piece is, for now, a one-shot focused on Gwen. If/when I have time, I'd like to join this to other pieces in a series called Fables from the Round Table. However, I've been on more of a Hetalia kick lately, so more lovely Merlin fanfiction will have to wait.

Enjoy, peeps!

Six Swans

Guinevere loved her life in Camelot. She loved the town and its people, her job and her mistress, and of course all of her other friends. Still, it pained her to think that her brother was all alone somewhere, probably in danger as usual. She kept him in her thoughts with hope and did what she could to keep their childhood home going since their father's untimely death.

And now, she missed Lancelot, too. Why had he run away? She didn't understand. Those few moments in Hengist's cells, dark and dim as they were, had made her feel more alive than she could ever remember.

She tried not to think about it as she hurried to the throne room for the king's pressing announcement. Nope, she was not imagining Lancelot's handsome face or his dark, wavy hair… or his chivalrous bravery… or his manly beard. Not at all. That would be unladylike.

Gwen schooled her features into the picture of grace and stayed that way until the quiet hall erupted in applause and gossip. She could scarcely believe it and neither could anyone else. Was the king really going to marry the Lady Katrina—Queen Katrina, she supposed—so soon? She glanced at the lady in question. There was no denying her beauty, poise, or cunning. Yet there was something strange about her smile, something a little… off.

The fact that Katrina was actually a troll, needless to say, was not exactly the reason she had in mind. It all happened blindingly fast—one moment the king was newly wedded; the next, he had cast Arthur aside and agreed to crown his

wife as queen regent. And then it happened; Katrina actually turned into a real, live troll! Never before had she seen such a disturbed, horrified look upon Morgana's face. She was almost tempted usher the princess far, far away.

Perhaps, if she had, then maybe Morgana and their friends would not be out there somewhere fleeing for her life. But then again, dear reader, there would be no story to tell.

Into the dead of night, Gwen worked furiously, arms aching and fingers bleeding. They refused to stop, not even while stinging nettles scratched her calloused skin raw. After this many hours of spinning the god forsaken threads, she barely noticed anymore.

Tears silently slid down her cheeks, leaving salty tracks in their wake. Just a bit longer and she would have enough material.

A simple knock on the door jolted her already-razzled nerves. She leapt to her feet at once and drew the curtain to hide her work where it lay exposed in the tiny back corner of her humble home.

"Who is it?" she asked, wiping her face and just barely keeping the hitch of fear at bay in her voice. If Katrina's guards had seen her, she was all but doomed.

"Please, my lady, may I come in?"

Gwen's dark brows nearly reached her hairline as she rushed to open the door. "Lancelot?" Upon drinking in the sight of the equally-disheveled warrior, a smile lit her face for the first time in days. "Get inside, quickly!"

Lancelot's grave, handsome face softened with concern. He shut the door softly behind him and reached out to gently touch her shoulder. "What happened, Gwen? Merlin sent word that Camelot was in danger, but he didn't explain. I've heard rumor that the new queen is a cruel beyond reason, and that people have gone missing."

"She's a troll!" Gwen spat, finally unable to contain her anger. "A horrid, mean, nasty troll. I mean it Lancelot; the rumors are all true." She sunk to the floor, cradling her aching head in her hands. "Katrina—the troll, I mean—it tricked the king with some kind of love spell. Something went wrong and the fake Katrina turned into the monster she truly is, but he still doesn't see it!"

When she glanced up at Lancelot, who had knelt down beside her with his kind, worried face, and she let the tears fault. "She's taken them captive, Lancelot. I was the only other person there, but I hid, so I don't think she saw me. If she knows—if she discovers that I saw, she'll kill me. I saw her impale two of the guards," she admitted, shaking.

"Oh, Gwen." Lancelot hugged her to his chest and rocked her gently as she cried. "I promise I won't let that happen. No harm will come to you… Your hands!" he gasped, taking the left one gently in his own and tearing a piece of cloth from his shirt with which to wrap it.

"No," she told him softly, pulling her hand away. "I have to keep working or we'll never be able to help them."

"Who has she taken?"

"Merlin, Sir Leon, Prince Arthur, Gaius, Mor-Morgana," she admitted, the tears returning. "She took my best friends. And one more—that poor page, little Galahad. He's so young, Lancelot, and he almost died protecting the king from her. If I know Merlin, he had some kind of plan before this went off the plot, but he got caught up in this mess, too. You—you won't believe me when I tell you what she did."

"Gwen," Lancelot began calmly, "the Queen of Camelot is a troll, assuming you meant that quite literally. If anything that preposterous has come to pass, nothing you can say will surprise me. That, and…" he took both her hands in his own, "I would believe you no matter what."

