Fields of Gold

Note: Arwen fluff, perhaps a little bittersweet. Older Arthur looking back on a defining event with Gwen. Inspired by lyrics of Sting's 'Fields of Gold'.

Fingers worn with age and calloused from years of wielding a sword traced the portrait of beautiful, dark young woman. Clear sapphire eyes lingered on the delicately depicted wildflowers that were woven through long, curly hair. Those eyes misted as they recalled fond memories of a time long past but was as fresh in his mind as if it had been yesterday.

It had been a glorious summer's day and a bored Prince Arthur had decided to go for a wander into the surrounding countryside. He had meandered aimlessly, enjoying the simple pleasure of feeling the sun on his face and for a while at least, he could pretend to just be 'plain old Arthur'. The sun shone down on the wheat and barley crops of the farmland and its bright light reflected their rich yellow tones to make them appear as though they were fields of gold.

Arthur would have admired the colours and moved on his way had his attention not been captured by the sight of a lone feminine form in the middle distance, dancing and twirling in carefree abandon amongst the long stalks of one barley field. His heart skipped a beat. He would have recognised that form anywhere as that of Guinevere, maid to his father's ward, Lady Morgana.

Her long dark hair, usually tamed by being held back by simple ribbon ties now hung loose in unruly curls which moved with a life of their own in time to Gwen's movements. Arthur moved closer as if pulled by a magnet and he could see that her eyes were closed and his ears detected a tune that she hummed to herself. In that moment, Arthur knew that she was the most beautiful creature he had ever seen and he lost his heart completely there and then. All he could do was stop and stare transfixed.

Gwen had always adored summer for as long as she could remember. Even as a child, she would take every spare moment and opportunity to run out barefoot to nearby fields so she could feel the warm earth beneath her feet, wriggle her toes in the long grass and forget about mundane daily chores. Now that she was an adult, those opportunities were even rarer and each one had to be seized with both hands and this had been one of them. Morgana had not required her services that day and Gwen had practically skipped out of the city before kicking off her shoes to enjoy feeling the closeness of nature.

A gentle breeze had stirred the barley crop and made it seem as though the field undulated with liquid gold. She couldn't resist letting her body sway in rhythm to the motion and soon she began to hum a harvesters' tune which she had learnt as a little girl. With nobody else in sight, Gwen took to dancing to the tune as if she were one of the Elven princesses of her childhood fairytales.

When Gwen finally stopped dancing and opened her eyes, she gasped in embarrassment. There stood the handsome Prince of Camelot staring at her as if she were some demented whirling dervish. Ever since that first kiss and then the kiss that broke Arthur's enchantment, they had been tip-toeing around each other being either excessively formal or avoiding all contact. This particular situation belonged in neither category.

"Guinevere." He breathed her name in wonder and closed the distance separating them with just a few long strides.

Gwen's brain barely had time to register the movement of Arthur's head bending down to touch his lips to hers. Her body melted and moulded to him as his strong arms encircled and drew her close.

Arthur felt Gwen's body rise and press tight to his. To him, the summer sun could not hope to compare against the warmth of her love nor the heat of her kiss.

That was the day they let themselves fall to the warm earth and truly became lovers, bodies and souls caressing just as the wind caressed the barley. That was the day Arthur promised his heart would have none other than her, that only she would be his bride. He had promised to show humility to all who served with him and for him and although, he had not always been successful at the appropriate times, Arthur had always made amends for any oversights.

The children she had borne him had long since grown up and they were rulers in their own right with children of their own. In them, Arthur could see her distinct traits of straight forward generosity and a forthrightness that was tempered by a gentle disposition.

Arthur touch the portrait with a soft kiss and replaced it on the table at his bedside before snuffing out the candle and laying his head on his pillow.

Guinevere, was and always would be the love of his life.

Note: left the end a bit ambiguous as to whether old-age had got to Gwen or if it had followed the French version of the legend where she had run off with Lancelot. I haven't made up my own mind about it yet so I will also leave the choice up to you.

Reviews gratefully received x