It was strange how things changed. Dinner with Lady Isabella usually meant light, meaningless conversation followed by an energetic making out session. Arthur quite enjoyed them, usually. This time, all he could think of was Guinevere, the pain and confusion in her eyes, and her pleas of innocence.
As usual, Isabella was all decked up and when Arthur arrived at the table, she stood, smiled coyly and pressed a kiss warmly against the side of his lips. A month ago, Arthur was all ready to marry her. They shared an attraction and while, they seemed to share little else, it mattered little to Arthur. Yet now, even as she smiled sultrily at him, Arthur found himself thinking about Guinevere and how even in their brief conversations, he felt more of a connection to her than he ever had to Isabella, someone he'd grown up with.
It had been two days since he brought Guinevere dinner and news of their marriage. That evening, she had sent thanks through Merlin, who he told the guards to allow into her room, for arranging for the visit to her father. He hadn't heard from her since as he kept himself busy with the knights' training. Merlin was also constantly annoying him by insisting he thought the princess was being framed. He had to threaten Merlin with more chores to get him to shut up. Yet he couldn't get that thought out of his head, the possibility that Guinevere might have been framed. It felt like a life line had been extended to him and he had only to grasp it. And so he had asked Isabella for dinner, an invitation she eagerly accepted.
As he settled down opposite Isabella, it briefly crossed his mind that she might have gotten the wrong impression. Guilt settled in his heart. While they had never discussed it, Arthur knew Isabella expected to marry him and since his arranged marriage, he hadn't had the time to speak to her about it much.
"Oh Arthur, we haven't had time alone since you went off to war. Isn't this nice?" Her leg rubbed against his under the table. Awkwardly, he shifted in his seat. For all his talk to Guinevere about keeping Isabella as his mistress, it wasn't something Arthur particularly wanted.
"Isabella," he said gently. "I'm sorry. I've been busy."
"With your upcoming wedding, I suppose." Her lips pressed into a tight line and she looked away.
Arthur nodded. "Among other things."
As Merlin placed their dinner in front of them, Arthur allowed Isabella to dictate the conversation, hoping that this would make her comfortable. Like before when they used to dine together regularly, Isabella dominated the conversation with news of the things happening around the castle, things Arthur usually never noticed.
" … and of course with Martha busy with her sick child, Sybil is now ruling the kitchens."
"Isabella." Dinner was almost over and they still hadn't talked about what he wanted to talk about. "I need to ask you something."
Perhaps it was his tone but the smile on her face faded and she straightened up in her seat. "This is about the princess isn't it?"
He should have known how perceptive Isabella was. At least he didn't have to beat around the bush. "You told my father that she had an agreement with Cenred. How did you know?"
Isabella leaned back and folded her arms. "I was down in the dungeons – your father wanted me to talk to one of the maids we captured – when I heard two of Cenred's men talk about how victory would soon be theirs because of Acirith's cooperation. Do you think I made it up?"
"No. No. I just … Guinevere just doesn't seem the type to do something like that. Is there a chance the man was lying to you?"
Her eyes narrowed. "What's with you and the princess? I thought it was just a marriage of convenience."
"It is. That's all it is. I just need to know what kind of person I am marrying."
"I don't know if the men were lying but it played out exactly as he said it would didn't it?" Her voice cold and brittle. "What happens to us? I never thought the king would make you marry the traitor."
"He has his reasons," Arthur muttered. Hope he never knew he had that the princess was not a traitor crumbled inside him.
"And us?"
"I hope we will continue to be friends. You have been a good friend, to me and to Camelot." He stood, wanting nothing more than to go back to his room to wallow.
"You like her," Isabella stated flatly as she stood up as well. "She betrayed Camelot, Arthur. She's a conniving, cunning person who doesn't care about you or your kingdom. Don't forget that."
"You don't need to worry about my relationship with her," he snapped, his anger at her words taking him by surprise. "I'm sorry. I shouldn't have – look, Isabella. I know that this isn't what we both want but I don't have a choice."
"Am I to be your mistress?" She tilted her head up, but Arthur could see the hurt in her eyes.
Reaching out, he touched her cheek. "I think you're worth more than that, don't you?"
"Yes." She blinked, then looked away. "I think we've said all that needs to be said. Be careful with the princess."
"I'm sorry, Isabella," Arthur said again, before he walked out of her room, closing the door on that part of his life.
Of course Merlin was hovering outside.
"Heard everything did you?"
"I …"
"No. There's nothing left to say. We have to accept that Guinevere did what she did, as painful as that might be." Arthur shook his head when he realised he was really talking to himself. With Merlin's blind optimism that Guinevere had been framed, Arthur had allowed himself to believe, hope even, that maybe she was really that girl he had gotten to know out of Camelot.
But she wasn't and the hurt was almost physical.
At least Merlin looked almost as miserable as him.
Before the wedding, the king had summoned her before him and warned her to play the part of blushing bride, suggesting that her father would be horrified to learn of her dishonourable actions. The shock might even incapacitate him further. Guinevere supposed that she should be grateful that her father had not been told of the accusations against her but she couldn't muster up any positive feelings for the King.
She practiced her smile in the mirror.
"Guinevere, I am so sorry for putting you in this position." Her father's voice was a weak rasp and his hand limply grasped hers.
"No. Arthur, he's a good man. It will not be a hardship to marry him." She stroked her father's hand and smiled the way she did in the mirror that morning.
