-10-
Lancelot stood on the sidewalk, carefully watching as Guinevere maneuvered her small car and drove away. Only after she had turned the corner that he turned to his driver who stood a respectful distance from him. He boarded the vehicle and let his chauffeur know that he wanted to go to the office. He stared out the window and began to think about what happened earlier. Looking after Guinevere was a task he took seriously. Even when they were still together, he had always had a protective streak as far as she was concerned.
He thought back on the days before he left her that final time. She had been so happy because Elyan had come from service. Her brother had left home at 18 and enlisted in the armed forces, and as this came at the heels of a particularly nasty argument with their father, Elyan's sudden absence was devastating to Guinevere. He had sent the occasional letter, but was never home for birthdays, holidays, or their anniversaries of their mother's death.
Seeing her so joyful at Elyan's arrival was a stake through his heart, but he knew that he had to leave. They had been dancing around each other for months, and Guinevere's obvious attraction to Arthur Pendragon was just another thing that added weight to Lancelot's decision to end the connection between himself and Gwen.
He should have been braver, he supposed. He should have manned up and been able to talk to her face-to-face, but he knew how she would react: she would be protest and have wept and but then tried to reassure him that it was, indeed, the right thing to do. She would have been hurt, but Lancelot knew it wouldn't be because he was leaving, it would be because she would have thought that she was to blame.
But she wasn't. She never would be. Never, as far as he was concerned.
There was never any passion between them. There was attraction, there was respect, and there was love—but not the love that keep you awake at night. Not the love that lit a fire under you and consumed your being. The love between him and Guinevere was companionable, safe, reverent. And while it had been good in the beginning, it took little time for their relationship to stagnate. Lancelot knew that both he and Guinevere deserved something better.
Arthur Pendragon came into the picture quite by accident. Guinevere had been his date to a party thrown by the Du Lac group of companies, and as it was decreed by societal niceties to invite people with influence, Arthur and his father were in attendance.
Guinevere had been beautiful that night, but more than her appearance, it was her natural charm and warmth that drew people's eyes to her. Lancelot was a shadow behind her and he had been proud to escort her that evening.
His gut had churned when Arthur made a beeline for Gwen and introduced himself. He couldn't explain it then, but he wanted to smash Arthur's face in when he shook Gwen's hand. Lancelot had known the Pendragon heir since they were both children. He and Arthur ran in the same social circles, their parents were business associates, but the similarities ended there. The Pendragons favored industry, the Du Lac's business were closer to home. Maurice Du Lac, Lancelot's great-grandfather, was a self-made man; his background was in science, and with his medical discoveries, had made quite a name and reputation for himself. The Du Lac business was in pharmaceuticals, and his family were well-known patrons of the arts and sciences. He wasn't brought up in the cutthroat world of business mergers and hostile takeovers, but it didn't take long for him to realize that Arthur Pendragon's acumen extended beyond business. He saw Guinevere as something to be conquered, and it grated at Lancelot because, despite how he may have felt about their relationship, Guinevere's feelings were paramount to him.
He had told her of Arthur's reputation as a love-'em-and-leave-'em type of guy, but Gwen had scoffed and told him he had nothing to worry about. As time went on, however, it became more and more difficult for her to disguise her growing attraction to the younger Pendragon. Arthur had grown so enamored of Gwen that he actually took Lancelot aside and let him know that he had fallen in love with his girlfriend but would not do anything to break them apart. It rankled at Lancelot, but he saw how tender Arthur was with Guinevere. Even a blind man could see how deeply he had fallen for her. Guinevere, ever so mindful of hurting Lancelot, had refused to be left alone with Arthur. But Lancelot felt that he had lost the minute Arthur stepped into her life.
The spark that was missing between him and Guinevere was evident when she and Arthur were together; he had often felt like an intruder in his own relationship. She glowed whenever he was around; Arthur beamed whenever she was near him. It settled Lancelot's nerves knowing that she would not be lonely if he left; that Arthur would make her happy.
A few months after he left, he received news that Arthur and Guinevere were indeed in a relationship and he had smiled at that. He had always wanted Gwen's happiness, and it was obvious that it would never be with him. When news about their marriage reached him, he had said a small prayer of thanks. Gwen deserved the passion and love Arthur could give her. But soon, news of discord between the newlyweds and Uther had slowly become known to him as well. Uther Pendragon was a hard, unyielding man, not given over to sentimentality or kindness. That Gwen was someone without social pedigree or influence was not something that Uther would overlook, but there was little he could do because she was his son's wife.
