Despite the fact that Arthur had, essentially, asked Guinevere to grant him an audience—he certainly felt like he was the supplicant this time, even though he'd had intentions of being kind but firm and insisting she and Morgana return with them to Camelot as soon as Morgana's injury had sufficiently healed—he could not find the words to start the conversation.

So they were, simply, walking. At least the landscape of the ridge was favourable to such an activity, being mainly flat and sparsely treed, and offering a good view (from a military perspective) of the valley below to the east.

Over in the west, the sun was setting and it looked quite pretty to Arthur's eyes. He found the ambiance agreeable and was hoping it would do something to soften the heart of Morgana's maid, who did not seem as though she were in the mood to be talked kindly but firmly to.

He'd been considering possible scenarios in his head:

Guinevere. As your future king I must insist—

[No, that probably wouldn't go over well.]

As my subject you have no choice but to—

[Ugh.]

Guinevere. Morgana is not thinking clearly. I am relying on you to use your good sense to convince her to come back to Camelot.

"My lord?"

He halted his step, wondering had he somehow said his last thought out loud.

She was looking inquiringly up at him, a slight crease in her forehead. "You did wish to talk."

Arthur cleared his throat. "Yes. The truth of the matter is, Guinevere—" What was the truth of the matter, devil take it? He wished she were one of his men. It would be so much simpler to chastise her and have her get back to her duties. "The current situation is less than ideal, I'm sure you'll agree."

She appeared to give that a moment's thought, and then said, "Yes."

"The fact of the matter is..." It occurred to him he was beginning to sound somewhat repetitive. "Your departure from the castle was extremely—precipitous. We were worried, both for the lady Morgana, and for you. And as you are a citizen of Camelot" (yes, that was much better than calling her his subject, she could scarcely take offence to that) "you understand that it's my responsibility and my concern that you are safe."

"I understand," she agreed, nodding.

He began to relax. "Of course, the occurrence which—I assume—prompted you to leave was deeply unfortunate and I take that into consideration. I don't want you to think I am being unfeeling."

Guinevere shook her head gravely.

"Still, rather than leaving, you should have come to me."

"I did come to you." She gazed at him with dark brown eyes that were disconcertingly direct.

He took a breath, held it for a minute, then let it out. "I want you to know I tried my hardest to change your father's sentencing."

"My lord—"

"Arthur. Please."

"I don't blame you for his death."

He didn't know if he believed that. Especially recalling Morgana's gibe: she is not going to want to see your face.

His doubt must have shown because Guinevere persisted, "Really. I am not that kind of person."

"And Morgana?"

"She does blame you; but that is because she cares about me, I think, and also she feels for the many others who have had losses. Moreover, as good as she's been to me, she has a rather vengeful nature." Sighing, Guinevere paced a few steps away. "You should not have engaged her, today. Much less wounded her."

Arthur laughed in disbelief before he could hold it back, and followed. "I had no wish to fight! It's not fair to take on a woman. And I had no intention of injuring her."

"I thought you two had fought before? Morgana mentioned something about it."

"In practice, yes, many a time, but never in earnest. It seems she is taking this defection seriously—Are you cold?"

She was gathering her worn cloak about her shoulders. "No. A little."

"Do you want to go back?" Arthur unclasped his own cloak, stepped in and though Guinevere looked up, startled, and made to protest, he fastened it about her neck. Just in time he prevented himself from saying that his was warmer and of better quality.

That would have, to quote Merlin, sounded really prattish.

"Yes, unless there is more you wish to say?"

He hesitated.

Guinevere waited patiently.

"I don't want to lead like my father does, Guinevere, giving orders and caring nothing for the feelings of my people. So I am going to ask you, if it comes down to allegiance to your mistress, or allegiance to your prince..."

"I do believe that you care about your people, and I am glad for that," she said, very slowly. "If you order me to return to Camelot, my lord, I will obey."

It was a false victory and not what he was hoping to hear her say. He wondered if he had played that wrong, after all. Only time would tell...they weren't going anywhere tonight, in any case. "I see," Arthur said.

