He could feel her body pressed up against his and he sighed contentedly. He turned and ran a finger up and down her exposed shoulder, chuckling when he felt her move closer to him. "I should go before they start looking for me," he whispered as she turned to face him. She opened her eyes and sighed.

"Will you come back tomorrow?" she asked, her eyes glinting.

"I shall try," he said, kissing her forehead. "The duties of being King," he quipped, laughing.

"Oh, poor dear," she replied, kissing his mouth softly. "If it helps, the challenges to being a witch are many…" Arthur frowned, confused.

"A witch, Guinevere?" He sat up in fright as she smiled suggestively. Before his eyes, her nut-brown skin bubbled until it was almost translucent; her eyes glowed and her entire body trembled. Arthur reached for his sword, but found that he could not move; his blood had frozen and his eyes were transfixed upon the sight in front of him.

"Strange, Arthur," a soft, lilting voice commented, "I would think you would recognise your own sister!" She laughed: an unpleasant, grating noise.

"No," Arthur whispered. "No, no…"

"Oh, but yes. And wasn't last night absolutely wonderful?" Morgana asked, breaking into a new fit of laughter.

As they rode through the streets, flowers rained down upon them; pink, purple and white snowflakes. The king stopped now and then to receive one from a maiden, doing his best to smile. He kept telling himself that they were not riding out to their doom, rather, to their victory, but he knew that was not true. The chances of his return to Camelot were slim indeed, and his people understood that well.

Arthur's head snapped up as he felt a tug on his horse's reigns. "What do you think you're—"

"'Tis only I," a maid's voice rang out. She was cloaked and hooded, but Arthur would know that voice anywhere. "Pray, do not speak my name," she whispered. "But know that I wish for your safe return. I will always love you." The woman curtseyed low and vanished amidst the crowd, leaving a dumbstruck Arthur. Someone pulled on his horse's reigns and the slow trot of the knights continued.

"Wait, I—" but he fell silent upon realizing that he could not go back. The crowd had all ready built up behind him and he knew there was no way he would be able to find her now. "I love you too," he breathed to no one.

He galloped all the way there, allowing neither his horse nor himself any rest. There was no question in his mind; he would get there in time. He would not allow for any other outcome. He dismounted swiftly and thrust his horse's reigns into a stable boy's hands. He threw open the door of the inn and shouted, "Where is she? I must see her!" The innkeeper seemed fairly shocked at receiving a visitor this early in the morning and he took a moment to answer the king's concerns.

"Sir, if you need a room, I would be more than happy to—"

"Where is she?" Arthur demanded, his hand encircling the innkeeper's throat.

"Of whom do you speak?" the man squeaked out. Arthur's grip tightened and the man gurgled before managing to croak, "upstairs!" Arthur let go immediately and flew up the steps. He could hear her before he could see her.

There was no hesitation as he pushed open the door and stepped inside. "Guinevere," he breathed, horrified at her condition. She was pale and sweating; there was a bucket at the side of her bed into which she had just retched.

"Arthur," she gasped, her lips parted in shock. "How did you—" She stumbled out of bed and almost careened into him. He wrapped his arms around her and she buried her head in his chest. "I cannot believe I am touching you," she rasped into his chain mail.

"I am here, my love," Arthur said, resisting the urge to cry. He kissed the top of her head and picked her up, cradling her in his arms. He laid her on the bed and quickly pulled off his chain mail and boots. He pulled the blanket over her and laid next to her, saying nothing, tracing the contours of her face in wonder. She, in turn, remained still, but moved her gaze along his face, trying to memorize everything about him.

"Please don't leave," she whispered. A hacking cough overtook her and she turned to the bucket to relieve herself. There were tears streaming down her face when she turned back to him.

"I should never have—"

"Don't, Arthur, please," Guinevere begged. "Please, just let me stay here with you!"

"I am sorry, my love," he said. Gwen reached out a finger and wiped the tears from his face.

"There is nothing for which to apologise," she said, smiling slightly. "Only, say you will find me, wherever I may go. Please, do not leave me as you did then."

"I vow to follow you," Arthur promised, kissing her mouth, even though it was hot and tasted of bile.

"No, don't!" she shrieked as he waded out into the lake. She coughed and spluttered, trying desperately to keep her head above the water. Arthur paid her words no attention, continuing to swim towards her. "Arthur, please, just listen to me; if you come any closer it'll kill you!" Arthur said nothing. "Arthur, listen to me!"

"I will after you're safe!" Arthur shouted, approaching her flailing form. She was slipping back into the water, tears running down her face. Finally, he reached out his hand and wrapped his arm around her waist, treading water.

"You must go," she insisted weakly. "Please."

"Do you honestly think I'd go without you?" Arthur asked, pulling her gently towards the shore. He thought he felt something catch on his foot, but he kicked it off, doing his best to ignore it. He swam as rapidly as he could, but whatever was following him was faster. He felt his head being forced under water, he heard Guinevere scream and he knew no more.

His tray made a scraping noise as it was pushed into his cell. Mouldy bread and stale water for the third time. The king finally swallowed his pride and ate it down, hunger getting the best of him. He still didn't know who was holding him captive, and the fact that it had been three days made him even more anxious.