He never knew how difficult it had been for Gwen until she asked to see him. He wanted to know why and she had confided that living with Uther's presence was a nightmare. More than being tyrannical, the man was a bully, showing the nastiest side of his personality when Arthur was not there to act as a buffer between them.
"It's awful Lancelot," she had whispered over the phone. "The things he calls me...it makes my skin crawl."
The fear and defeat he heard in Gwen's voice made him want to rip Uther Pendragon limb from limb. He flew out the next day to see her—wanting to know how to help the woman he still cared deeply for.
"A business," she had confided in him. "You know that small bookshop I always dreamed of having?"
Lancelot nodded. Gwen loved books, her small flat had been filled with them and her job as a librarian fed her insatiable need to be around them.
"If you could help me put together a business plan, I could find a way to finance the shop and I..."
Her voice had faded away and it took little for Lancelot to fill in the details.
"You wouldn't need to be around Uther."
She had nodded.
He asked if Arthur knew about her plans and she said no, he didn't press her for any more details. Gwen trusted him enough to be her business adviser and that was enough. That first meeting had almost been their last because Gwen had been difficult to get in touch with after that. The next news he had of Gwen was that she had filed for a divorce from Arthur. Lancelot had stayed in town, wanting to let Gwen know that he wasn't going to leave her vulnerable.
His instincts were right.
Lancelot had enough influence to be let in on some of the details of the divorce. Guinevere had pointed out irreconcilable differences, but his sources let him know that Arthur had been possessive of his wife—especially where he was concerned. He had apparently seen them together that one time and concluded that his wife was being unfaithful. Lancelot wanted to beat Arthur to a pulp when he heard that.
Their divorce had taken two weeks, helped along, another source told him, by Uther Pendragon. The old man had a heavy hand in expediting the process, wanting to remove her from his son's life once and for all. The proceedings were, thanfully, kept from the public and, out of respect for Guinevere's privacy, Lancelot kept his distance as well. He knew, however, that Arthur kept company with Mithian Nemeth. He thought that was odd. He knew Mithian from University, and was always under the impression that she preferred to be out of the limelight. This sudden association with Arthur—just as he was divorcing his wife—was very strange indeed.
Lancelot thought back on those days and was unable to hold back the grimace that marred his features. Gwen was dragged through such ugliness. What little he found out turned his stomach; the divorce may have been quickly dealt with, but its effects were far-reaching. Especially on that dark day when he received a call from Guinevere.
"Lancelot," she had said, her voice breaking in her grief. "I'm pregnant."
Miles away, in the sleekly decorated house that was once Guinevere and Arthur's home, two people were having a discussion of their own.
"How, how does that woman have control over Tintagel?" Agravaine raged as Morgana sat on a leather chair, her face an unreadable mask. "Uther loathed her; he wanted her out of Arthur's life—how does she get my family's estate?"
He turned to the woman who had been silent all throughout his tirade. Morgana held a single sheet of paper in her hand, as though she had been patiently waiting for the older man to stop raving so she could speak
"Calm down, Aggravaine..."
"Don't," Aggravaine's voice was cold. The single word shook as he tried to suppress his anger. "This isn't a time to ask me to be calm, Morgana. So help me, I will rid the world of that woman!"
Morgana raised an eyebrow.
"That would be good," she said. "If messy. We have to be smart about this, Aggravaine. Our hands have to be clean."
"Then how do you suggest we rid ourselves of that...that...bitch?"
Morgana raised her hand, indicating that she wanted Aggravaine to take the piece of paper she held.
"Read it," she said and waited a little more as the man took in the contents of the letter. She noted how his face split into a malicious smile as he absorbed what he read.
"Well, well," Aggravaine said. "Seems like Ms. Perfect has a few secrets."
"Correction," Morgana said silkily. "She has one big secret."
"A child," Aggravaine was practically apoplectic with joy.
"A little Pendragon baby secreted away, hidden from Arthur all these years," Morgana's sneering tone was hard to miss. "Imagine what he's going to do when he finds out."
She looked at Aggravaine who was practically dancing in his mirth.
"We won't have to lift a finger—Arthur's going to be the one to destroy her for us."
Morgana sat back in her chair and closed her eyes. The defeat of Guinevere was something she was going to enjoy.