Dark had fallen and he offered her his arm, formally, for the walk back. She took it, her hand just the lightest of touches.

Gwen awoke in the morning to see Merlin, propped up against a tree and evidently supposed to be on the second watch, nodding off. Arthur was on the far side of the fire, sleeping sprawled out over the ground.

His cloak had kept her comfortably warm all night. She felt a little guilty for that.

The sky was overcast, and the air cool, but Gwen was well used to waking before the sun. Quietly, she rose, washed her face with a handful of drinking water and set out in search of inspiration for their breakfast. Last night's walk had led her to mark the location of several bushes brimming with berries, which she re-discovered and picked an apronful of easily, then hurried back to the campsite, where all were still asleep. Including Merlin. Gwen smiled. Well, she couldn't imagine that there was any danger lurking now that it was light. Let him sleep.

She rummaged through his pack in search of the stale bread that would need eating. While in the service of the village seamstress, a woman who had a powerful intolerance for any wasted edibles, Gwen had learned some practical techniques to extend the life of food. In contrast, after becoming Morgana's maid, and having occasion to visit the castle kitchens on a regular basis, Gwen had been shocked to see the often flagrant wastage. Food was rejected by the nobles on the smallest of pretexts.

Now, she put the ends of the stale loaf into the pot, added water and several handfuls of the crushed berries. Once it had steamed for a while, it would make a nutritious (if not visually appealing) mush, with which they could break their fast. She didn't expect it would become Arthur's new favourite, but then, it wouldn't hurt him to live temporarily like the majority of his people, making do with what there was.

Gwen hummed softly as she stoked the smoky coals of last night's fire with the remainder of the piled wood.

Merlin stirred and cracked open an eye. "Morning."

"So much for guard duty." Gwen made a face at him.

He groaned a little and rubbed his head. "I'm not used to it."

"Don't worry, Arthur's still sleeping and I won't tell."

He grinned and then leaned forwards, his expression fading into one of concern. "Morgana...is she all right?"

"I think so." Gwen looked back at Morgana's form, still enshrouded in the fur and underneath the shelter. Her sleep had been fitful for most of the night, but she seemed once again to have fallen into a deeper slumber.

Gwen looked back at Merlin, then decided to say what she had been thinking. "I must say, I didn't realize the two of you...had any kind of acquaintance."

"We don't," he said, too quickly.

She cocked an eyebrow. "Last night, when we returned from the walk, you both seemed quite agitated?"

His cheekbones were darkening in colour. "I, well, we just—talked. Trying to pass the time."

"Ah." Gwen picked up a green stick and stirred the contents of the pot.

"What about you?" Merlin wrapped his arms around his knees in an impish manner.

"What about me?"

"You and Arthur were gone for a while."

Gwen laughed. "Merlin! We barely said anything to each other."

Merlin widened his eyes. "Really."

"You know what I mean. It was just..." she concentrated for a moment, trying to define exactly what their conversation had been. "He wants us to go back to Camelot, all of us, together."

"And what do you think about that?"

"I'm a servant, I don't have an opinion." Gwen stirred the mush very hard.

He tossed a pebble in her direction. "That's not the Guinevere I know."

"Things are different now, Merlin—we're not out here on vacation." Gwen sighed. "I am here because there is nothing for me back at the castle. You are here because you belong with Arthur." She glanced behind her to ascertain Morgana was still sleeping. "So until they figure out what they want to do, we don't have a choice in what we do."

"Well," Merlin said, "No matter what happens, someone's not going to be happy."

"Mmm."

Breakfast, conducted shortly after Arthur awoke, was a quiet affair; and Gwen was amused to note that not only Merlin but the prince ate every last bit of what was offered to him, and no one commented on stale bread, or made any faces. Of course, this could be ascribed to pure hunger rather than any learning of manners, but she took it as a positive sign, nonetheless.

