The brick is heavy and rough in my hand, familiar as I lift and set it into place with a satisfying thud. I slather a measure of mortar on the wall and another brick appears in my hand. I set it into place. The wall is high, and I place the bricks just above eye-level.
Mortar.
Brick.
"Arthur..."
Mortar.
Brick.
"Arthur..."
I pause in my work. Is that Guinevere?
Mortar.
Brick.
"Arthur, please..."
That is Guinevere.
Mortar.
"I'm here, Love," I answer, looking around. Surprisingly, I see her approaching on my right. Her voice seemed to be coming from another direction. She is floating gracefully, regally in her burgundy velvet gown and gold braided circlet. The picture of beauty. A true queen.
I set the brick in my hand in place and turn to face her, my hands outstretched as I walk to meet her. She curtseys prettily, and I nod deferentially in return, taking her hands. As I lift them to my lips, I hear the scrape of someone adding mortar to the wall, followed by the sound of a brick being set in place.
Who is building my wall?
I turn and look. I see myself, dressed in my white tunic and brown trousers, adding bricks to the wall. Confused, I look down to see myself in full dress mail and cape, my sword at my side.
"Arthur..."
I turn and look back at Guinevere. She slowly shakes her head.
"Arthur..."
The voice is coming from the other side of the wall. I see a boulder nearby and climb up, looking over the barrier.
Behind it is my Guinevere, clothed in her simpler lavender dress, theone she wore before she was queen, looking distraught and slightly disheveled, her cheeks streaked with tears. She calls my name again, wringing her hands, and I am struck with the memory of her in the same dress, looking similarly distraught, begging my forgiveness over three years ago.
It breaks my heart to see her like this. I look around and see no opening in the wall. It extends for miles to the right and miles to the left. Troubled, I leap down from my perch and stride over to my other self. I place my hand on his shoulder and he stops building, turning to face me. A large mallet appears in my hand and I offer it. My other self shakes his head, indicating he won't take it.
"Arthur… please…"
Her voice is weaker, and I rush back to the boulder and peer over at her. She looks slightly different, now clothed in the light blue gown she was wearing when I proposed the second time, but her upturned face is still full of anguish. I can see her lips forming the word "please", but I can barely hear her.
She is fading from sight.
Growing frantic, I turn to face my queen and, to my horror, she is not there.
Where is she?
A sudden chill creeps down my back. I scramble onto the boulder again and look over the wall. Both Guineveres are standing there. Both are distraught.
Queen Guinevere is fading. Guinevere is becoming fainter as well.
I leap off the boulder and run to my other self, myself as a man, not a king, and yell at him to help me. He stands there silently, unmoving as stone.
My heart drops to my stomach and my knees start to buckle. Desperate, I thrust the mallet into his hand.
I feel a weight in my hand and look down. The mallet is in my own hand, and I am now wearing my white tunic and brown trousers.
"Arthur…" It is but a whisper.
My heart pounding, I rear back to strike the wall, then bring the mallet forward. The wall doesn't break.
I regroup and try again.
Nothing.
I try once more, swinging with all my might. Small chips fall from a few of the bricks.
I drop my head, tears streaming from my eyes, breathing heavily, frustrated.
I don't hear any sounds from the other side of the wall. In a panic, I drop the mallet and scale the wall, peering over just in time to see Guinevere reach her hand up to me right before she completely fades and disappears.
"No..." I whisper, dropping my head against the bricks.
I cry out, wordlessly and full of anguish, as though my very soul is being ripped from my body. I drop gracelessly to the ground and begin shoving at the wall, running at it with my shoulder, pounding at it with my fists. I punch and push until my knuckles are bloody, screaming her name over and over, knowing in my gut she will come back if I can only break through.
"Guinevere! Guinev—"
"Arthur!"
Arthur blinks awake, thrashing about in the bed. He's completely drenched with sweat and tears and his heart is pounding. "Guinevere," he gasps, pulling her into his embrace, holding her so tightly she squeaks a small protest. He loosens his grasp just a little, clinging to her, kissing her wherever his lips can reach.
"Arthur, what is it?" Guinevere asks, worried and a little frightened. It's the middle of the night, still fully dark outside, but Arthur has startled her into wakefulness. She can feel his racing heartbeat and reaches up to gently wipe his face. She smoothes his damp hair from his forehead. "You were shouting my name. It was a nightmare, wasn't it?"