He knew he would go mad form boredom if something did not happen soon. The guard at his door did not speak at all and the king was starting to think he was mute. He comforted himself in knowing that someone would have to question him at some point, or he wouldn't be kept alive.

Just as he was contemplating shouting at the guard until he answered, the cell door was opened and the guard escorted him out. The king was marched to a separate chamber where a cloaked and hooded figure waited for him. The figure waved the guard out, its face still turned away from Arthur.

"You're probably wondering why you've been brought here," the figure said, moving towards a window opposite Arthur.

"Yes, seeing as I haven't been told anything," Arthur said sternly.

"Honestly, I have no idea. I suppose I wanted you to be taken away from everything you know," the figure commenced, turning towards Arthur and stepping closer to him. "I wanted you to feel the pain you bestowed upon another many years ago. I would be surprised if you still recognised me, actually." Arthur knew that the figure was a woman, but he couldn't quite place whom.

The woman slowly lowered her hood and Arthur inhaled sharply. She was his Gwen, there was no mistaking it, but she was somehow different. Her eyes were ice cold and her face was altogether stonier than it used to be. Something had happened to her, something that had changed her.

"What happened to you, Gwen?" Arthur asked quietly after recovering from the shock of seeing her once more.

"Nothing you don't know about."

"I—" Arthur fell to his knees, horrified by the sudden realization of what he had done. "I can't…"

"Guard!" Guinevere called out. The man returned promptly. "Escort our guest out of the castle, if you please. We are finished here."

"No, please—"

"Ah, but Arthur," she said, tracing his jaw line with one sharp finger, "don't you see? I intend on making you suffer as you made me. We shan't meet again," she stated, turning her back on him once more after snatching her hand away from his face.

"No… No, you can't do this!" Arthur protested as the guard pulled him away. He struggled, but in his weakened state he was hardly more of a threat to the guard than a starving peasant. "I will always love you," he whispered.

He gasps and is suddenly afraid to move, afraid to breathe. He cannot feel anything for a moment, too disturbed by the thoughts and images running through his head: Morgana lying beside him, Gwen's cruel smile after she ordered him away, a purple flower floating in the air. He hardly understands what he has done.

The world moves by him and barely touches him, leaving nothing but traces of dawn behind it. The king shivers in his bed and slowly pulls his legs from under myriad furs. He stands, but falls back to his bed almost immediately. He shakes his head and pulls on a shirt and clumsily lights the fire. He freezes when a voice says, "Well, I am a blacksmith's daughter…" He turns slowly to look behind him, but he finds himself alone in his chambers. Of course he is; why would someone be in the king's chambers at this hour?

The king drags a seat over to the fire and attempts to warm his hands. He is exhausted but absolutely refuses to let himself fall asleep. All that will bring is more nightmares, more memories. He cannot keep living like this; it has only been one day since she left his sight and he already regrets his decision. If he is completely honest, he regretted his decision the moment she left the throne room. He can only try to forget what he said, what he did to her there. He rationalizes everything by not thinking about it, but now he knows he cannot do this for long. Eventually, he will shatter.

Had he forgotten everything good and beautiful about her? Her laugh, her warm touch, her ability to find good in everything, they way she looked at him, the way she said his name… She had waited for him for years, and this is what he did to repay her.

He is starting to think it would have been better if he had something to drown out his thoughts, something to dull the pain, when his door is carefully opened and closed neatly behind a dark figure. Arthur stands, upsetting the chair. His eyes widen in the fading early light, trying to make the figure out.

"You're up early," comes a mildly surprised voice.

"Oh, it's only you," Arthur says, disappointedly. He kneels to right the seat, then thinks better of it.

"Who did you—" Merlin is cut off by a glare from his king. "Ah, I see."

Though he will never admit it, Arthur is glad of an interruption. He clears his throat in an effort to fill the silence, then coughs. "I see you didn't bring my breakfast," he says.

"No, I—"

"It is fine. I shall need you to pack it anyhow."

"Pack it? Why— OH!" Merlin fairly shouts. He winks at Arthur and makes an almost comical effort to be subtle. "Shall I prepare our horses, then?"

"No, Merlin. I have to find her alone," the king says with finality. Merlin bows and exits the king's chambers, leaving Arthur alone with his thoughts. He cannot imagine what he will say to her when he finds her. He decides to think about that when he comes to it. Hopefully, somehow, she will find a way to forgive him.

He busies himself preparing; after all, he does not know how long he will be away. Perhaps not the most responsible thing for a king to be doing, but that thought cannot stop him now. Besides, Gwen was always the one with a sense of duty.

He packs and prepares himself in less than an hour, knowing that the longer he delays, the further away she will be. As he mounts his horse, he looks at Merlin for a moment.

"Good luck, my lord." Arthur resists the temptation to shiver; he gets nervous when Merlin actually refers to him by his accepted title.

"Thank you, Merlin," he replies. He has nothing more to say, his thoughts too occupied with her. Without another word, he kicks his mount into a brisk trot and makes his way towards her.