Gwen couldn't induce Morgana to eat any of the preparation, however; she said she had no stomach for it. That concerned her. A lack of appetite didn't usually go hand in hand with fast healing.

I need to change the dressing on her arm, too; and mix up a fresh herb poultice. Perhaps try a different combination of herbs? She would have liked to have been able to follow Gaius around at Camelot, observing his treatments of patients and absorbing some of his teachings. She didn't think she would ever make a really skilled healer, but it seemed smart to know, at least a little, how to doctor one's self, as well as provide some rudimentary dressings of this type to the injured. Gwen had never had occasion to lurk much in the physician's rooms but she'd always been fascinated by the myriad smells of the herbage, the vast array of potions and the various arcanery on display.

She wished she had Gaius' supplies now, not to mention his considerable wealth of knowledge. But now Camelot was behind her. Though was it? She had promised Arthur to return with him if he willed it; it was her duty. Whether he intended to make her fulfil that promise or not, she had no idea.

"Guinevere," Arthur's voice startled her out of her brief moment of reflection, as she was unwinding fresh linen for new bandages. "I'm going hunting, below on the plains. Do you want me to take Merlin with me or leave him here?"

Leave me here! Merlin mouthed from where he stood by the horses, giving them each a tiny quantity of grain.

Gwen chewed on the inside of her cheek and tried to maintain an even expression. "You must do as you will, my lord."

Merlin's eyebrows shot up in incredulity. Perhaps she was laying it on rather thickly. But Arthur seemed flattered by the meekness of her response. "Well," he said, buckling his sword belt, "it's not as if he'll be much use to you in the matter of protection. It would be easier to train a—" he turned and looked accusingly at his manservant-"an inebriated monkey in the arts of swordsmanship than him."

"Surely he can't be that bad," Gwen said, pressing her lips together.

"Oh, believe me, he is. The only thing he's worse at is...perhaps—hunting." Arthur frowned.

"Then you know what you should do with him," Gwen smiled.

"Mm. Yes. He can stay here. Have him collect wood for tonight. He's passable at that."

Once Arthur had saddled up and departed, heading off the ridge, Merlin relaxed. "He's right, you know," he said, cheerfully. "If there's anything more boring than training, it's hunting."

"Well, I hope he gets something, then there will be plenty to eat for once." Gwen had scarcely had more than a few spoonfuls from the morning's mush, either; she'd divided most of it between the men. "Help me with Morgana, will you? I need to check the wound."

Morgana lay quiescent and unprotesting while they crouched beside her. Gwen unwrapped her arm and inspected it. The wound looked slightly inflamed, and the surrounding forearm was somewhat swollen. Gwen mouthed, I think it's getting worse, at Merlin although his face showed that he'd already come to the same conclusion.

She quickly crushed some new herbs from the small quantity in her pack and re-dressed Morgana's arm, then spent some time sponging her mistress' forehead with a damp bit of linen, while Merlin looked on.

"We need more water," Gwen murmured, brushing hair out of her own face. "Did you see any on the way up?"

"There was the pond. It's a bit of a ride, but you can probably see it from the edge of the cliff, over there. Shall I go?"

Gwen considered. It seemed to her they should stay together as much as possible, given the dubious dynamics of various relationships; however, she really wanted to wash more than just her face and hands, impossible to do in the presence of the men, and this was a good opportunity.

"You know Arthur wouldn't want you to go anywhere by yourself," Merlin warned, after her moment of silence.

"He didn't say as such," Gwen retorted.

"No, but Arthur kind of likes people to read his mind. Or at least, he reserves the right to get angry at them when they don't."

"Well—" She had made her decision, the idea of a bath of sorts was too tempting. "I shall not be gone long, and if he does return before I do, tell him that you tried to stop me."

He shrugged. "All right, then."

"And keep Morgana still, in case she has any ideas of moving around." Gwen rummaged through her pack, took out fresh clothing, her small dagger and all the waterbags, and re-tied them up into a bundle. "I'll be back soon," she said, heading towards her horse.