He nods. Eventually, his breathing and heartbeat return to normal. "I've had it several times. The same one," he quietly starts, relaxing his hold on her a little. "Since... since our wedding. It returns periodically, but... I've had it every night for the last three nights, including this one ."
"Arthur, I'm sorry," Guinevere says. It has been three nights since she had told him about her experiences during her banishment. "Have you been waking up like this and I haven't noticed?" she asks, troubled.
"No," he croaks. "This is the first time the dream has gone this far." He shudders and clings tightly to her once again, the image of his wife disappearing before his eyes returning to his consciousness.
"Do you remember?" she asks. "Will you tell me?"
He nods. "I want to light a candle first. I need to see you better," he says, reluctantly leaving her to light a thin wooden taper from the dying embers in the fireplace.
Guinevere scrambles out of bed after him and moves in the opposite direction, startling Arthur. "Where are you going?" he asks, panic starting to fill his heart.
"I'm getting you a fresh shirt; yours is soaked through," she gently says, holding the garment up for him to see.
"Oh..." Arthur sighs, relieved. He brings the lit taper to the bedside and touches it to a candle on the nightstand. Then, he extinguishes it and carefully sets it down.
He pulls his damp shirt off and sets it aside, then takes the dry shirt from Guinevere and pulls it over his head as he sits on the bed. He studies his wife for a long moment, drinking her in, grasping her hands to assure himself of her presence. "It always starts the same," he says. "I'm building a wall."
He goes on to describe his dream and she listens attentively, carefully, not interrupting with questions or comments, letting him talk it through.
"I couldn't break the wall... I couldn't get to you..." he finishes, fresh tears flowing. "I couldn't get to the... the simple version of you... the you with whom I fell in love... and the version that was queen appeared on the other side, too... and she disappeared... she disappeared first. I couldn't get to you... I couldn't save you... I felt so hopeless, so... desolate."
"Do you think this dream is trying to tell you something?" Guinevere asks, caressing his face, thumbing away his tears. She has a definite feeling there is a message in his dream. Why else would it return again and again?
Arthur nods. "It must, since it won't leave me alone," he says, echoing her thoughts. "I haven't been able to reason out why there were two versions of us," he muses. "Usually, the dream ends when I see you, the queen you, and walk towards you. Everything after that was new tonight. No, wait..." he furrows his brows, trying to organize his thoughts. "I saw you on the other side of the wall last night, but I don't remember anything past that. But, why couldn't I break the wall? And, why were you initially on my side of the wall as a queen but not as a woma... oh..." he trails off, blinking "Oh, no. No, no, no..."
"Arthur?"
"My God... have I really...?" His eyes widen, his mind reeling as he thinks back over the three years of their marriage, recalling various scenarios and times when he's pushed her aside without realizing it or turned his back on her, telling himself he was protecting her by keeping her in the dark. "I... I have... I haven't..."
"What is it, Arthur?" she asks, concerned.
He looks at her, his face full of horrified clarity. "I have been trusting you with my kingdom, but not with my heart," he simply says. Guinevere feels tears pricking at her eyes now, her hand over her mouth as she slowly nods. "That's what the dream means. That's why the queen you was on one side in the beginning of the dream and the woman you was on the other. That's why I had been building the wall."
Guinevere says nothing, speechless. Her heart is pounding and she feels an unpleasant wobble in her stomach. All those months... years of growing distance between us. I already knew this, but I... Her face crumples and she bites her lower lip, wiping her eyes and waiting for him to continue.
He tentatively reaches for her hand, his long fingers easily surrounding her small ones. "I'm so, so sorry, Guinevere. I thought I had forgiven you... well, I had forgiven you, but I wasn't letting myself fully trust that you... I mean, Lancelot is dead, but... oh, God!" His voice breaks as he finishes, mortified with himself. "What have I done?" he whispers, withdrawing his hand to place both over his face, devastated.
Guinevere squeezes her eyes shut, trying to withstand the stab to her heart. "So, the only reason you believed we could go forth and marry is because Lancelot was dead? In your mind, it would all be fine because he was no longer an issue?"
Arthur starts to reply, but as the questions his wife poses sink into his heart, he realizes the truth. And, it silences him. Guinevere opens her eyes, looks down at her wedding ring, and whispers to herself, "You and I never had a chance then…" Suddenly, the hurt washes over Guinevere in a wave, and she looks up at him, her eyes brimming with tears. "Why did you propose again, Arthur? If you couldn't let yourself trust me... why?" she asks, wounded and confused.