A wobbly smile graced Gwen's lips. "Careful, there. You never know; I could be a troll in disguise trying to trick you."

Pressing a kiss to her forehead, Lancelot smiled. "I don't think I could care would you looked like, as long as you were still you."

They hugged and stayed that way for a while, Lancelot gently rubbing Gwen's back and offering words of comfort.

"Why did you leave?" she whispered, he face hidden in his shoulder. Maybe he wouldn't hear her.

No such luck. "I thought you—and Arthur…"

Gwen laughed, which morphed into a hiccup due the buildup of tears and stress. "It's not like that. I missed you the moment I realized you were gone. But I was mad at you, you know. Disappearing without saying goodbye." She tilted her head back to look at him. "I thought I might never see you again. Promise won't do that to me this time?"

Lancelot pressed his lips to the undamaged back of her hand. "Now that I have hope you might feel the same, I don't think I could ever leave Camelot again."

As much as the blooming couple wished to rejoice in being reunited at long last, they had a kingdom to rescue.

Gwen had barely slept during the previous night. She and Lancelot had finalized their plans, but worry still nagged at the corners of her mind. She had to attend to chores in the castle or her absence would be notable.

She was barely able to control her outrage when the troll queen—who had reassumed her human disguise—addressed the high council and the knights. Of course, they had not seen her; she had captured or killed everyone who knew the truth. Except Guinevere.

"Kidnapped!" she cried in a dramatic falsetto. "It is a monstrous tragedy. The culprits must be found and their hostages returned immediately. What shall we do, my love?" she asked King Uther in a disgustingly simpering manner.

The king, who was far too calm in the face of such a serious crisis, merely smiled and directed his confused remaining knights to search all of Camelot.

"You there," he called out, and Gwen's head whipped up. He was addressing her of all people. "In Lady Morgana's absence, you will attend you my wife and ease her distress."

Katrina's face scrunched into a frown. "My lord, how very thoughtful—"

"Thank you, darling," he responded dreamily, leaning in to kiss her cheek. Gwen thought she might actually vomit.

"—but unnecessary." It seemed the troll didn't appreciate a human's touch.

"Nonsense—what with how upset you've become?"

Gwen smoothed her skirts to hide her own trembling arms and hoped that the faint cuts on her carefully-washed fingers would go unnoticed. "My lady?" she asked, curtsying with all of the dignity she could muster.

"Very well, go… pick some toadsto—I mean, fresh mushrooms. Yes. Those should do quite nicely for dinner."

Careful to avoid eye contact, Gwen scurried off and did as she was told, waiting patiently for night to fall so that she would be dismissed. By the evening, it was clear that the false queen was becoming increasingly annoyed at having someone near to serve her at all times. Apart from her creepy servant, Jonas, that was. Gwen could have sworn she caught him glaring at her.

"Yes, yes, you may go," the troll whined, waving her hand as if Gwen was a pesky fly.

Doing her best not to travel at a conspicuous speed, Gwen returned to her house and immediately set to work. Three of the shirts were finished, each as tiny and prickly as the rest. She hoped they would fit her friends, not that it mattered much at this point.

After another hour of bloodstained hands knitting together stinging threads, Gwen realized that she wasn't going to have enough for the sixth shirt. She would have to pick the stinging nettles tonight. Panic began to set in; the patch she had picked from nights before was plucked clean. She could only think of one more, in the farthest corner of the graveyard.

In the dead of night, Camelot's bravest serving girl crept to the outskirts of the lower town, guided only by the pale moonlight. Thankfully, tonight was a full moon, and she could see the plants quite clearly. Carefully, she picked as many as she could, stuffing them into the small basket she had carried along.

As soon as she was done, Gwen carefully made her way back to the entrance of the graveyard when a guard stopped her in her tacks. She froze, unable to process what he was saying.

"Are you alright?"

"I'm fine," she lied, in what was hopefully a convincing manner. "Just—visiting my father. It's hard sometimes."

The guard smiled sadly. "Tom was a good man. We all miss him. He made this sword for me." He peered at her basket. "You brought him flowers?"

"I… couldn't find any. Figured these would have to do."

Sir Roderic, no matter how friendly, did not appear to sense that she did not want to be bothered. "It's not safe to be out alone at this time of night. Please let me escort you to your home."

"Thank you," she replied softly through her teeth. To her surprise, they made it without any trouble, but Gwen gnawed at her lip in worry. What if someone else had seen them? She had to hope for the best. The plan she and Lancelot had crafted was set for the next day. Now she just had to finish her part.

She spun and knitted until she collapsed by the dying fire, exhausted and parched. The dawn came far too soon, and with it, her worst fears were realized.

