Hello all! Komodo here! I do not own this song or the characters listed below. If you want to get the full experience of the piece, please listen to I Believe in You by Michael Buble. I hope you enjoy my story!

Sincerely,

Komodo

Arthur Pendragon, the future king of Camelot, was trapped. What else was new? He was trapped by what was perhaps the worst monster he would ever face: love. Love was such a complicated mystery; sometimes miraculous and gracious, and sometimes worse than magic. Love could bring Arthur to his knees in a single instant or allow his heart to soar like the majestic eagles.

The blond prince descended his horse and led his beast to a peaceful lake. His father, King Uther Pendragon, had encouraged him to scout out the boundaries of his kingdom for any stray magicians. At 5'9" with a bright blond crop of hair, attractively fit yet slim, not to mention remarkably brilliant, Arthur delegated his men as scouts for a few peaceful moments.

Picking up a stray pebble, Arthur absent-mindedly tossed it into the nearby pond. In a way, he felt like that pebble: no control over his destiny or purpose. Between his father's increasing demands, Merlin's incompetence constantly ruining Arthur's good image, Camelot's needy people looking to him to guide their future, and even Morgana's pleading for his intervention, Arthur felt he had no control over anything. His destiny loomed over him like a gloomy storm covering a bright valley. His destiny dictated his every thought, his every action. Chained to these, he felt stifled. Imprisoned. Trapped forever.

He tossed another handful of pebbles into the lake, and mumbled to himself, "If only I could choose something about my life." After the dashing rescue for Gwen and her brother, Arthur had returned to Camelot a different person. He had seen the way her eyes danced when Lancelot had appeared. Guinevere's beautiful smile could light a cathedral; it could empower the weakest man with a renewed hope. He should know. After all, her confidence in his future propelled him forward. Just her kind words and warm smile motivated him and rejuvenated his courage to fight-which was why her sudden joy from Lancelot felt like a searing knife wound.

Yes, even Arthur had to admit Lancelot's remarkable swordsmanship, unspeakable loyalty, commendable bravery, and unfortunate background but worthy heart. Lancelot would make a fantastic knight-if eligible. Ufnortunately, Lancelot had accepted his fate for dishonesty and apparently had established a living fighting dangerous monsters for greedy filthy bandit leaders. Talented, brave, loyal, courageous, creative, and ambitious, Lancelot was a valiant man. He was a good man. Good enough for Guinevere, Arthur begrudgingly admitted. "She has the right to choose whom she wants. At least this way, she is guaranteed happiness. Lancelot can marry her. I can't. It's not in my destiny."

Suddenly, a cheerful voice interrupted his solace. "Not in your destiny? Prince Arthur, you can choose whatever you want!" Horrified, Arthur whipped his head back so fast Merlin thought the crown prince would snap his neck. "Sire, you're the prince. You'll be king one day."

If Arthur had been in a good mood, he certainly was not now. "I know that, Merlin. I'm not an idiot. Why are you here? Didn't I tell you to get firewood?" he snapped, crossing his arms. "That twig is not enough to start a fire, Have you been taking a nappy?" the blond mocked, rolling his eyes.

Merlin's goofy grin grew wider. He had served under Prince Arthur long enough to recognize his different moods. However, he had not seen this one before. "No, sire. Just finding a stick that matches the one stuck up your bottom." Watching as Arthur's face soon matched the brilliant red of his coat of arms, Merlin erupted in laughter. "Thomas has the firewood, sire. He sent me to find you for supper."

"I will have your head, Merlin!" It was truly a miracle that bumbling Merlin was not dead from Prince Arthur's recurring rage. "Do you know who you're talking to? I am the future king of Camelot! And you will show me respect!" Arthur glowered, pointing at his best friend. "Apologize. Now."

Even a secret magician knew when to choose his battles. Merlin uttered a quick, useless apology and frowned for a moment. "Is there something wrong?"

"Merlin-" Arthur began crossly, but his temper completely melted away. "I was just thinking-you know-about all I have to do."

Merlin lowered his stack of firewood and sat beside his friend. "Like what?"