"I... I just loved you too much..." he answers, his voice weak and hesitant. "I saw Isolde die and how it broke Tristan, and I knew... in that moment, I knew that... that I couldn't live without you. I was so miserable while you were gone... I could barely function. I needed you. I... couldn't picture an existence without you in it..."
"That doesn't sound like love, Arthur," Guinevere quietly answers. "It sounds like fear."
His eyes widen and he looks away. "I did lo— I mean, I do love you. I always have and I always will," he says, looking back at her. "You must believe me. You took my heart with you when you left," he insists.
"Love was never the issue," Guinevere says, looking down at her hands. "We have always loved each other. Yet, fear replaced it somehow..."
"Guinevere, I...I wanted you to stay. I asked you to marry me again. I was the one who forbade any talk of what occurred. Everything that has happened or didn't happen from then on is my responsibility. I never should have welcomed you back if I wasn't able to fully give myself to you in every way. It wasn't fair to you. To us."
Tears that were, up until this moment, held back now fall as Guinevere absorbs her husband's words.
"Arthur," she cautiously starts, reluctant to revisit this painful topic. "When I asked you a few days ago if everything we had before was truly gone, you said it wasn't."
Arthur hangs his head. "I thought it wasn't gone. I think I was wrong. But, only because I wouldn't allow it to come back. I didn't even realize I wasn't allowing it." He looks at Guinevere, at the tears in her eyes.
Silence reigns for several seconds as Guinevere ponders Arthur's words. It is as if we have both been locked in the dungeon. In separate cells. Far apart.
"I was so lonely, Arthur," Guinevere suddenly says, her voice soft but full of anguish. "I... I knew something wasn't right between us, but I could never put my finger on it until tonight."
His brow furrows. "Why did you never say anything?" he asks, but as soon as the words are out, he knows the answer.
"Because you would have either denied it or refused to discuss it, then changed the subject," she answers.
"You're right," Arthur sadly agrees after a pause. "Guinevere, I am so—" his next words are halted by his wife's soft hand touching his lips.
"Arthur, please. Stop. I need you to listen. Please." Arthur nods his head and focuses on her, determined to let her speak no matter how much he fears what she may say.
Guinevere takes a deep breath, wipes her eyes and continues. "I understand why you kept me away from your heart. You were reacting to what you believed to be true, that I betrayed you, and until recently had no evidence to the contrary. However, in the same way I have listened to and understood your reactions, Arthur, please grant me the same courtesy. I need you to listen. I need you to know how this has affected me."
Arthur nods and remains silent.
"In truth, I... I felt more like your wife and queen before we were married. Before the first enchantment. When you would... when you would steal kisses in hidden alcoves... when you would come to me for advice in abandoned corridors... or just to share your ideas, hopes, dreams, and fears... when you could just be yourself because you were with me," she says, closing her eyes, the sweet memories now slightly painful.
"I miss being myself with you." He whispers the admission, wondering what happened to that man, the man who was willing to cast aside his title and his kingdom because of his love for this amazing woman.
"And..." she hesitates, looking down.
"Please," he urges, "tell me."
She looks up at him. "You took me back despite the fact that I betrayed you – remember, I also thought I had done it – and... part of me felt that I should just be grateful to be your queen, even if sometimes I didn't really feel like I was truly your wife. So, I kept quiet about my worries... because I didn't feel I had the right. I didn't want to burden you with them."
"Oh, Guinevere... I thought you were satisfied with how things were..." He kisses her hand again and his heart breaks, stricken by how deeply his wife has been hurting all this time.
Guinevere's breath hitches into a sob and she starts crying in earnest, the floodgates now opened. "You... you said you trusted me with your kingdom... that you valued me as a... queen more than... a wife... but..." She gently pulls her hand from his to wipe her eyes with both, then covers her face with them. "But, I'm not... I don't feel like..." She drops her hands, frustrated. "I'm a failure as queen as well!" she finally says, almost shouting now in frustration and grief.
Arthur reflexively wraps his arms around her, and she sobs on his shoulder. "Why do you feel that way? You are a wonderful queen," he says, rubbing circles on her back. "The people love you, the nobles have not only accepted you as queen, but most of them like and respect you..."
"Baby..." she sobs. Hard.
Baby. It's a small word, but it tells Arthur everything he needs to know.
