Oh my lovely friends…thank you for being so patient with me! These past few months have been crazy, and I am now completely focused on my writing so hopefully you'll see a lot more from me this summer This chapter was hard for me to complete…I wasn't sure exactly how I wanted Gwen to react to her meeting with Arthur the night before. And then I realized she would most likely push it to the back of her mind for a while, to really process it later. She's a busy woman! But I didn't allow her that luxury ;) I hope you enjoy this little segment, MORE IS COMING I promise! Commenting is love Again, thank you all for reading! 3 Don't forget to check out all the Merlin goodies that are coming out of filming it's quite lovely to see fresh photos of my favorite cast again…September, darling, you can't come quick enough.
Morning came with quiet warmth and a gentle touch. Guinevere opened her eyes to streaks of sunlight coloring in the corners of her small home. She noticed small specks of dust suspended in the beams of sunshine; they seemed to be dancing, giving the cottage a magical feel. The corners of her mouth rose in a smile; breathing in deeply she stretched her arms and brought them back to rest under her cheek.
These are the kind of mornings I miss...the ones filled with hope and beauty.
Her dark lashes fluttered as she tried in vain to keep her eyes open; the brightness of the room was overwhelming. She ran her hand down the bottom of her nightgown, smoothing out the wrinkles and silently feeling every stitch along the hem. It was her Mother's handiwork. What her Mother had achieved in her embroidery and sewing Gwen had saved for many years; her own skill was nothing to scoff at, yet her Mother's work had a passion she just couldn't relate to in stitchery. So elegant was the nightgown, had anyone found Gwen sleeping they might have mistaken her for royalty.
Gwen felt the dress was plain enough to use, but in truth it was one of her most treasured items. She felt closer to her mother whilst wearing it; a small comfort in troubled times. Gwen willed herself to get out of bed, wishing she could lie there for but a few more hours. Once on her feet she continued to smooth down the gown, noticing once again that it needed tailoring. Her Mother was of a different build than Guinevere; but there was absolutely no chance of altering the dress, it was perfect for Guinevere simply because it was her Mother's.
Gwen peered out the window at the brilliant streaks of sunlight; it was going to be a beautiful day. Even so, she felt an ache in her skull. She had worked too many hours and slept too little as of late, and this fatigue was beginning to control her quality of life. "The existence of a servant," she thought somewhat wearily. Not so long ago she would day dream about not waking up alone. And though the dreaming didn't stop, she found that this once-possible-reality was now no longer attainable. Moving on was not an option; the constant presence of the man she almost built a life with was enough to keep her heart beating, and yet fill her with a sorrow no earthly force could take away…save for Arthur.
And here it was…her thoughts had finally come to rest upon him, though she had been avoiding the subject in her mind in an effort to not obsess over every detail. Their first talk in days, and he knew neither her face nor her voice. Had she really expected him to? Some wild part of her heart, untouched by the scars of love unrequited had hoped for a miracle. And yet his expression, his mannerism, his voice; all had been tainted by the heavy burden of pressure, anxiety and trauma.
He had been so full of sorrow last night, so vulnerable. In the beginning she had been afraid that he would become a completely different person; but the sad truth was he was exactly what she expected him to be had he been born into grievous misfortune and not radiant wealth and circumstance.
He was Arthur…but not Arthur. He was another depiction of Arthur Pendragon; and it fascinated her and frightened her at the same time. Who was he, really?
Guinevere's gaze was drawn to her hands; it was selfish to think he would have given up his kingdom for her. Yet that was what he was willing to do, wasn't it? What kind of life would his choice have forced him to live, had he never lost his memory? It was at this moment that Arthur's playful smile surfaced to the front of her mind; she could see the loving glint in his striking eyes, the sunlight reflecting off his impossibly blond locks, and smell the sweet aroma of metal, sweat and horses that she associated with him. She couldn't stop the wide smile that now consumed her features, nor the tender pride swelling in her chest as the image of this man grew brighter with every passing moment.
Oh, my love…how I miss you.
His image was scattered by a firm knock on her front door, to which she frowned in confusion. No one should be calling upon her this early in the morning…except someone in trouble.
Merlin!
Panic rose as she flew to the door, tiny hands fumbling at the large metal lock. Finally it opened and she found herself face to face with Arthur Pendragon. She gasped, hands flying to her chest as she realized her attire was less than fitting to greet Royalty…or anyone else for that matter.
