Disclaimer: This story is based on the characters, Arthur and Guinevere, portrayed in the BBC series Merlin. While I do declare my love for them as portrayed by Angel Coulby and Bradley James, I in no way am I claiming to own them.

Arthur stood gazing at his father as tears slowly rolled down his face. He was there when it happened, but he, even now, couldn't believe that his father lay before him dead. The King is dead. As he clenched his father's gloved and stiffening hand in his own, he heard the door softly creak open. Arthur slightly turned believing he would see Merlin, not able to stay outside one moment more. He should not have been surprised when his eyes discovered it was someone else. He didn't speak her name, but it resounded throughout his mind as his eyes connected with her figure as she made her way across the room, it was Guinevere.

She had been there before of course, as she had been the one to help Gaius and Sir Geoffrey properly prepare the King. He thought she would come and stand by his side, but she didn't, she hadn't even looked at him yet. She was always respectful. He had been there for hours and imagined Merlin and his father's own personal servants wanting to pay their respects, but all too afraid to interrupt Arthur's own time of mourning.

Guinevere, of course, was different. He watched her as she busied herself with straightening the red banners that lay under his father's body. He knew she had been worried about him, and also, that she would never say a word. Arthur felt a small smile coming to his lips as he watched her being so methodical. He wouldn't dare inform her that she was straightening an already very straight banner, just as he wouldn't tell her he could see her surreptitiously glance in his direction. She cared for him and wanted to make certain he was doing alright.

Slowly, still, she made her way over to him, but only to release his father's cold hand from his own, and return it to the hilt of his sword. Once she'd finished her ministrations, Arthur had a momentary fear that she would leave, but then she faced him fully and as he stared deeply in her eyes, she reached up and lightly brushed the tears off his face.

"Sire?" she whispered.

He struggled to keep the disappointment from showing in his own eyes. Even in an empty room with just himself, and his dead father, Guinevere would remain proper.

While she had no tears streaming down her face, Arthur couldn't resist bringing his hand up and caressing her cheek. "Thank you Guinevere." He wanted to run his thumb across her lips, but knew that would be highly disrespectful, well, he knew that Gwen would think so anyway. He brought his hand back down to his side instead.

"It's very late; Arthur spoke again, I shall be very upset if you don't stay in the castle tonight."

"Yes, I wanted to be near, in case I could be of any assistance, Gauis has made up Merlin's bed for me."

Arthur looked away but could feel her gaze steady upon him, he turned back to her and found that he wanted desperately to blurt out that his father's death was his own fault. He wanted to tell her about the old wizard and his use of magic. He wanted someone to blame him as he blamed himself. Even if he told her the truth of what happened in his father's chambers, Gwen would no sooner blame him than hug him in the open square. She'd be disappointed, he thought, but she wouldn't blame him. Truthfully, Arthur thought that it was much better for himself in this room with his un-moving father, than receiving hugs and commiserations from people who had no idea the King's own son had authorized magic to be used on him.

"Is there anything I can get for you sire?" Gwen asked. Her eyes were steadfast and un-blinking, but her voice was heavy with concern.

"No, thank you Gwen, I'm…" Arthur was at a loss to say exactly what he was, great, fine, bone-crushingly sad, a miserable fool…

He felt her hand as she grasped his, she'd straightened up once more and he knew she was about to leave.

"Good-night…Sire"

And there it was, not only the word, but the way she said it, proud and very strong... Arthur knew what she meant. The King is dead…Long live the new King.

He squeezed her hand lightly in return. He didn't want her to go, but he knew she wouldn't stay. He watched her curtsy and make her way back to the door. Those actions, he would have found irritating coming from her, but in this moment he found empowering.

"Good Night Guinevere, she had closed the door without hearing him say, My Queen."

The End