Arthur closes his eyes, the familiar pang hitting him. It's the same feeling he gets every time Guinevere tells him her monthly has arrived. Always exactly on time, with the new moon. "Guinevere, it's..."
She lifts her head, pulling away, and sinking into herself. "It's a queen's primary job, Arthur," she says, wiping her eyes again. "Do you think I don't hear what people whisper behind my back? Do you think I don't know what the Ladies of the Court are saying behind closed doors? Do you think I don't cry on each and every new moon when I bleed?" As she remembers the pain from the ongoing monthly disappointment and the loneliness of bearing it without comfort from her husband, she involuntarily shifts away from him and curls into herself.
"I don't know what to say," Arthur says, tentatively reaching out to tuck a stray lock of hair behind her ear before dropping his hand. "I'm so sor—"
"Please stop apologizing, Arthur," she interrupts, flinching as if a scab has been pulled off. Again. "I know you're sorry. And, you don't need to say anything. There's nothing you can say." Her voice breaks and she stops, her face crumpling as the tears continue unabated. When she resumes, her voice is hoarse and weak. "It's... it's my problem, but not being able to talk to you about it has been killing me!" Arthur is temporarily stunned as she curls even tighter, shielding herself from new and remembered pain.
He reaches out to her. Guinevere remains very still and tense as he pulls her to him. After a few moments of holding his wife, caressing her face, stroking away her pain, kissing her hair, and whispering sweet endearments, she begins to relax and sink into his arms. Arthur caresses her face and continues to soothe her. Guinevere slowly puts her arms around her husband, barely able to hold on, yet grateful for his support while her pent-up emotions slowly ebb.
"Guinevere, your problems are my problems as well. I had no idea you were so distraught about this," he says, and immediately realizes something. "Oh. I see."
"Yes," she agrees. "This is our marriage, our family, and everyone is talking about this except us. Ella told me that when you and Merlin took me to have my enchantment lifted, there were rumors going around that we were really going to see a witch about getting me with child."
"What?" Arthur asks. "That's preposterous!"
"It doesn't matter whether it's preposterous or not. It's what people think. It's what I hear when people think I'm not listening."
"What doesn't matter is what other people think," he says, scowling.
"Does it matter what I think, Arthur?" she gently inquires.
"Of course, it does, Love," he replies and tenderly touches her cheek.
Guinevere, bolstered by his response, searches for words that have been buried for far too long. "It is easy for you to dismiss what is said because you are not surrounded by it all the time, Arthur. You've had your whole life to learn how to ignore the whispers. I haven't had that luxury," Guinevere points out. "Besides, there's more to it than producing an heir for Camelot." She takes Arthur's hand and places it over her heart. "I want to have your baby, Arthur. For us. Because I'm your wife and I love you. I want to bring a little life into this world that's half you and half me and all wonderful."
"I want that, too," Arthur softly admits. "A little boy to train. A little girl to spoil." Images of an energetic little boy with dark curly hair and a wooden sword or a sweet little girl with Guinevere's eyes and a fistful of wildflowers dance through his mind, and his heart aches. He looks at his wife's beautiful, sad face and his heart aches further. "Truly, Guinevere, if you are not able to conceive a child, I would not love you any less. I wouldn't cast you aside or punish you, as some men might. You would still be my wife, my love, my... my world. I know you don't need to hear it again, but I need to say it. I'm sorry. I can't even say how much, because the words don't exist. Like I said before, I want you to be able to talk to me about anything and everything. Please. I promise I will listen. I promise my heart and mind will be open."
"I'd like that," she whispers, hopeful. He squeezes her hand. "There were so many times I wanted to talk to you, to let you see my tears... but you were so..."
"Unavailable," he mutters, feeling small. "I... I understand now, Guinevere. Honestly, I do. I've hurt you, and the fact that I didn't even realize I was doing it... just makes it worse. I feel so... ashamed."
Guinevere bows her head. "That's how I feel most of the time. Ashamed. For not being able to produce an heir. For betraying you. It made me feel like... like I didn't deserve your love or your time."
"No, Love, no... It is I who is at fault," Arthur emphatically says. "I've treated you so unfairly, Guinevere. I pushed you aside when I should have listened to you... like... like the time you challenged me about my motives for helping Mithian when Odin attacked Nemeth. You were correct, of course, and I denied it."
"I know," she softly agrees, nodding. "I knew even then that you were not being honest. With either of us."