"Do you think you can you love him?"
Guinevere paused, taking in the concern and worry in her father's eyes. Had he more strength, he would probably have held her hands tighter.
"Yes," she whispered, her lips trembling slightly as she realised that it was true. It would be too easy to love him but he would never care for her, not when he believed she had betrayed Camelot.
Her father's eyes closed and peace filled his face. "Good. I want you to be happy."
She sat beside the bed till her father slipped into sleep. Merlin had told her regretfully that he didn't have much longer. Soon she would be all alone in the world, tied forever to a family who hated her.
"Princess? You need to return to your room." Nodding at the guard, she pressed a kiss to her sleeping father's forehead and left the room.
When she was about eleven years old, her maid had gotten married. She still remembered how excited Beatrice was. It was the best day of her life. Beatrice had told her, face flushed with happiness, eyes twinkling with good humour. You never forget your wedding she was told.
As Mary pulled out the multitude of pins in her hair, Guinevere stared at herself in the mirror. She was not flushed with happiness, her eyes were not twinkling and to be honest, she could barely remember anything that happened. There was a vague memory of Arthur taking her hands, her saying "I do" and the perfunctory kiss pressed on lips. Then everyone was cheering and clapping and she put on her practised smile as she allowed Arthur to lead her through the excited crowd. The moment they were alone, he dropped her arm and walked away without a backward glance. Merlin smiled sadly at her before trotting after the prince.
And now, it was their wedding night and Mary was all aflutter preparing her for it, fussing over her night dress and her hair.
"You are gorgeous. The prince wouldn't be able to resist you," giggled Mary as she gave Guinevere's hair one last comb. "Shall I inform Merlin you are ready?"
She wanted to say no but she knew that would arouse suspicions. "Yes. Thank you."
As Mary disappeared through the door, Guinevere took a deep breath. What would Arthur expect from her? She knew that eventually they would be expected to produce an heir. Her nerves in a knot, she waited for her new husband.
It seemed forever before the knock came. Although she had been anticipating it, the rap on the wood still startled her and she scrambled from her seat in front of the mirror and positioned herself in front of the windows, as far from the door as possible.
"Princess."
Her mouth fell open but she found herself unable to produce any sound. Instinctively, she moved closer to the window. He looked as uncomfortable as she felt, his eyes upon the floor.
He moved slowly towards her. "I'm not going to hurt you." His voice was strained but he raised his eyes to look at her. "We don't have to do anything."
"Alright," she breathed, relaxing slightly.
Silence filled the room and she tried to think of something neutral to say. She suspected Arthur was struggling to think of the same.
"How are your sewing skills, Guinevere?" Arthur asked suddenly, after several long minutes of awkward silence.
Relieved at his choice of topic, she nodded. "They are passable."
He smiled slightly and settled himself on one of the chairs in the room. "Well then, hopefully you can teach Merlin a thing or two. Look at the mess he made with my shirt. Not that he's a particularly good student - you might find that he'll be a trying one. Stubborn and all thumbs."
"He's a fine manservant. He's very loyal to you." It seemed only right to stop hovering near the windows and sit on a chair near him.
This elicited a slight laugh from Arthur. "That may be so but don't tell him I think that."
"Why ever not? All you do is reprimand and mock him."
"I'm not that bad." A slight pout formed on Arthur's face although laughter remained in his eyes.
"No, no. You're not. You're a good man Arthur and I suppose if I had to marry anyone, I could do a lot worse."
"You could." He laughed bitterly. "You might have had to marry my father."
Guinevere shuddered at the thought. "That would have been a nightmare."
"It would have been." His blue eyes were locked on hers and for some reason, he seemed to have moved closer to her. When his warm hand slipped over hers on the table and his head dipped, she closed her eyes. The kiss was barely a brush and she must have grumbled because Arthur chuckled and pressed a longer, deeper kiss on her. Only their lips and hands were touching but she felt her whole body tingle with expectation.
Eventually the kiss ended and he lifted his hand from hers and cupped her face, his eyes gentle, his thumb tracing her bottom lip. "Tell me why you did it. I need to understand."
"I didn't ..."
"No. Don't lie to me." His hand dropped and he sighed. "Guinevere. I have been thinking about this over the past few days. You must have had a good reason to do this. Maybe you were under a lot of stress. Maybe your council forced your hand. Maybe you had no faith in me. They don't make it right but at least it'll help me understand."
"There is nothing to understand! I didn't betray Camelot!" Pushing her chair back, she stood, annoyance building in her. "What is so difficult to understand about that?"
"What are you still hiding Guinevere? Why are you still lying?" Impatience coloured Arthur's voice as he got up and stood in front of her.
"Listen to me. I am not lying. I did not betray Camelot." Her pounding heart was no longer due to her desire for Arthur, but anger that was coursing through her veins.
"How do I learn to trust you if you keep lying? You're my wife now for goodness sake! At least be truthful to me."
"I am being truthful."
"Does it make you feel better to cling to this lie?" he growled.
When she realised that nothing she said would make him believe her, she said nothing, staring defiantly at him instead. In the face of her silence, he shook his head, sighed and returned to his seat. She retreated to the window and stared out of it.
For the next few hours, until it was deemed suitable for Arthur to leave her room, they waited in tense silence.
He left without a word.
She didn't sleep a wink.
AN: Once again, thank you for the comments and feedback. :)
