Gwen's mother had been a practical woman. "Crying never did anyone any good," she would say briskly as she dried Gwen's tears. Now Gwen notes that while her mother was right, at least crying doesn't hurt anyone either.
Gwen stands on the balcony outside her room, staring into the horizon as the rain pours down. Many miles away a war is coming to an end. A stupid war, a pointless war. A war that Arthur tried so hard to prevent. But King Ulric was determined to fight, and Arthur had no choice but to retaliate if he didn't wish to see his people slaughtered. How many have suffered for one man's selfish wish? How many are still suffering?
"My queen?" Lancelot's steps are soft and steady behind her. "My queen, you're soaked."
Gwen turns. "Hello, Sir Lancelot. Are you well?"
"Um, yes." Lancelot frowns. "Your majesty, you should come inside. You'll catch cold."
"It wasn't a very long war, was it?" Gwen asks.
Confused, Lancelot answers her. "No. King Ulric's forces were not as well trained nor as well led. He expected to overwhelm us with sheer numbers, but he had no head for strategy or tactics."
"And yet so many died, and so many more are grieving."
"That's the way with war," Lancelot says softly. "But the peace treaty will soon be signed and your lord husband will be home, so you should take cheer." He's trying to sound jovial but instead sounds slightly choked. Gwen almost laughs. Honest men should not have forbidden loves.
"You'll be happy to see my husband as well, won't you, Sir Lancelot?"
"I will be very happy to see him safe and unharmed." Now he's genuine. Lancelot is probably the only man in Albion who honestly worries for the safety of his rival in love.
Arthur will be weary when he returns. He will take no pleasure in this easy victory, not when it meant so much pointless death. Once Arthur is back, Lancelot will be more guarded. With Arthur will be Merlin, who will look at Gwen as he knows her heart better than she does herself.
Gwen thinks of Arthur's weary, haunted smile, Lancelot's distance, and Merlin's suspicion. She thinks of men dead and rotting on the battlefield, women grieving, and children abandoned. She turns the images around in her head until it's all too much.
"Don't cry, Guinevere." Lancelot puts his hand on her shoulder.
"It's only the rain." Gwen's voice is barely above a whisper. She leans against Lancelot, laying her head on his shoulder. He makes to move away, but she stops him. "No one will see us in this weather." Lancelot flinches. He doesn't want people to see, but he hates being reminded that they're doing anything people shouldn't see.
It tears him apart, the secrecy and the guilt. But as long as Gwen wants him, he will come to her. And Arthur will look away, taking care not to see anything that might condemn his queen or his knight. Merlin will silence himself for Arthur's sake.
It can't last forever. The balance is too delicate. Soon they will all be as lost as tears in the rain.
Lancelot kisses her gently, wiping the water from her face. Gwen thinks of King Ulric and the men who died for his stubbornness.
How many will suffer for this selfish wish of hers?