The moment she approached the castle, guards were dragging her into the throne room and setting her at the feet of the king.

"Sorcery," he spat. "You were seen at the witching hour, casting spells in the graveyard."

Gwen's heart thudded a mile a minute and she shook her head. "I visited my father's grave, that's all. You can ask Sir Roderic; he walked me home! Please, sire."

"Lies!" Queen Katrina stood at her bewitched husband's side. "Had it not been for my faithful servant, Jonas, you would have completed your mission! My lord, I'm willing to bet that this woman is indeed an accomplice of the kidnappers, if not the mastermind herself."

"She has been accused of witchcraft before," Uther conceded, rounding on Guinevere. "No doubt you escaped the last time due to your trickery. Morgana vouched for you, and you betray her by aiding in her kidnapping!? Camelot will not be beguiled again!"

Gwen looked around at the astonished court. She could try telling them what she had seen—that the queen was not all she seemed and that their missing friends were Katrina's unwitting victims. But what reason did they have to believe her? She had no choice but to play her part and cry, her tears spurred on by anger at the clear injustice happening to her yet again.

For the second time in a year, Guinevere Smith found herself in the cells of Camelot, sentenced to death by the pyre. This time, though, she had hope. If she could make it out before, she could count on her luck now. She had Lancelot and his promise to her. He would find the knights and Morgana so that they could be free. And he would save her life as well.

As the hours ticked by, she began to wonder if that was true. What if something went wrong? What if Lancelot had been caught? If they had found her, they almost certainly had found him. The weight of her impending doom dripped down upon her shoulders and settled there until the rays of morning's first sunlight hit her cell walls. She hadn't slept, nor had she cried. Instead she had sat and stared at the wall, steeling herself for what might still come.

She hoped, like she had once before, that someone might remember her.

Two guards with grim faces entered her cell and dragged her forth. They tried not to look at her; she knew they didn't want to do this, they couldn't. One of them was Sir Roderich. He looked so torn, so guilty. Guinevere couldn't find it in herself to be cross with him. He and the other guard weren't cruel men, and none of this was their fault. Left without another single tear to cry, and so she walked without resistance to meet her fate.

They gently pushed her her to a cart of hay, surrounded by gathered townspeople in outrage. Some of them called for her immediate death, spurred on by the hatred of magic at the heart of Camelot. Gwen felt almost sad for them, sad for the blindness they did not even recognize. There were a few that knew and loved her, shouting for the guards to let her go. They were easily fended off, however, and Gwen was half-shoved into the cart.

As she knelt on the hay, something caught her eye. In the corner of the cart, an uneven pile was partially hidden by the debris. She couldn't believe it; these were the shirts! She had finished all but one. As quickly as she could, she grasped the one unfinished, still attached to her knitting needles, and worked as fast and as nimbly as she could with her arms trapped in manacles. Just a little longer.

All the noise, all the thrown vegetables, all of the world melted away. If Guinevere was going to die, she was going to do so with the knowledge that she had helped save her friends. She was going to break the evil troll queen's spell on them if it was the very last thing that she did.

"See how the witch still works, hoping she can escape her fate with the aid of evil sorcery!" cried the queen, who stood in front while the king looked out lazily at his citizens. "Her treachery shall be burned away by fire!"

In the back of her mind, Gwen supposed that if she was going to die anyway, she might as well warn the people of the queen's own true nature. She opened her mouth to respond, but closed it right away. No. She had one more sleeve left. Just a little more…

Then, the most beautiful sight she had ever seen came into view, drawing her head up from the hay. Six swans descended upon the crowd, surrounding the cart with their wings drawn wide. Behind them was Lancelot, sword drawn as he fended off the guards.

"Stop!" he cried. "Gwen is innocent. It is the queen who is responsible for all of this!"

Knowing that the knights would never listen, Gwen seized her chance within the commotion. She tossed one of the shirts out through the gaps of her prison and it landed on one of the swans. The swan gave a final honk before it was engulfed in bright silver light. It disappeared and in its place, Sir Leon stood with his sword drawn.

"He is right! Stand down, men. The queen is the true sorceress here. She cursed us all and had us locked away."

The fighting had paused, so Gwen took two more shirts and threw them to the waiting swans. Morgana and Gaius appeared, both shocked from the incredible transformation. Next, Arthur and Merlin. At last, Gwen threw the incomplete shirt over young Galahad, and the boy reappeared—but he had a left wing instead of an arm!

"ALL OF THEM LIE!" the queen screamed, flying into a fit of madness. "Your king believes me! He will stand by me forever. This is all a trick to turn the kingdom against me!"

Uther stood and nodded dumbly.

