All Steps Lead To Gwen
Arthur wrapped his arm around his love's waist. She pressed herself into his chest. Tears were falling freely from her eyes, soaking his shirt. He took a breath.
"You're okay," he whispered, "You're alright."
Still clutching his sleeves with her fingers, individually intertwined with the fabric to the point of being woven in with the fibers of his shirt, she lifted her eyes to meet his. Scared. He didn't even have a moment to try and stop them – faced with her tears freefalling in a way he had never seen before; he all at once realized his cheeks were wet too. She let out an audible sob, her body quaked. He took more of her weight upon himself, briefly relieving one forearm to wipe away his own tears once they began to obscure his vision. He needed to see her. She was breathing again. But shallowly, quickly, as though the room might, at any time, suddenly be at a loss for air. His thumb then reached to her cheek and, brushing up against it, removed her tears one at a time.
The corners of her mouth turned up ever so briefly, so slightly: a hint of his Gwen beneath the pain. This gave him permission to exhale and for one single second he didn't worry, he didn't plan, he wasn't king, he just relished the warmth of her swollen belly pressed against him. For that moment, and that moment only, he could truly protect his wife and child.
"Alright," he murmured into her neck, "Step One: Bed." He scooped his arm back between her shoulder blades and gently turned her to face the bed. She whimpered, her lip quivering. Though the bed was but a few yards away, Gwen froze in fear for sure her knees would buckle before she reached it. Arthur felt her apprehension and cupping her chin, detailed his plan.
"One step at a time, love. Only one small piece of the puzzle at a time, alright?"He saw a glimmer of agreement in her eyes. "Step One is we get you to the bed where you can relax and be comfortable."
"I don't know if I can – "
"Guinevere," He started, watching her eyes well up again, "Of course you can. You are so strong."
With his arms supporting her and her arms wrapped protectively around her stomach and holding him, respectively, she took one hesitant step towards the center of the room. She paused, calming her own nerves. He waited for her. She slowly took another step, and then another, until finally after it seemed as though an eternity had passed, they reached the bed they shared as husband and wife.
"Ready?" He asked. He took his answer as her arms around his neck, slid an arm under her knees and lifted her onto the bed. He had barely touched her down to the mattress when she groaned again.
Arthur had begun to interpret Gwen's growls as varying levels of discomfort and pain the few months prior. Before her labor had set off in full force there had been the fatigue, midday naps and courtyard fainting; the backaches, dull and nearly incapacitating; the kicks from their offspring, exhilarating and bruising. In this moment, though, he knew it was something more severe. Her arms tightened around his neck, her thighs and calves locked themselves up, and she held her breath. Arthur held her there, pinned between the comforter and his wife, and simply stayed and breathed for her. As the contraction released its hold on Gwen, she looked to him –
"Step Two?" She asked, hopefully.
"One at a time, my queen." With that he relinquished her fully to the bed and constructed as kingly a support system of pillows as there could ever be behind her. When he had finished, he sat beside her, taking her fingers to join his own, one by one. "Now Step Two: Breathe."
"Yes, my lord."
He kissed the crown of her head as she laid it on his shoulder. He then draped his arm over their soon-to-be-born child. They stayed like this, melting into each other for several minutes.
"Arthur,"
"Darling?"
"I was just wondering whether there might be a flaw in your plan."
"I don't think so." Arthur let out a little of his princely ego.
"I should think step two would have been notifying my lady's maid and, in all probability, the midwife that I am very clearly, undeniably in labor."
Arthur's head shot up.
"Bloody hell." He mumbled. "Bloody bloody hell!" He worked his way up to a screech. "Gwen, what in the name of holy hell is the matter with me? I've completely forgotten the most important piece of it all! I'm bloody worse than stupid Merlin! I'm an absolute idiot!" He jumped up and paced the room as though trying to erase his stupidity. "I'm terribly sorry to be the one to break the news to you, Gwen, but you're married to an idiot! Hell, I need to apologize to all of Camelot – 'your King and ruler is a damned moron!' If my father were here to see me, I swear he would –"
"Arthur,"
"No, no I'm going to go right now and tell...everyone, I'll just tell everyone I see and someone will then tell the proper person, because clearly I am not capable of that!"
"Arthur!"
"Yes love? Sorry love. What is it?" He looked to the bed and found Gwen, eyes sewn shut, back arched violently, her right hand planted securely at the base of her belly, her left grasping for his, but finding only blankets. Once more she cried his name in increased depth of agony,
"ARTHUR!"
The sound and the sight tore at him. 'Fix it!' he cried inwardly, but to no avail. His feet were no longer taking orders from his brain. At last he dislodged himself from the floor and launched himself towards the bed, claiming the hand he could feel was aching for him.
"Gwen…" He cooed, "Gracious Guinevere…"
"Arthur" Her voice was soft, pleading now. Breaking.
"Guinevere. My love." He enveloped her hand with both of his own, planting a kiss. Then, sliding a hand soothingly over her abdomen, he drew it down to meet hers at the base of their child's temporary home; unnervingly temporary at the moment. Arthur noted that the pains seemed quite clearly to be coming faster.
"I'm going to get the midwife, love. And anyone, everyone, anything else you need. I promise to return immediately. You hear me, Guinevere?" She nodded.
"And Step Three?"
"Steps Three through One Thousand are for you. All my steps lead to you, Gwen." He leaned in slowly and softly, tenderly touched his lips to hers. She sank into his lips delicately as though it was the very first kiss between a young boy and a girl, unsure of what was to come.