A/N: Second in what will hopefully be a series of oneshots. Check out the other one: 'Belonging', and- as ever- reviews MUCH appreciated! :)
Moments
...of pity.
She was just a servant girl, and he knew it.
So why did he say nothing of her rise in status?
But of course, Arthur had made her brother a knight- of common blood, but a knight nonetheless, and his sister could not remain a lowly servant. Through her brother she had land, status, power…
So why did she burden herself with an old and broken King?
It wasn't expected of her, if anything the maids probably thought it strange. After all, the man had brought about the death of her father. Gwen herself didn't quite know; at first it had been for Arthur's sake, to ease his troubles as regency fell to him. He worried for Uther, that much was obvious- he ached for his Father to stride into the Court room, clap him on the shoulder and congratulate his skills at tax calculations.
She could see it in the way he tilted his head to the empty space on his left, in the stiff roll of his shoulders, in the small stumbles in matters of law; manifest was not his forte. He needed the man who knew the rules like the back of his hand. He needed the man who now spent his days rambling and shivering in his chambers, the man who kept the night awake with his screams.
Yes, it was for Arthur, definitely…
So why was she the one to rock the King back to sleep?
The first night hadn't been planned- it was more an accident, really. A series of questions, whispers and turns brought her to his corridor, listening to the echoing cries from within his chamber.
'What's wrong?' She had asked the flustered Merlin, only to watch his back disappear off to Gaius' room.
Oh, it had definitely been for Arthur: her thoughts and hopes were bent to save his well-needed sleep as she elbowed her way past the King's tentative night-guard, as she approached her writhing sovereign. She couldn't have known he would still at her touch; that he would quieten at her tones. The look on Gaius' face spoke much the same disbelief when he walked in on the fatherless maid cradling the weeping King.
It was for Arthur. It was for Arthur. It was-
Was this pity?
There was no denying it, or else she wouldn't follow his cries every night- soon she was there within moments. He would lie curled on his side and she would perch on the edge of the bed, one hand in his loose grip and the other hand on his shoulder as he mumbled drowsy words of Morgana and Arthur and Igraine and Magic.
She always stayed until his eyes slid shut in sleep…
Oh, there was no love in what she did for him- but there was something.
She could never replace Morgana- just as Morgana could never replace Igraine- and neither could she fill the hole that both women left… but he never protested against her presence, never once sent her away. Even as his days grew sane, the nights would bring Uther crashing back down- in light they never spoke of it, yet at night Gwen bore witness to the wounds beneath the scabs.
She was only doing it for Arthur, of course.
So why did her heart hold sorrow, just as she held the broken King upon his bed?