He sadly nods, feeling guilty. "And the fire... if it weren't for my selfishness, my foolishness... thank goodness Merlin got to you... but you would have cautioned me against using that horn, so I kept it from you..."
"Arthur, what are you talking about?"
"When you were trapped in the kitchens with the fire. I caused that. Indirectly," he explains. He goes on to briefly tell her about the Horn of Cathbhadh and what he'd done.
Guinevere is shocked. She says nothing for a long minute, thinking over what he has just told her, her heart a jumble of emotions. "Thank you for telling me," she whispers. "I can't say it pleases me to hear this, but thank you."
"You almost died because of me. Again," Arthur says.
Guinevere nods because she doesn't know what to say. Her hurt and disappointment are mixing with the sympathy she feels for her husband, and her mind is a jumble. "I was coughing for two weeks after that," she whispers, frowning as the unpleasant memories of that ordeal and her recovery return.
"I know," he answers. "I know. I..." he pauses, struggling with his thoughts, "I have no excuse. I could say I felt vulnerable and alone, but that would just make it worse. I could say I was feeling insecure, but... not much better." He forlornly looks at her. "I was a fool. Plain and simple. I had to learn the hard way what everyone around me already knew about my father. I was a fool to not see his true colors before, and I was an even bigger fool for pushing you aside. And, I hurt you, physically and emotionally, in the process."
"What stings the most is that Merlin knew," she says, wiping her tears again. "You know I love Merlin, but you trusted him over me, and it hurts more than I can say."
"I understand that now, Guinevere," he replies, his voice breaking. "Please tell me you see this is what I'm trying to correct... by taking down the wall I was building in my dream..."
"I do see it, Arthur. It doesn't mean I'm not hurt and frustrated by what happened." Guinevere wipes away her tears again, and Arthur catches her hand, holding it to his cheek. Somewhere in the back of her mind, she wonders, Will I never stop crying? Will my heart never stop breaking?
"I'm so sorry. I should have told you. I should have told you immediately after, at the very latest."
"Yes, you should have," she says, frowning. "I don't know if I would have cautioned you against it. I've lost both my parents, too."
"Yes, Love, of course," he softly answers, kissing her hand. He takes a deep breath, inhaling slowly, then exhaling heavily. "Can you forgive me, Guinevere? I was so wrong. I shouldn't have kept anything from you. I... I have asked you to please tell me everything, and yet there I was, sneaking around behind your back like a common thief. Like... an adulterer." He looks away, ashamed. "I was unfaithful to you," he whispers. "Not by lying with other women, but by keeping part of my heart closed off when all of it belongs to you." He returns his gaze to her, looking deep into her soft brown eyes. "I promise you it will not happen again. Ever."
Guinevere says nothing, her face solemn as, once again, she ponders all that her husband has said and the irony of it.
"How do you feel? Can you tell me?" Arthur cautiously inquires.
Silence.
He tries again. "Are you angry?"
Guinevere does not answer right away, removes her hand from his, and continues to wipe away her tears. Arthur uses the sleeve of his tunic to help her.
"Will you please bring me a handkerchief? I need to blow my nose."
"Right. Of course." Arthur scrambles out of bed and runs to Guinevere's vanity. He spies a stack of handkerchiefs on the corner by the mirror and retrieves several, hurrying back to their bed, trying not to fidget as his wife cares for her nose. He watches her and is struck by an idea. Arthur walks over to the pitcher placed on the long table and pours a cup of water, bringing it to her.
Guinevere gratefully accepts the water with murmured thanks, drinks deeply, then hands the cup to Arthur who places it on the nightstand. She wipes her eyes once or twice more, then sighs. After what seems like a very long time, she answers.
"Yes, Arthur. I am angry. Not so much at you, but at… I am not sure at what or who," she finishes helplessly. More silence. Arthur watches her, tears brimming in his eyes as he waits patiently and silently, hanging on her every word. Gathering her thoughts, she continues, "When I think of all the years we waited to be together, all the obstacles we had to overcome, only to be married… and after… the wasted time and opportunities… because of…" She takes a deep breath and Arthur waits again, inadvertently holding his breath. Several seconds of quiet ensue, but Arthur will not break the silence lest he interrupt her chain of thought.
Both Arthur and Guinevere know, without a whisper of doubt, that what happens in the next few moments will determine the course of their lives. Forever.