Pendragon shrugged, tossing another rock into the lake. "It's like you said, Merlin. I'm going to be king. There is little choice in my life. Do you know what it's like having an incredible destiny looming over you?"

While Merlin watched his master talk, he slowly realized what was truly bothering Arthur. Usually, Arthur would not speak so freely around listening ears. She must be really bothering him. I wonder why Gwen did it.

"Are you even listening?" Arthur snapped. His hand smacked Merlin's head. "I am talking to you."

"How could I not?" Merlin rubbed his aching head. "You're so loud, you'd wake the dead." He retorted with a boyish grin. It was Arthur's silence that signaled him. Compassionately, Merlin nudged his friend. "Sire, Gwen could still marry you. You will be king one day. You could make that happen."

Arthur's deep blue eyes flickered with pain. Just the mere mention of her name sent his built frame into paralysis. "Merlin-" he began.

"I mean it, sire. It could happen. Just be patient."

"No," Arthur replied quietly. "Didn't you see the way she looked at Lancelot? Her rescuer? Merlin, she didn't even notice me. Didn't even believe I'd come for her." The admittance seemed to crush his heart even further. "Merlin, I cannot stop thinking about her. Every day, I wait to see her carrying around the linens, or I try to bring a smile to her face by making her laugh. Sometimes, I've even tried surprising her with a flower, and she has ignored all of it and jumped into the hands of the banished Lancelot without a second thought." The image of her dancing eyes beaming at Lancelot seared his mind. "I cannot live without her, but I cannot live with her."

"Perhaps she was just being grateful?" Merlin had not mentioned Lancelot's passing comment or Gwen's obvious disappointment. "You know what a kind spirit she has. Perhaps she was surprised to see him."

Ruefully, Arthur shook his head. "Can't you see, Merlin? She is in love with Lancelot. Before she got kidnapped, I could bring a smile to her face easily. Now I cannot get her acknowledgement! I-" his warm voice faltered a bit as he lowered his gaze. His gloved hand caressed a smooth rock before casually tossing it into the peaceful lake. "I-I just wanted a chance. . . a chance I will never get because I am Crown Prince."

Merlin affectionately yet awkwardly patted his friend's armored shoulder. "Prince Arthur, she knows of your bravery. She has told me several times. Remember when she helped out at the tournament? Remember how many times you have saved her, me, Morgana, or your subjects from different threats? She has seen how capable you are. You have proven yourself worthy." The taller boy also picked up a stone and chucked it towards the water. "I believe she knows."

"If only that were true."

A week later, Arthur paced in front of the wooden oak door. He was in the hallway, clutching a small daisy. He knew it was Gwen's favorite flower. He also knew precisely when she cleaned Morgana's chambers. Merlin had encouraged him to take a step forward and remind the beautiful handmaiden of Arthur's affections. At the time, it had seemed like a good plan…

All of sudden, the door jerked open and Gwen herself stood in front of the door, balancing the dirty linen basket on her hip. "My lord! I didn't see you there. I am sorry, but Lady Morgana is not in." Her beautiful smile lifted his spirits.

"Ah." The prince nervously cleared his throat and thrust the pitiful daisy forward. "This . . .this is for you. It's good to have you back home. We, ah, we all are glad that you are back home. Welcome home." His beautiful blue eyes glimmered with a spark of hope and scanned her face for an inkling of mutual feelings.

"Thank you. " She gracefully lowered the linen basket and smelled the dainty flower. "Daisies are my favorite. How did you know?" Gwen giggled and placed the flower on top of the basket. "Thank you, m'lord. And thank you for saving me. I-" her voice faltered for a moment. "I believed you would come. I hoped you would come, and you did. Thank you. I owe you my life."

Arthur's cheeks reddened for an instant before his programmed charm took control. "You're welcome. It . . . ah, it's good to, um, have you home." A few awkward moments passed, Arthur caught himself gazing into her beautiful eyes, taking those precious few moments to etch her every curve into his memory.

However, good things must end. "If you will excuse me," Gwen apologized sweetly, "the Lady Morgana needs clean bedsheets. Good day, my lord."

"Yes, good day!" Arthur quickly replied. "I need to go practice sword training. Ah, yes! I can hear Merlin's calling now. Excuse me, Guinevere."