"Father, she's an evil sorceress!" Arthur yelled, brandishing his sword. "She clearly has you under her spell. Knights of Camelot, your king is enchanted, he is not in his right mind. I temporarily take command and order you to seize her at once!"

The men didn't hesitate. If anything, they appeared relieved, now that there was an explanation to all this madness.

Katrina, realizing that her number was up, produced a knife from her cloak and held it to the king's throat. "TOUCH ME AND YOUR KING DIES, CRETIN!" They all froze and the troll queen cackled in her true voice, celebrating the momentary victory. "CAMELOT'S RICHES ARE MINE! YOU WILL HAND OVER YOUR GOLD AND JEWELS FROM THE VAULTS. YOU SHALL RUE THE DAY YOU—"

One well-aimed bow ended that insane diatribe.

Once the troll had died, her spell ended, and Uther awoke to a terrifying (and smelly) reality. If anyone asked Gwen, she would deny that she had ever giggled, even a little bit, upon seeing his horrified face. A little while later, when Gwen had been pardoned and released, she rushed to meet Morgana in a fierce hug.

"You saved us! Gwen, I can't believe all this has happened, what they tried to do to you…"

"It was nothing," Gwen murmured, but Morgana squelched her modesty with a look. "Well it would've been if not for your help," she whispered.

Morgana's beautiful moon-shaped face tightened with fear.

"It's alright. You should be proud of what you did."

"I don't know what you're talking about," Morgana hurriedly muttered, looking over her shoulder just in case any onlookers came too close.

Gwen shook her head. "If you hadn't brought me the instructions to make the shirts, we would still have that monster as our Queen. I don't care where you found it or what else was in that book, or whatever you had to do to get the information. I swear, I won't tell a soul about any of it. I swear on my life you can trust me."

Morgana relaxed into an easy smile. "If there's anyone in this world I trust, it's you, Gwen. You've proven your devotion to me and to our friends time after time. You know... you're become Camelot's heroine today. I'm sure the king will give you any reward you desire."

"I think I've already gotten it," Gwen murmured, glancing over to where Lancelot stood, her brown eyes softening.

"That's nauseatingly sweet," an amused voice piped in.

"Merlin!" Gwen rushed to hug yet another friend. freed from the terror.

The day continued with clean up, and of course repairs to the laws that the troll had managed to tamper with in its short reign. Gaius installed the remaining stinging nettle to Galahad's sleeve and returned to him a working arm. Not that the boy would ever live down his day as a partial swan. The king invited Lancelot to stay as a guard, still stubbornly refusing to let a commoner join the knights officially.

Gwen worried at her lip again, expecting that Lancelot would, yet again, decline due to his stupid bloody honor.

"My lord," the man in question answered, "I will gladly take any position here in Camelot, as long as it allows me to protect my friends—the people of this kingdom whom I cherish most—whenever and wherever they might need me."

And didn't that just melt everyone's heart? Morgana tried—and failed—not to laugh at Merlin as he fake-gagged at Lancelot's sappy declaration.

Uther wasn't in on the joke, apparently. He nodded with solemnity, as if it were absolutely normal to be so honorable. Then his gaze turned toward Guinevere. "You."

Gwen peered up at the king warily. She just wanted this whole debacle to be over and get back to life as it had been before. "Yes, sire?"

"Twice you have escaped the pyre, twice falsely accused, when on both accounts you served my dau—Morgana, and this kingdom, faithfully." He cleared his throat. "The crown issues you with not only a pardon, but an official apology."

It looked like it physically pained Uther to say so. Gwen chanced a glance at Morgana, who didn't appear to expect this any more than she did.

"Your father was a good man. He was wrongly accused and executed. We know now that his actions were taken in the name of love and fatherhood, and we honor him for that." The king had the decency to look at her in earnest just then. "You will not be first on the suspect list, should another magical attack on Camelot occur again. You will be given good faith, like that of any knight or noble, in trial. We have witnessed how magic can turn those closest together against each other in the attempt to find the true culprit. That is all."

To say Gwen was stunned would be an understatement. She did not gape, but her surprised jitters remained even when everyone in the room was dismissed.

"Typical," Morgana muttered to her. "You call that an apology? He took zero personal responsibility, as if it were 'the crown's' fault, not his own."

"It must have been difficult for him to do even that," Gwen mused. "When you're king, you have to maintain a sense of pride, I suppose."

Morgana rolled her eyes and grinned with glee. "Not that he has any left after marrying a troll!"

That night, Camelot celebrated a return to normalcy, all thanks to the heroic bravery of a blacksmith's king daughter. And the feast most definitely did not include roast swan.

"The memory of a good deed lives on" ~ The Old Woman and the Wine Jar, Aesop's Fables

Fin