Guinevere closes her eyes, then opens them to gaze into her husband's. She sees his concern for her and his pain, his regret. She knows those feelings all too well and how desperately hopeless they can make one feel. She shakes her head. "How can I be angry at you, Arthur? You have told me everything and taken responsibility for all of it. You had shown me great mercy and forgiveness when you and I had every reason to believe I betrayed you. How could I not extend the same love and grace to you?"
Arthur searches his wife's face for several seconds, assuring himself what he heard was actually spoken. Then, sighing in relief, he gathers Guinevere in his arms, squeezes her, and leans back to gently touch her forehead with his own. He blinks back tears. "Guinevere… I…" He swallows hard, unable to continue.
"I forgive you, Arthur," she whispers, realizing that no matter how much she is hurt by his actions, facing and owning up to them, realizing how much he has wounded her in the process is much more painful for him. She knows Arthur. She understands his mind and heart, and she knows that this is a breakthrough, not a setback.
"Thank you, Guinevere. My love," he answers, his voice hoarse. He leans forward and kisses her cheek, lingering a moment to rest his forehead against her temple, smelling her hair, breathing her in.
Guinevere wraps her arms around him again, holding him, running her fingers through his hair. "Can you... can you break down the wall you have built?" she carefully asks, hoping he understands what she's really asking.
"Yes," he immediately answers, lifting his head and looking into his wife's eyes. "Yes. If that dream comes back, I will be able to knock that wall down with my little finger." He holds up the aforementioned finger. "But, it won't even take that much. I'll be able to make the wall tumble with little more than a breath."
Guinevere looks at Arthur, at the anguish in her beloved's face. Any hurt she feels at his confession fades when she sees the pain in his eyes. She can see his love – and trust – for her shining through behind the pain, and only wants to help him, to take his hand and guide him back to himself just as he has done for her. Because that's what you do when you love someone.
"Thank you, Arthur," she whispers, granting him a soft kiss on the lips. She feels his breath catch as her lips make contact with his. "I believe you, Love. I can see that wall coming down even now," she adds, smiling softly as she caresses his cheek.
Arthur sinks against her, relief flooding through him and through Guinevere as well. She catches and holds him, supporting his body with her own. She can feel the wetness of his tears on her neck and shoulder, the soft press of his lips against her skin.
After a few moments, he lifts his head and kisses her. "I want things to be the way they were." He pauses. "No. I want things to be better. This is completely my doing, Guinevere, and I intend to correct it. As rulers, we are powerful, an effective team, a force with which to be reckoned. We should be the same as husband and wife. Even more so. United. Balancing one another. Your strengths should balance my weaknesses as my wife as well as my queen, just as my strengths should balance your weaknesses as your husband, not just as king."
"Yes, Arthur. I want that, too," she agrees.
"I realize what the dream means, about what it was warning me. I was protecting myself, protecting my heart. In doing so, I have utterly neglected yours. I was wrong. So wrong." He kisses her hand. "My dear and only Guinevere, I pledge that not only do I freely and fully give to you my heart, I pledge that if you will entrust it to me, I will continually seek, listen to, look after, and protect your heart to the end of my days." He pauses, searching the lovely brown depths of his beautiful wife's eyes. "Do you trust me, Guinevere? In spite of all the hurt I have caused?"
Guinevere smiles as happy tears threaten to spill, kisses her husband, and whispers, "I do."
xXx
"Tell me more about this horn, please," Guinevere says at length. She and Arthur have tucked themselves back into bed, the candle has burned down to nothing, and they're just lying together, holding one another.
"Do you want to know the long version?" he asks. "What I told you before was just the... the summary."
"Yes, I think so," she answers.
He tells her, giving every detail he remembers. Guinevere relates her experience back to him, even though she had told him when she woke up after Gaius had treated her. Arthur wanted to hear it all again, now that his heart and mind are fully open to his wife. Now that he can truly listen and take in what she has to say and what she has experienced.
"I do understand why you wanted to see him again," Guinevere says once he has finished. "But… I likely would have advised you to take some time and really think about your motives. To make certain you were summoning him for the right reasons."
"Yes, of course," Arthur says, suddenly realizing how much he's lost over the past three years by staying behind this wall he had constructed around his heart. Like my father did. He kept everyone at arms' length and look where it got him. "I don't know that I was doing it for the right reasons. I was… searching for his approval again, and he only said those horrible, hateful things about my rule and about you."