The two awkwardly parted ways, Arthur grinning from ear to ear at his victory and Guinevere shyly smiling and smelling the daisy. She was pleasantly surprised at Arthur's gesture. Did he still feel for her? It had been weeks, months even since he had shown the first few sparks of interest. She had almost given up hope, jumping at Lancelot who still esteemed her worthy of love. But now, Arthur had surprised her with a thoughtful present. "He has learned manners," Gwen giggled.

Merlin sprinted around the corner, almost colliding with his friend. "Oh! Sorry, Gwen! Arthur is on the warpath. Like a prince needs clean underwear," he scoffed. His eyes crinkled with amusement. "Hey, where did you get the flower? Is it for Lady Morgana?"

"A-actually . . ." The handmaiden cleared her throat, jerking away the flower. "It's for me. Daisies are my favorite flower, you know."

"If that's true, then I gave you the wrong flower last week for your birthday." Merlin winked and skipped around the corner. "Must be a special someone."

After another laundry day completed, Guinevere finally collapsed onto her simple bed. While she wearily rubbed her eyes, her mind wandered to the handsome crown prince and his wonderful surprise. "Did he mean it?" she whispered into the darkness.

"Did she mean it?" Arthur whispered into his pillow. Her eyes had danced with that same delight he remembered. Her warm smile cheered his heart. "Does she still

like me?"

Despite his doubts, Guinevere fully believed in Arthur's potential. If any one man had the power and ability to change Camelot into something far greater, Arthur Pendragon was the man. He had the courage, strength, loyalty, and bravery necessary. Unlike most spoiled royalty she had served, Arthur showed true compassion for his people. Even though he was still prideful-he had every reason to be-Gwen realized his potential for becoming perhaps Camelot's best king. Arthur was handsome, witty, creative, and battle-smart. He had won quite a few heroic feats, and even rescued her from that bandit leader. If anyone could protect Camelot, it was Prince Arthur.

Guinevere rolled over, getting comfortable underneath the blanket. It was because of Arthur's wonderful future that sometimes she doubted his feelings. Surely a man with his impressive destiny did not need her love. Surely the crown prince of Camelot was going through a phase He was just wanting what he could not have. Someone more suited would come along and then Arthur would marry her. It made sense. Arthur needed someone else . . . for Camelot and her future. Happiness was not allowed.

A wise man once said if a person truly loved something, he would set it free. Guinevere contemplated this truth, staring at the dark wall. "What's the use, it's not like I'm going to sleep anyway-" Fumbling for a match, Guinevere lit the frail wick beside her bed. For a moment, she was swallowed by her imagination. Her dark eyes gazed into the bouncing flame as her mind wandered toward Arthur and Lancelot. Her heart felt torn between her two conflicting emotions: guilt and hope.

Her mind traveled back towards that precise moment during her rescue when Arthur caught her gazing at Lancelot. Of course, the moment Arthur appeared to save the day, her guilt seemed to swallow her completely. Trying to mask it, her adoration for Lancelot's bravery soared. Giddy, giggly, and uncharacteristic of her usual level-headness, Guinevere had accepted Lancelot's feelings for her as a genuine compliment: someone whom she could marry was in love with her. Love was a fixer-upper, right? Lancelot was a good man! In fact, he was valiant, brave, courageous, witty, clever, handsome, loyal, and dependable. Any woman in her right mind would grasp at the privilege. But her mind traveled forward to Arthur's pained eyes.

His betrayed expression sliced through her confidence. Her guilt wracked her body, plagued her dreams constantly. But what about now? What of this glimmer of hope?

Did Arthur truly love her?

Arthur paced about in his room, occasionally glancing out the window towards Guinevere's house. Her giddy smile fluttered around his distracted mind. Was he in love? Absolutely. Might this escalate into marriage one day? Maybe. Possibly. But for now, Arthur was content to hope. Gwen continued to remind him of his destiny: to protect the people he loved. But the hard-working beautiful handmaiden also reminded him of his promise to himself: to never give up.

Perhaps one day. There is still hope. Guinevere is the light worth fighting for.