"To be honest, I am not terribly surprised at what he said about me. Rather ungrateful of him, though, considering I nursed him for over a year despite all he had done to me and my family." Her words are bold and uncharacteristic, but they needed saying, and now she's not afraid to say them.
Arthur nods, caressing her shoulder. "He was… he was so wrong. So stubborn, so blind. I truly see that now. I was finally able to see the tyrant I wouldn't allow myself to recognize while he was alive." He reaches up and caresses her cheek. "When I sent him back… I told him… I told him it wasn't his kingdom any more. I told him it was my turn now."
"I'm glad," Guinevere says, pleased to know that Arthur had finally stood up to Uther, even if it was his ghost. She is glad to see her husband free to be himself, free to confidently listen to his heart and trust his instincts. He takes her hand in his and holds it on his chest, over that same, wonderful heart. She smiles, sighs, then quietly asks, "Where is the horn now?"
"Somewhere in the vaults. I had Merlin hide it down there and made him promise not to tell me where he put it," Arthur says, sitting back. "So I wouldn't be tempted."
Guinevere nods. "Good. Merlin should be allowed back down there. Eventually."
"Hmm?"
"I'm sure there are magical items down there. Things of which he may have use one day."
"Yes... yes, I suppose so," Arthur acknowledges. "I don't want to talk about Merlin right now," he adds.
Guinevere smiles and leans up to kiss his neck. He squeezes her in return, his hand sliding down from her shoulder to rest on her hip. "Arthur?"
"Yes?"
"Now that I've had some time to think, it's probably a good thing we haven't had a child yet. I mean, considering how we were... or weren't..."
"Yes, I agree," he says. "It would have complicated our problems, and the child likely would have been caught in the middle." He bends his head and kisses his beloved's forehead. "Perhaps fate is kinder than we realize."
Guinevere cuddles closer, hooking her leg over his. "Perhaps, my love."
xXx
"Arthur... Arthur!" Merlin gingerly pokes Arthur's shoulder, trying to wake him without disturbing Guinevere. When he entered the royal chambers, he was surprised to discover the queen hadn't yet risen. Typically, she's awake and out of bed before Merlin arrives, seated at her vanity or gazing out the window, usually with her dressing gown on over her nightdress. Before Ella became her handmaiden, she would often be dressed.
But, this morning, she's curled on her side, blankets up to her ear, with Arthur spooned behind her.
"Go away," Arthur quietly grumbles, turning slightly towards his servant. Merlin jumps back and turns away. Arthur's movement has revealed a portion of Guinevere's shoulder and back . Guinevere's bare shoulder and back.
"You have training this morning," Merlin says, his back to Arthur. This hasn't happened since just after they were married. Usually, they're much more discreet. Gwen is generally very mindful of propriety, he puzzles.
"Leon can run it," Arthur answers. Merlin can hear him setting back into bed, clearly having no intention of rising.
"But..."
"Merlin," Arthur interrupts, turning towards Merlin again, "we were up most of the night—"
"Yes, I—" Merlin stammers, his ears turning bright red.
"Talking," the king emphasizes. "Well, mostly. Regardless, we both need sleep, and sleep we shall have."
"Arthur..." Guinevere mumbles, stirring, "what...?"
"Shh, Love, go back to sleep," Arthur softly says, snuggling against her and kissing her hair.
Merlin sighs. "I'll inform Sir Leon," he says. "And I guess I'll just... handle things until..."
"We are not to be disturbed before noon," Arthur mutters drowsily.
"Yes, my lord," Merlin says. He pauses. "Oh, Mrs. Seward's delivery is being made. I saw the cart go out just moments ago," he informs. Arthur grunts a nearly-intelligible "thank you" in response, and Merlin heads back through the curtains and out the door, wondering what it was they were up most of the night discussing. Obviously, it was something important.
He sees Ella in the corridor, heading towards him, and he stops her. "They're not to be disturbed until noon," he tells her.
She nods, but looks confused. "Is everything all right?" she asks, still concerned about her mistress after her breakdown two days past.
"Yes, they're fine, nothing to worry about," Merlin smiles reassuringly, and heads towards the training grounds. Yes. Nothing to worry about at all. He's not sure how, but he knows whatever happened between the king and queen last night was something very good.
A/N: This was one of the most difficult chapters I've ever written, and I must give co-author credit to my amazing and wonderful (and humble, as she wishes to remain anonymous) beta!